Alle Kapitel von THE FAKE HEIRESS and Her OBSESSIVE BROTHER: Kapitel 31 – Kapitel 40

The servant's quarters were cold and cramped, nothing like the spacious bedroom Vivian had once occupied in the main house. She sat on the edge of the narrow cot, her uniform folded neatly beside her. The room was bare—a small wardrobe, a washbasin, and a single window overlooking the garden. It was exactly what she needed. Unremarkable. Forgettable. A place where no one would look twice. She had been back for three days now. Three days of waking before dawn, working until her hands ached, and avoiding the sharp eyes of the household staff. Three days of pretending she was someone else. Sarah Jenkins. A quiet, hardworking woman with no past and no future. A ghost in a house full of secrets. Vivian pulled on her uniform, tucked her hair beneath her cap, and studied herself in the small mirror. For a moment, she barely recognized the woman staring back at her. Good. That was the point. She opened the door and stepped into the corridor. Another day inside the enemy's home had begu

Vivian didn't sleep that night. She lay rigid on the narrow cot, staring at the closed door while the voice from the corridor replayed in her mind. Vivian. Not Sarah. Vivian. Someone knew her real name. Every creak of the mansion made her heart jump, but the shadow never returned.By dawn, exhaustion had settled behind her eyes. She dressed quickly and pushed the letters from the attic deeper beneath her mattress. She couldn't carry them with her. Not yet. If someone was watching her, she couldn't afford to make another mistake.---The morning passed in a blur. Vivian scrubbed floors, carried linens, and helped in the kitchen while pretending everything was normal. But the voice from the previous night refused to leave her mind.By midday, she slipped away from the kitchen. She had barely reached the east-wing staircase when she heard footsteps behind her. She stopped. The footsteps stopped too. Slowly, Vivian turned.A tall, thin woman stood several feet away. She wore a servant's u

The wardrobe door swung open, flooding Vivian with blinding light.She pressed herself against the back wall, her heart pounding so loudly she was certain Richard could hear it. But he didn't reach for her. Instead, he simply stood there, his cold eyes scanning the narrow space.Then something strange happened. His gaze stopped directly on her face. For one breathless moment, their eyes met. Vivian's blood turned to ice. He had seen her. He knew she was there.But instead of reaching for her, Richard's eyes flickered away. He looked at the dresses hanging beside her as though she didn't exist. "Empty," he said calmly. "Search the rest of the room."He turned and walked away. Vivian remained frozen, her mind racing. He had seen her. She was certain of it. Yet he had chosen not to find her. She didn't understand. He had looked directly at her. He had known she was there. Why had he let her go?The footsteps faded. The door closed. Silence returned. Vivian waited until she was certain th

The key sat on the cot beside Vivian, its metal surface catching the pale morning light.She had spent the night staring at it, tracing the small emblem carved into the handle with her fingertip. It was the same symbol that appeared on Emilia's locket, the same symbol that had been on the letters. Whatever this key opened, it was connected to Emilia. Connected to Lily. Connected to her.But the mansion was vast, filled with locked doors and hidden rooms. Without knowing where to look, the key was useless. She needed answers. And the only place she could find them was the west wing.Vivian rose, dressed quickly, and tucked the key into her pocket. Today, she would search for the lock that matched it.---The west wing was quiet when Vivian slipped through the entrance.She moved carefully, keeping to the shadows. The shrine had revealed new questions, but it had also given her a direction. Emilia's mother had left the key for a reason. She had wanted Vivian to find something.Vivian se

Vivian sat on Emilia's bed, the wooden chest resting in her lap.She had found it in the hidden compartment behind the painting, tucked beneath the letters and photographs she had already examined. The chest was small, its surface carved with delicate flowers. It had been carefully preserved.She lifted the lid.Inside was a baby blanket.It was soft and white, embroidered with tiny blue flowers along the edges. The fabric was thin from years of washing, but it had been folded with care. Someone had kept it safe.Vivian lifted the blanket from the chest. The moment her fingers touched the fabric, something stirred inside her.A memory.Not clear. Not complete. But something.A woman's voice, soft and warm. Arms holding her close. A lullaby sung in the darkness.Vivian closed her eyes. The memory faded as quickly as it had come, leaving only a faint ache in her chest.She looked down at the blanket. On one corner, a name had been embroidered in delicate thread.Lily.Vivian's breath ca