The Fake Heiress Dumps Her Best Friend For Money

“Fine, if you want to leave, then go.” Peter shot a sideways look at me as he let out a dramatic sigh.

“It’s just a pity that I bought that pearl necklace yesterday…”

The conversation was identical to the one in my previous life, yet in that life, I had lost control and shouted at him, “Do you think something so trivial can tempt me?! I’m telling you, I value my family more than anything!”

After that, I followed Vicky’s advice to the letter and walked away without the luxury car or the watch. I had insisted on looking proud and dignified.

During the countless nights afterward, when I stood outside the hospital and could not gather enough money for Dad’s medical treatment, I grew to regret it.

As I lay awake in a damp and cramped room in the urban village, I regretted it.

When an unreasonable customer drenched me with milk tea over a delivery fee of only a few dollars, I regretted it.

I had wished I could go back and slap that version of myself.

Life taught me that I should never say no to money. So under my family’s concerned gaze, I cried.

“Honestly, I can’t bear to leave all of you…

“If you all don’t want me to leave, then we will never bring this up again!”

I looked toward Lydia, the real daughter of the family, who sat quietly in the corner.

I gave her my warmest smile. “Lydia, welcome home!”

When I thought back on everything, Lydia had never done anything to hurt me.

All my hostility toward her had come from Vicky’s deliberate manipulation.

I held Lydia’s hand with sincere eyes, and I apologized openly.

There was no way around it, because I truly had taken more than twenty years of a wealthy life from her.

If she blamed me for it, it would have been understandable.

Yet Lydia wrapped her arms around me, and she smiled as she said, “Rachel, you don’t need to apologize. My foster parents treated me very well, and I’ve always been happy.”

I believed her. My biological parents were honest and kind, and the girl they raised would never be unpleasant.

We might even get along and become real sisters.

I was moved to tears until dinner.

My foster family stared in shock as I ignored my manners and devoured three full plates of seafood and steak that I had missed for so long.

After the meal, I felt energized again, and I rushed to give everyone a heads-up of where I was going before heading straight to my biological parents’ home.

I had been given another chance.

If my memory was correct, my biological father’s ailment had not yet reached the point of no return, and everything was still not set in stone.

I stepped inside with the determination to change my previous life’s ending, and I heard broken, uneven retching from the back room.

My chest tightened.

My biological father worked in sales and often drank with clients so much that his stomach bled, and that was what eventually turned into stomach cancer.