The True Heiress Has Multiple Identities

"Nora, you are not a Flynn. Your real parents live in the old district."

"We raised you for twenty years. We are not asking for gratitude. We just want you to step aside for Leila. Can you agree to that?"

Even now, three months later, Kevin and Mary's words still rang in her ears.

The chill in their faces had made it clear: they could not wait to push Nora Thorne out.

And yet, at Nora's so-called farewell party, her adoptive father, Kevin Flynn, pressed a four-leaf clover necklace into her hand. "Nora, I picked this for you. Wear it. It will keep you safe."

He tried to sound sad, but the effort showed.

Nora stood there like a flower forced to bloom in winter, eyes lowered, expression unreadable. She had no interest in trading in the Flynn family's staged tenderness. She accepted the necklace with pale fingers and asked flatly, "Am I free to go now?"

Kevin's expression tightened. Keeping up the devoted-father routine was getting difficult. "Your birth family is not here yet. Wait a little longer."

"I will check the gate."

Nora was dressed simply in black and gray, her skin strikingly fair.

Too fair, almost unreal, as if warmth had been drained out of her.

Kevin swallowed his temper and watched her walk away, fists clenched.

"See? I told you. That girl is feral. Nothing like our own child," Mary Johnson hissed, stepping in close. "Slum trash, through and through."

Kevin lifted his wineglass and swirled it, a cold glint behind his lenses. "With that attitude, she will learn what life is like when she goes back."

Three months ago, Kevin's sister, Evelyn Flynn, fell seriously ill and was moved to intensive care.

Nora had volunteered for testing and a marrow match, determined to donate if she could.

No one expected that single act of devotion would expose the truth: that Nora was not the Flynns' biological daughter.

Kevin and Mary pulled every string they could and spent whatever it took to find their missing child.

It went almost too smoothly. Within two months, an unknown number called the Flynn household. The caller said they were Nora's birth family and arranged for someone to pick her up today.

Twenty years ago, when Mary gave birth at the hospital, everything had been chaos.

She could not stop thinking about it: one mistake, one act of negligence, and their real daughter had grown up somewhere else, while they poured their time and money into raising Nora. The thought made her burn.

But for the sake of appearances, the Flynn parents kept their resentment behind closed doors.

Hearing them, Leila Flynn, the true focus of the evening, stood in a pearl-toned gown and asked with practiced innocence, "Mom, Dad... are they really her family? What if they are scammers? I heard the old district is dangerous. Trafficking, scams, the whole mess..."

"Who cares what happens to her?" Mary snapped. "Good riddance."

Satisfaction flickered across Leila's face before she smoothed it away. She kept her voice soft. "I should still see Nora off."

After all, she was the Flynn family's daughter: sweet, sensible, born to belong. She had to look gracious.

Nora stood by the courtyard entrance, the lights and laughter behind her seeming to come from another world.

The maid, Willow, dropped Nora's travel bag onto the ground. Papers slid out and fanned across the stone.

Nora glanced over, her clear, cold eyes taking everything in.

"Oops, sorry, Nora. I am so clumsy," Willow said, making no move to help. "Your junk fell out."

Ever since the Flynns had found Leila, the staff had been quick to pick a new favorite, and Nora had been paying for it.

A faint sting tightened Nora's chest. Those pages were proof of years of work.

"You care that much about scrap paper?" Leila's voice cut in as she arrived. She traded a look with Willow, then looked down at Nora from above. "Planning to sell it for dinner when you get back?"

Nora could not be bothered to argue. She crouched to gather the papers. For a brief moment, the top sheet showed a title: "Brain Implant Research Report."

After twenty years of comfort, her hands were smooth and fine-boned. A diamond bracelet caught the light at her wrist. That alone was enough to spark envy.

Leila recognized it at once. It was a Flynn heirloom.

"Where did you get that?" Jealousy sharpened her voice. "Was that not supposed to go to whoever married into the Smith family? You are not even a Flynn, and James is not marrying you. Why are you wearing it?"

Nora rose, slid the documents back into her bag, and zipped it closed with unhurried care. Then she turned, gaze level and cold. "If you want it, just say so. No need to work yourself up."

As if cutting through Leila's little performance, Nora slipped the bracelet off.

Leila nearly erupted. Seeing Nora actually offering it, she lifted her chin and sneered, "I am warning you not to reach for what is not yours. Do not get ideas, you cheap little thing."

"Who is cheap? And who gets to decide?" Nora pinched the bracelet between her two fingers, a hard edge in her eyes.

Leila reached for it. "Does anyone need to decide? I heard your birth family has three sons besides you. Poor people breed like rabbits, right? Just mouths to feed. Probably digging through trash for leftovers."

But before her fingers could close around it, Nora released the bracelet.

It hit the ground at Leila's feet.