The Stand-In for Love

Ive had severe separation anxiety since childhood. Ten minutes out of sight, and Id scream like a beagle, throwing the house into chaos. So, the moment my adoptive parents realized I was the Kensingtons' biological heiress, they packed me off to the billionaire estate overnight.

But the Kensingtons didn't welcome me. Mother wired five million from Wall Street with a text: "Be good. Don't come looking for me until it's gone." Father signed over a sprawling estate via his London office. Barbara, the fake heiress running the company, was ice-cold: "I have no love to give, but take all the cash you want."

For six months, I hadn't seen a single one of them. Desperate for affection, not money, I posted a photo of my walk-in vault and nine-figure bank account online. The comments exploded with accusations of humblebragging and curses against the Kensington empire.

As I drafted a petty reply, the butler burst in, panting frantically. "Miss Piper, it's terrible! The family is bankrupt!"

Just ten minutes ago, I was a billionaire heiress. Now, we were completely broke.

The news came so suddenly. I had been sitting there debating whether to order Australian lobster or king crab for dinner when the butler kicked my door open like a runaway dog.

"Awoo!"

He let out a wail that sounded even more like a distressed beagle than my own anxious cries. "Miss Piper! It is an absolute disaster! The Kensington family has gone completely under!"

The menu slipped from my fingers and hit the floor. No lobster. No king crab. Everything was gone.

"What did you just say?" I stared at him, unable to process the words.

"We are officially bankrupt! Your mother's IPO in New York crashed spectacularly. Your father's mergers in London collapsed. The company stock plummeted to zero in fifteen minutes. We are three billion dollars in debt! Three billion, Miss Piper!"

The butler dropped to his knees, tears and snot streaming down his face.

I sank back into the sofa, my head spinning. "Then... how much money do I still have in my account?"

Sobbing, the butler held up a single finger.

"A hundred million?"

"One... one hundred dollars. All of your credit cards and trust funds have been frozen!"

One hundred dollars.

Overnight, I had gone from a girl with a nine-figure net worth to a broke nobody with barely enough cash to buy a cheap dinner.

They say it is easy to go from rags to riches, but nearly impossible to go from riches back to rags.

Just six months ago, I was a simple girl living in a small suburb. I had been diagnosed with separation anxiety at an early age. If I didn't see someone close to me for ten minutes, my throat would automatically switch into full beagle mode.

When my adoptive parents found out I wasn't their biological child, they celebrated as if they had won the lottery.

My adoptive mother wept as she crammed clothes into my suitcase. "Piper, your real parents are the Kensingtons! Do you know how rich they are? They're worth billions!"

"Once you go back, they'll treat you like a princess and put you on a pedestal!"

My adoptive father was even more impatient. He practically shoved me into the sleek Rolls-Royce waiting at the end of our street. "Go, go, go! Don't keep them waiting!"

Before I could even give them a proper, emotional goodbye, the car door slammed shut.

I let out an agonizing, heartbroken wail. The drive took over three hours, and I howled for the entire duration of the trip. By the time the car pulled into the massive Kensington estate, my voice was completely hoarse.

The moment I stepped out of the vehicle, I threw myself toward the woman standing at the front of the receiving line. "Mom!"

The woman awkwardly pushed me back, bowing deeply. "Miss Piper, I am Martha, your new head housekeeper."

I froze, my gaze shifting past her.

A security guard behind her was holding up a large LED light board. Neon letters scrolled across the screen: Welcome home, Piper. Love, Mom. I am currently in New York taking the company public. Call me if it's an emergency.

The butler gently took my luggage and handed me three different phones, each showing an active video call.

On the first screen, my biological mother was huddled with a group of executives preparing for the final Wall Street presentation.

On the second screen, my father was in a sharp three-piece suit, rapidly signing cross-border acquisition papers.

On the third screen, a young woman wearing a sleek gaming headset sat in a glowing neon chair, silently monitoring the stock market.

The butler kept piling things into my hands.

"This is an unlimited black card from your mother."

"This is a stock transfer agreement from your father, granting you three percent of the company's shares."

"And this is from Miss Barbara." He handed me a delicate pink envelope.

My eyes lit up. Finally, a personal note from my sister!

I tore the envelope open, expecting words of sisterly warmth, but there was only a single typed line: I have no love to give you, but you can have as much cash as you want. Barbara.

My lips trembled, and my chest tightened. I flipped the paper over, desperately searching for some hidden message of affection. Instead, there was only a printed QR code with a caption: Scan for a welcome gift of five million dollars.

Surrounded by a mountain of wealth I could never hope to spend in a lifetime, I let out my very first howl in the Kensington mansion.

The butler nearly jumped out of his skin. "Miss Piper! What is wrong?"

"I just wanted a hug!" I wailed, tears pouring down my face. "Is a simple hug that hard? Awoo! Awoo!"

The butler backed away three steps and frantically typed a message on his phone.

Five minutes later, an armored security vehicle drove onto the estate. Several guards unloaded two massive, heavy vaults and set them directly in front of me.

The butler's voice echoed hollowly from behind the steel boxes. "Miss Piper, your mother said if you want a hug, you can wrap your arms around these. There is fifty million dollars in cash inside."

"Awoo! Awoo!"

I hugged the freezing, heavy steel safe, sobbing until I hiccuped in the middle of the empty, echoing mansion.

And now, my current reality had collided with those memories.

"Where are my parents?" I asked quietly.

"Your parents are on a flight back home. The moment they land, they will be taken in for questioning. Miss Barbara was detained earlier, but she was just released on bail. She is on her way back here now."

I blinked, murmuring to myself, "How did this happen?"

Ever since I moved into this mansion, I had barely seen a living member of the family. The butler would print out my mother's itinerary every morning: New York on Monday, Singapore on Tuesday, Dubai on Wednesday. Her schedule was tighter than a head of state's. My father was perpetually locked in boardrooms, either signing contracts or flying to sign them.

And Barbara, the acting CEO, was constantly surrounded by an entourage of executives, commanding a presence far greater than mine.

Now, suddenly, everything was ruined?

Standing in the center of my enormous bedroom, I felt my separation anxiety flaring up again. I let out a cry that drowned out the butler's sniffling.

"Awoo! I want my mom! I want my dad!"

"I want Barbara!"

But this time, no matter how hard I cried, nobody came to comfort me.

The news of our bankruptcy spread like wildfire. The first wave of visitors were the bank representatives. Accompanied by local marshals, they politely but firmly served foreclosure notices on all of our properties, exempting only the primary mansion for the time being.

I watched silently as they marched in and out, carrying away the expensive decor.

When the house began to look empty, I let out another howl. The workers, clearly warned beforehand, simply put on noise-canceling earplugs and continued moving the boxes.

The second wave of visitors were the suppliers.

They were far less polite. They swept through the rooms like locusts, grabbing everything in sight, including the brand-new smartphone sitting on the coffee table. I didn't dare speak up. I knew what it felt like to have no one standing behind me.

I had been back with this family for six months. One hundred and eighty days.

I had never sat down for a single meal with my biological parents. I had only seen Barbara a handful of times, catching brief glimpses of her through the bulletproof glass of her luxury car as it sped past me. That was the closest we had ever been.

After the crowds cleared, I sat in the quiet house and cried.

My adoptive parents had promised me that my real mother and father would shower me with love. So why did they never show up?

For the past half-year, the only maternal affection I received came in the form of bank transaction alerts. Paternal love arrived as stock certificates. Barbara, attempting to fit the pattern, would periodically send QR codes worth five million dollars.

I had called my adoptive parents for advice. They told me I needed to be more proactive.

But every time I called my real mother, her secretary would answer in a cold, professional tone, saying she was in a meeting. My father's calls went through occasionally, but he would hang up after a few hurried words. I didn't even have Barbara's number.

My separation anxiety had worsened over the months. I went from howling three times a day until my throat was raw, to howling once a day, to eventually going days in complete silence.

The butler would report my behavior to the secretary, who would tell the assistant, who would relay it over a radio. But no one ever answered. My cries were like stones dropped into a deep ocean, sinking without a single ripple.

Just as a group of creditors started moving toward my bedroom, the butler stepped in front of them. He shielded me like a protective guardian.

"This room contains Miss Piper's personal belongings! We have notarized proof! You cannot touch anything in here!"

The creditors looked at each other, grumbled, and turned back to the hallway.

Eventually, even the main furniture was gone. The grand living room was entirely empty except for a small, cheap dog-shaped sofa I had purchased with my own allowance. The receipt had my name on it, so they couldn't take it.

I curled up on the small sofa, clutching the dusty LED sign the butler had used on my first day.

I turned it on, watching the words roll across the dark screen: Welcome home, Piper. Love, Mom.

As the news of the bankruptcy solidified, the household staff began to leave. Martha left first, packing up her entire quarters before the sun had even set. Then went the chefs, the cleaners, the drivers, and the staff whose only job was to bring me water.

The butler stood quietly by my side, watching the last of them depart.

Seeing me open my eyes, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a thick envelope. "Miss Piper, I must leave as well."

"This bankruptcy is complicated. You must take care of yourself."

"There is two thousand dollars in here. Use it for emergencies."

I shook my head, refusing to take it, but he forced it into my hands anyway. Then he stepped back and bowed deeply.

"Miss Piper, I know you are dealing with an illness, but please try to howl less. It is not good for your throat."

With that, he walked out the heavy front doors.

Looking out at the vast, silent estate, I let out a long, trembling cry. "Awoo! Awoo!"

I don't know how long I sat there crying before the front doors creaked open again.

I stopped howling and looked up.

It wasn't my parents, and it wasn't Barbara.

It was Richard Bradley, the eldest son of the Bradley family. I had seen him once before when he came to beg my father for a business favor. Barbara had dismissed him with a few sharp words.

I had passed him in the hallway that day, and he had stared at me with a sleazy, lingering grin. "So this is the real Kensington heiress? You're definitely softer than that bitch Barbara."

"Hey, sweetheart, why don't you come with me instead?"

Before I could even react, Barbara had shoved him toward the door. "You think you're good enough for my sister? Get the hell out of here!"

She had turned to me, looking thoroughly annoyed. "That guy has already ruined the lives of three women. If you don't want to be the fourth, stay far away from him."

I had nodded quickly, feeling a sudden warmth toward my sister.

And now, here he was again, clearly up to no good.

"Piper, I'm a reasonable guy," Richard said, tossing a prenuptial agreement onto the floor in front of me. "If you marry me, I promise your family's debts won't touch you."

"But you have to sign this. And you'll need to give me at least three sons."

I wanted to howl, but I forced myself to hold it in. I was a Kensington, and I refused to show weakness in front of someone like him.

But before I could speak, a heavy ceramic vase flew through the air, shattering right against the side of his head.

"Richard Bradley! You vulture! Get the hell out of my house!"

My eyes widened. It was Barbara.

She stood in the doorway, her hair messy and her clothes wrinkled. She wasn't wearing any makeup, and her lips were dry. She looked nothing like the polished, elegant executive she used to be.

Richard tried to step toward me, but Barbara grabbed a broom from the corner and started swinging, driving him back toward the door like a stray dog.

Though, looking at ourselves, we were the ones who looked like stray dogs now.

The thought made my eyes well up again. "Barbara! What took you so long?"

"I was so scared!"

Barbara rolled her eyes, pulled a pair of earplugs from her pocket, put them in, and sat down on the floor to tap furiously on a calculator.

After a long silence, she let out a heavy sigh. "It's not nearly enough."

She looked at me, still sniffling on the sofa, and said sharply, "Stop crying. None of this is your fault anyway."

"The company's finances were targeted. Several major competitors conspired to short our stock, and they set up those offshore shell companies to trap our parents."

"Mom and Dad wanted to come home to see you this month, but they couldn't. You have to understand, they aren't just responsible for us. They have thousands of employees depending on them."

I understood that our parents were busy. "But what about you? Why did you always avoid me?"

Barbara looked at me, her eyes slowly turning red. "Because I was jealous of you."

"You are the biological daughter, and I'm just the fake. Once you came back, I knew I would have to leave eventually. I worked myself to the bone just to prove to our parents that I was useful, that I could help the company, and that I could protect you. I didn't want to risk losing them."

She let out a long breath. "But don't worry. I won't let you carry this weight alone."

Barbara began making calls, trying to secure loans. We only needed enough to pay our parents' bail so they could be released to help stabilize the company.

But call after call was met with cold rejections or outright insults.

I watched as her shoulders sank lower and lower with every rejection.

Finally, I stood up and pulled her toward the basement stairs.

"Where are we going?" she asked, her voice tired.

Without a word, I lifted a hidden trapdoor in the corner of the cellar floor and pointed downward.

Deep inside the hidden space, a massive pile of solid gold bars gleamed softly in the dark.

"Barbara," I said quietly, "I have a lot of money now."

"Can you give me a lot of love instead?"