The Maid Was the Don's Real Daughter

"What are you doing, sneaking around?"

Jackie Santos suddenly spoke from behind me. I jumped in fright, breaking the plate in my hand on the ground.

The Donna, Marie Delgado, rushed into the room and pushed me to the ground.

"Ah!" I was unprepared and fell onto the broken shards. The shards pierced my skin, and I started bleeding profusely, but Marie ignored my wounds as she strode over to hold Jackie in her arms, nervously checking every part of her body.

"Are you hurt anywhere, Jackie?"

"I'm fine, Momma."

Marie glared at me angrily after making sure that Jackie was fine. She was furious. "How can you be so clumsy? You can't even hold a plate properly! Lucky for you, Jackie is fine, or I'll make sure you pay for it!"

The lighting shone right over her head, which blurred her face from where I was. The only thing I could see were her eyes, which were bright but filled with disgust for me. "I'm sorry. It slipped from my hands."

All I received in reply was a cold grunt, which made me feel hurt.

I forced myself up and crouched to pick up the shards, one by one, as blood continued dripping from the tips of my fingers, creating small bloody stains on the carpet that looked like little red flowers.

"When were you outside the door? What are you doing here so late at night?"

I looked in the direction of the voice and saw the Don, Frank Santos, standing at the door. He glanced at me, judgingly and full of doubt. My heart tightened in my chest.

Frank was probably worried that I overheard their conversation, so I lowered my head to hide my expression and replied in a low voice, "I've only just arrived, and I… I wanted to bring everyone supper."

I also wanted to tell them that I was about to die.

"That's enough! Clean up this mess and get out! All you do is give us trouble!" Frank turned away impatiently and muttered under his breath as he walked out.

Marie kept rushing me out. "What are you dilly-dallying about?"

She did not notice my unusually pale face and my bloodied limbs that were hurt by the broken shards.

Jackie hugged Marie's arm and said unhappily, "Momma, is Jenny mad at me for leaving her back up the mountain the last time? Is that why she dirtied the carpet I liked?"

Marie's expression changed, and she glared at me. "You were just a refugee when we found you, Jenny Santos. If we weren't kind enough to take you in, you'd have died of hunger by now! How dare you be upset with Jackie instead of being grateful for what we did for you!"

It had been 12 years.

Since I was six, they would always remind me, "You're just someone we took in from a refugee couple. You should be grateful to us.

"If it weren't for you, Jackie would have been our only daughter, and she would've enjoyed all our love. What you have now was supposed to be hers."

It made me feel like I was an intruder in their family, and a thief who stole their happiness. That was the reason why I accepted the arrangement of Frank and Marie to live my life like a lowly maid to serve Jackie and tolerate all of her bad temper. I owed Jackie everything.

However, I knew the truth now. I was never a thief. I was just a fool born to my parents to play around with.

"That wasn't my intention…"

"That's enough! You're blaming others as usual," Marie cut me off. "You were the one who dirtied the carpet, so you'll be the one to wash it clean. I want to see a spotless carpet tomorrow morning."

Marie instructed me coldly, and later took Jackie back to her room while showering her with concern.

It was a huge effort for me to lug the carpet back to my room to wash it. As I crouched in front of the tub of water, I felt an intense pain in my heart, which was suffocating me.

I was at the hospital this morning when the doctor sat in front of me with pity in his eyes.

"Your heart is failing, and you're in the late stage. You need heart transplant surgery as soon as possible, or you'll only be left with ten days to live. Fortunately, there is a match for you in the donor registry, but it would cost quite a lot. You should inform your parents about it right away."

I looked at him calmly and shook my head. "I don't have any parents."

What right do I have to ask them for more when I was just a daughter of refugees whom they took in? Moreover, they never liked me, so I gave up the surgery.

However, not long ago, I overheard a shocking truth. I was Frank and Marie's real daughter, and I was never meant to suffer in life, but I no longer wanted to argue with them.

The next morning, I dragged my weak body to the kitchen to make breakfast.

Jackie was in a high-couture dress, sitting at the dining table like a princess. Standing next to her, I looked like a scrawny servant holding the plates.

She used to pout when she was with Marie and said, "There should be a difference between your real daughter and adopted daughter, and it should be made clear to anyone who looks at us."

Since then, I was only allowed to wear the worn clothes of the maids at home.

"You don't look well, Jenny." Jackie was stirring her oatmeal while tilting her head to look at me innocently. "Were you worn out washing the carpet? You should stop working and sit next to me to have breakfast."

Jackie even pulled out a chair next to her for me, but Marie quickly stopped her.

"Your younger sister has a kind heart, Jenny, but you should be old enough to know your place. Just take a good look at yourself. You still stink of grease, and you shouldn't stain your sister with that stench. You can sit at the table after she's done with breakfast."

It hurt me to hear her words.

"I'm not hungry. I'll leave first." I lowered my eyes and turned to leave.

Frank put his papers down and frowned. "Stop right there. Your sister will be going shopping later. Go with her and help her with the bags. Stop being a loner. Just look at how many friends your sister has."

I looked back at him. My voice was trembling from the pain when I replied, "I have an appointment this afternoon at the hospital."

Marie burst out with a laugh. "The hospital? You don't look well, but it doesn't look serious enough for you to visit the hospital. All you did was spend the night washing the carpet. Don't make it look as if we abused you. From what I see, you're just lacking stamina."

I did not explain, and I walked out silently.

The sun was shining brightly, but no matter how warm it was, I still could not be warmed up. I stood at the side of the road to call the hospital's donation center. "Hello, I'd like to inquire whether I can donate my other organs if I'm suffering from late-stage heart failure."