The Real Heiress Knows How This Story Ends

“Mom, I didn’t do anything. Charlotte’s death had nothing to do with me!”

The security officers pinned down my arms and legs, leaving me unable to move.

My frail bones ached against the floor, and all I could do was force the words from my throat.

My biological mother stood across from me, looking at me as if I were her mortal enemy.

“Fiona, you little curse! You vile girl! I should never have brought you home. You belonged in that miserable town! This is all your fault. If it weren’t for you, how could my Char have died? You must have killed Char!”

Her eyes were bloodshot. She had clearly spent the entire night crying.

When Charlotte and I were born, the nanny switched us.

From then on, the nanny’s child became a wealthy heiress overnight, while I followed the nanny back to the countryside and grew up struggling to survive.

After Charlotte’s bizarre death, my mother insisted that I was the culprit, claiming I was jealous that Charlotte had enjoyed eighteen years of wealth and privilege in my place.

She reported me to the authorities.

To prove my innocence, I agreed to make my memories public.

Memory extraction was agonizing, as if someone were trying to scramble my brain with a knife.

I gripped the arms of the chair so tightly that my entire body trembled and blood seeped from my fingertips, yet I still forced myself to give my mother a twisted smile.

“Mom, I really didn’t do anything.”

People in the audience whispered:

“Isn’t memory extraction a form of torture, only used on death-row inmates? Can a young girl really endure it?”

“I heard the eldest Shaw heiress died, and the family suspects the country girl they recently brought home.”

“She agreed to have her memories shown to prove she was innocent. The poor thing!”

My mother was afraid public opinion would turn in my favor. She didn’t even have time to look at me before rushing to the edge of the stage and shouting,

“What’s there to pity about Fiona? She killed my daughter! My Char was such a wonderful girl.

“She always thought of Fiona whenever she had anything good and even wanted her father and me to give Fiona more attention. And this is how Fiona repays her?”

The camera on the large screen conveniently shifted away from me and focused on my father and brother as they walked onto the stage.

My father looked as if he had aged more than a decade overnight. His voice was filled with exhaustion.

“If I’d known the girl I was bringing home was an ungrateful snake, I never would have brought this murderer back just because Char pleaded for her.”

My brother furrowed his brows, his face filled with anger.

“If kindness only leads to death, I wish I had never taught Char to be kind.”

The three of them successfully swayed public opinion with their accusations. No one spoke up for me anymore, and the only thing left was a growing chorus of shouts:

“Make the criminal pay for what she’s done!”

The memory extraction was successful.

When she saw that the broadcast would begin with my memories from age five or six, my mother immediately said, “What does this have to do with Char’s death? Skip it. I don’t want to watch!”

The prosecutor said, “Forcing the system to skip memories could damage her brain.”

My mother didn’t hesitate for even a second. “Skip it, then. Char’s death is what matters.”

The prosecutor sighed as the memory timeline on the large screen began moving forward slowly.

The footage reached the first time I returned to the Shaw family estate.

Charlotte smiled and led me to the room she had personally decorated for me. When I stepped inside, I found the entire room drab and oppressive.