My Rival Heiress Went Feral to Save Me

The day Chloe Jackson came back, she wore a faded cotton dress and stood in the middle of the living room, wringing her fingers.

Before my dad could even speak, her eyes welled up with tears.

After a tear-jerking reunion, she grabbed my hand affectionately.

“You must be my sister. Please help me fit in.”

I was about to reply when she suddenly stumbled back, clutching her arm.

“Why did you pinch me?”

She pulled up her sleeve, showing two bright red marks on her arm.

Tears rolled down her cheeks, one by one.

“I know it’s hard to accept me, but I really see you as my sister. If you hate me, just say it. Why do this to me?”

My parents’ expressions changed instantly. They glared at me with sharp disapproval.

From an angle no one else could see, Chloe flashed me a cold smirk.

I gritted my teeth. Fine. Let’s see who plays this game better.

For the first month, we tore into each other every single day.

She replaced all the designer serums in my skincare setup with tap water.

I retaliated by mixing industrial-strength glue into her shampoo.

The next morning, she showed up at breakfast with hair standing straight up like a hedgehog. My dad almost choked on his coffee.

At a family dinner, she put on a tragic act in front of our extended relatives.

“Even though I’m the biological daughter, and she lived my luxurious life for twenty years, she still bullies me now that I’m back. But I don’t blame her…”

I smirked and exposed her embarrassing past right there.

“Chloe worked on a farm back in the country. She got into a fight with a pig once and lost. She cried for hours.”

Her sweet, innocent facade almost cracked right then and there.

I didn't stop.

“She used to scoop manure with her bare hands and ate lunch without washing up.”

My parents ended up with splitting headaches, forcing us into two-hour family talks every day to preach about sisterly harmony.

Chloe and I held hands, calling each other sweet nicknames and promising to behave.

The second my parents turned their backs, we dropped hands, stepped three feet apart, and rolled our eyes in sync.

Yet things got strange.

When I was burning up with a high fever late one night, I woke up to find medicine on my nightstand.

The glass of water beside it was still warm.

And when she was doubled over in pain from bad cramps, I called her pathetic, but instinctively stepped in to block the drinks people pushed on her at dinner.

Neither of us ever brought those moments up. We just went back to plotting against each other every chance we got.

The day before my birthday party, I was trying on gowns in front of the full-length mirror.

Chloe leaned against the doorframe with her arms crossed, watching me for a long time.

Suddenly, she snorted.

“Stop trying. Everything looks ugly on you. Your taste in clothes is just as trashy as your taste in men.”

I glared at her through the mirror.

“Mind your own business!”

Then I squinted, suddenly suspicious.

“Why bring up my boyfriend? Are you planning to steal him from me? Let me warn you, Julian and I are deeply in love…”

She rolled her eyes, turned around, and walked off.

“You’re out of your mind.”