The Unintentionally Ideal Adopted Daughter Novels & Stories

Every gaze felt like needles stabbing into my skin. I clenched my fists, my voice icy. "What nonsense are you talking about? If I wanted a child, I could adopt one. Why would I steal yours?" Just then, Angela arrived with my parents. One hand resting on her stomach, she quickly took in the situation. Her eyes shifted slightly before she hurried over and gently tugged on the woman's arm. "Please don't be angry," she said softly. "My sister has been struggling to get pregnant for a long time, so she's under a lot of emotional stress. She just thought your baby was cute and couldn't help looking for a moment. She wasn't trying to steal your child."

She said, her lips trembling. Before her mother could respond, Julian shook his head and grabbed her arm. “You should leave. No one wants you here.” She lifted her head, searching his face, wondering if he felt nothing saying those words. “I’m your daughter too.” She whispered. 'Adopted daughter.' a voice whispered back but she pushed it to the side. They had adopted her a year before realizing they were expecting a child so she had never experienced real love from them. They had always favored Serena more.

Or someone had influenced her decision. "About yesterday." I started slowly, and she looked at me immediately, raising her perfectly curved brows. "I shouldn't have said you were being rude," I added, barely able to stop myself from rolling my eyes. Seriously, who was this woman making me do things Alfred Miller wouldn't do on a normal day? According to what my private investigator had found out, she was adopted by the De Novos in her teen years and had just moved back to the States when she got pregnant with her daughter. Nothing special or suspicious about her.

I said, my voice carefully controlled, "I still don't see what any of it has to do with you." "It has everything to do with me!!!" The composure shattered again, tears spilling fresh and fast. "I'm the daughter of a driver, Valerie! A driver!" She laughed, and the sound was broken beyond repair. Her eyes cut to Eve, sitting silently in the corner, and the look she gave her mother could have burned the building down. "Don't you get it? You are the daughter of a Thorne or the daughter of a St. Claire, either way the world will find a place for you. Either way, there is a name waiting for you. Why does it always have to be you?" Her voice cracked completely on the last word. "You were adopted a

“I… I was adopted after the orphanage. The family was kind at first. They treated me like their own like I finally mattered. I went to a good school, wore nice clothes, they even called me their little princess.” Her voice broke, and she swallowed. “Then one day, their real daughter came back. The one who got lost years ago. After that, everything changed. I was suddenly the mistake they regretted. They made me cook, clean, stay out of sight. And when I turned eighteen, they told me to leave. Just like that.” Liam’s hand tightened around his pen. “I had nowhere to go,” she whispered. “That’s when I got involved with people I shouldn’t have. I didn’t know where else to turn. And when things g

Henry and Lisa never hid their favoritism for Susan—from rooms and food to who stood by them at gatherings— they never thought it unfair. I once wondered if I was adopted. The truth was crueler. I was their biological daughter—Susan’s biological sister. My purpose, though, was to be her spare. Matching blood type, umbilical cord blood harvestable— they gave me life never so I could live, but so someone else wouldn’t die. I learned the truth late. It wasn’t that I wasn’t good enough. It was that they never intended to love me. As for the exception I believed in—Aron—he was the only one who had ever made me feel ‘gentleness.’

“No, Susan. Again. Let your fingers flow, don’t force them. Music isn’t about perfection. It’s about soul.” When I improved, her smile lit the room. “Yes. That’s it. My daughter is gifted.” Every time she called me daughter, my heart swelled. I studied languages, history, art. Tutors came and went, but Veronica always watched, correcting, guiding, nurturing. She dressed me in fine clothes, introduced me to aristocrats, told them proudly, “This is my daughter, Susan Green.” People whispered, of course. She’s not really her daughter. She’s adopted. She’s just a street child.

Anything would’ve been better than being labeled as the ‘adopted daughter's daughter’— a title that made it clear her place in the family wasn’t fully accepted. ***

She was always quiet and well-behaved, with good grades in school. She had worked at the Quimby Group for a while after graduating but had been chased out due to a scheme orchestrated by the fourth uncle's children. Nobody cared if she had been wrongly accused back then. She was just an adoptive daughter, and it was enough that the family provided her with a roof above her head.

“I had just lost my son, and your grandfather placed you in my arms, and when I looked at you, everything changed… It felt like I hadn’t lost my baby because I had you, Ben.” “So do you regret it?” She was silent for a while. “Regret what?” I sniffled softly. “Adopting me.” “Benny, honey, of course not… I love you, and you’ll always be my daughter, but I’m not happy with your life choices at the moment… and it still doesn’t sit well with me knowing that you were going to frame an innocent man for a baby he didn’t father.” I chuckled. “My daughter is not a manipulative monster, and I know that your father and I raised you better.”