Where Can I Read 'Hiding My Noss Heirs'?

Bad news: I'm dead. Good news: I transmigrated into a novel. Bad news: I end up in a peasant woman's womb, and I'm about to be born as a fake heir. Good news: My little sister, claiming that it's better to be safe than sorry because the novel's main character shares my name, has forced me to read this novel cover to cover. I already know that once the real heir, Isaac Reed, comes home, he'll use our parents' guilt toward him to set me up. He'll frame me at a family acknowledgment banquet, making it look like I've taken liberties with the family's precious only daughter, Kiana Reed. My adoptive parents will be so furious that they'll disown me and kick me out of the house. In the end, I'll die miserably in an alley on a rainy night. So, the year I turn five, I empty out my savings to hire a young beggar to show up at our door, claiming he's the real heir. When I'm eight, the second beggar enters the stage. When I'm ten, the third one arrives. By the time I'm 15, the manor is packed with eight so-called real heirs. These people in ancient times don't know that their supposedly reliable methods of testing kinship can be tampered with. All they know is that all eight boys seem to share blood ties with my adoptive parents, the Marquis and Marchioness of Eterna. I play it off as a miracle from the heavens. Then, when I'm 16, the real heir returns.

I had been married for eight years when I inherited a fortune worth hundreds of millions that my grandfather left to me and my mafia boss husband. However, just as the lawyer was finalizing the transfer, we discovered my marriage certificate was fake. That meant the entire inheritance could only go to me. “Ms. Rivers, according to the system, you were divorced a year ago. Your husband, Zayn Levine, is legally married to… Whitney Sanders. According to the papers, you're single. In other words, Mr. Levine has no right to claim the inheritance.” Whitney, the woman Zayn had once loved before she went abroad, the one he never forgot. I stared at the lawyer’s message, unable to accept it. All of Zayn’s affection and tenderness over the years had been nothing but a lie. I had planned to tell him on our anniversary that after eight long years of marriage, I was pregnant. It was the miracle we had both been waiting for. Yet it seemed like he had never really been looking forward to it at all. As I gently rested my hand on my belly, I told myself that even if my twins grew up without a father, they would be just fine. In this place built on nothing but lies, the only thing left for me to do was run away.

At my 20th birthday banquet, I am to sign and receive the ten-billion-dollar inheritance left to me by my mother. My half-sister, Samantha Hatfield, and Howard Daley, her husband, who is also a secretary, eagerly urge me to sign the document. In my previous life, they trick me into signing the very same agreement, and the inheritance somehow becomes theirs. When I try to fight back, no one listens to me. Together, they have me confined to a sanatorium, where I spend the rest of my life drugged, imprisoned, and forgotten. But this time, their scheme is going to fail—I have returned with memories of what happens from the past life. Under their confident, expectant gazes, I pick up the pen. However, I do not pick it up to sign. I raise my hand and slash the pen's tip across Howard's face. As he lets out a terrified scream, I tear the agreement into pieces in front of all the guests and hurl the paper scraps at them. I say coldly, "My mother left all this to me. What makes you two heartless parasites think you're worthy of laying even one finger on it?"

After toiling in the underworld for three hundred years, I finally earned enough merit to be reincarnated. Then the King of Hell got drunk. Instead of sending me back as a human, he accidentally dropped me into the animal realm, where I was reborn as a plump orange cat belonging to the Sterlings, one of the wealthiest families in Evermont. Feeling guilty, the King of Hell compensated me with a hundred-year lifespan and one bizarre bonus: I could understand babies. Since I was stuck there anyway, I embraced the easy life, growing up alongside Victoria Sterling, the Sterlings' spoiled young heiress. Over the years, she became my devoted meal ticket, and I became an irreplaceable member of her family. On the day she gave birth, I lounged outside the delivery room, happily crunching on my imported freeze-dried treats. A panicked baby voice suddenly echoed in my head. [Waaah! I don't want them to take me away! My scumbag father is swapping me with his illegitimate daughter!] [I don't want to end up in an orphanage! I don't want to leave Mommy!] Before I could process that, another baby's voice rang out sinisterly. [Once I become the real heiress, the first thing I'll do is poison that woman and that fat cat.] I froze mid-bite. Every hair on my body stood on end. [Meow. You really picked the wrong cat to mess with.] [Anyone who dares lay a finger on the girl I raised is about to learn a very painful lesson.] With one powerful kick of my hind legs, I launched myself like a furry cannonball straight toward the delivery room.

Bad news: I died. Good news: I got transmigrated into a book. Bad news: I landed in the belly of a peasant woman and was about to be born as a fake heiress. Good news: I'd read this book cover to cover. I knew that when the real heiress came home, she'd use her parents' guilt against me. She'd even scheme to get me caught in bed with my own brother, so furious would our parents be that they'd throw me out of the house, and I'd die a miserable death in some back alley on a rainy night. So the year I turned five, I took every coin I'd ever been given and paid a street urchin to show up at the manor gates claiming to be the real heiress. When I turned eight, a second urchin took her place. At ten, a third. By the time I turned fifteen, the household already had eight "real heiresses" crammed into it. People back then didn't know about alum and water to distinguish family lines, so as far as anyone could tell, all eight girls shared blood with both the Marquis and his wife. As for why one daughter had become eight... The sage just smiled and said it wasn't meant to be spoken of. The year I turned sixteen, the real heiress finally came home.

I used to be the apple of my family's eye, but Suzanne Nilson changed that when she showed up on my birthday with a DNA test result. The Nilson family cruelly kicks me to the curb and throws me back to my biological parents, leading to me being sold off to the village idiot. Xavier Gubbens, with whom I've grown up, kicks the door down and saves me. Later, he etches a word on my face. "Do you think you're done repenting for your sins with this, Suzanne Nilson?" Later still, his eyes are red as he pleads, "Can't we go back to how things used to be?" How things used to be? There's no such thing. Everyone has to look to the future.