After reading through both paternity test reports, Dora Hendrix looked up at the couple before her. "So. I was switched at birth with the Acosta family's child? Linda Acosta is your real daughter?"

For seventeen years, the Hendrix family had poured time, money, and effort into raising Dora to be the perfect image of grace and poise.

Audra Hendrix, merely gave a quiet "Yes" in response, her face blank and unreadable.

Next to her sat a girl with a messy ponytail and worn-out clothes, quietly sobbing. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying. "I'm sorry. this is all my fault."

She lifted her tear-streaked face to look at Dora, eyes full of false innocence. There was a flicker of jealousy-well hidden, quickly smothered.

"Dora, please don't be mad. If you don't want me here, I'll go back," she said softly, casting herself in the role of the pitiful underdog-vulnerable, humble, and oh-so-lovable.

Too bad no one in the Hendrix family had any interest in her little performance.

"There's no need to apologize," Dora said flatly. "I'll leave on my own." She didn't bother putting on a show for the Hendrix couple. She didn't care-and neither did they.

"Your real parents are poor," Linda added, head lowered, fingers nervously twisting her skirt. "I just don't want you to suffer with them."

It was a well-crafted line-on the surface, kind and selfless. But underneath, the message was clear: Dora had lived a luxurious life for seventeen years under false pretenses.

Now that the truth was out, any attempt to stay would seem greedy and inappropriate. Not only did Linda take a subtle jab at her, she made herself look generous and considerate in the process.

To an outsider, Linda's words might evoke sympathy. One might imagine how much hardship she must've endured with the Acosta family to grow into such a sweet, self-sacrificing girl. Some would be moved to shower her with affection, desperate to make up for the seventeen years she lost.

Unfortunately, her acting wasn't convincing. The three people in the room didn't buy it for a second.

A heavy, awkward silence settled over the room.

Dora gave a faint smile and studied Linda for a moment.

Where Dora's beauty was sharp and striking, Linda's features were plain and forgettable.

Her personality, at least, matched the files Dora had seen. She just hoped Linda would dial back the melodrama when it came time to meet the Hendrix family's two sons.

Dora sat down in a single armchair. Betty Campos, the housekeeper, rushed over and placed a steaming cup of coffee on the table. Dora set the folder beside it and took a sip, her calm demeanor making her seem like nothing more than an onlooker.

"What's your plan?" Jerrold Hendrix finally asked, voice low and steady.

"Since your real daughter is back, I'll go find my real parents," Dora said calmly. The coffee had steeped too long-its bitterness lingered on her tongue.

Jerrold had always believed they'd raised Dora well-she was capable, composed, and elegant. But in the end, blood was blood. No amount of polish could match the value of a biological daughter.

So when Dora said she was leaving, he didn't try to stop her.

"You've got two weeks to leave. I'll give you 1 million dollars. After that, you're on your own," he said.

It wasn't concern for her future. The money was a buyout-a clean break. From that moment on, Dora and the Hendrix family would have no further ties.

The Hendrix family had spent decades clawing their way through the business world. They knew better than to make enemies unnecessarily-alliances were always more valuable. Ruthlessness had its place, but they never went for the kill unless absolutely necessary.

There was no signed agreement, but the 1 million dollars served as a leash of sorts-a silent guarantee to safeguard the family's reputation.

"1 million dollars? That's way too much!" Linda shrieked, all traces of her earlier sweetness and humility gone. Her expression twisted with fury, as if she wanted to tear Dora apart on the spot.

"You think that's a lot?" Jerrold shot her a cold glance. Despite being her biological father, there wasn't a shred of warmth in his eyes.

That single look carried a crushing authority, like a predator sizing up its prey. Linda instantly shrank back, her bravado evaporating. "No, I just didn't expect you to be so... generous with her, Dad."

Dora took a sip of her freshly brewed coffee, the corners of her lips twitching in amusement. "Thank you, Mr. Hendrix. I'll remember your kindness over the past seventeen years."

The subtext was clear: she would take the money and walk away quietly, with no intention of slandering the Hendrix family or causing a scene. It was her way of drawing a clean line-settling the past without burning the bridge.

That was the Hendrix family for you-practical to the core. They respected time because it generated profit. Sentimentality, on the other hand, held no value.

Jerrold gave a curt nod. "Gather your things. Harland will drive you."

Dora set down her cup and stood. She had just reached the stairs when Linda's anxious voice cut through the air behind her.

"Dora, your birth parents live in a really small place. If you bring too much stuff, there won't be room. And. they're not well-off. They live in an old neighborhood. Those luxury items probably won't be much use-and honestly, they might leave a bad impression."

Anyone could hear the real message behind the words: she just didn't want Dora taking any of the Hendrix family's belongings.

Audra frowned in disapproval. None of those things meant anything to the Hendrix family. If word got out that they were squabbling over a few bags and accessories, it would only make them look petty.

She glanced at Betty Campos. "Go help her pack. Anything she doesn't take, throw it out."

Linda froze. 'Throw it out? Everything Dora leaves behind? But those are luxury items-jewelry, limited-edition designer bags. Any single piece is worth tens of thousands. Even the flats Dora is wearing cost over 25 thousand dollars.'

Tossing it all would be like burning a fortune.

Dora let out a light, amused laugh, then headed upstairs. She grabbed a small lambskin backpack and packed only the essentials-her ID, phone, and a few important documents.

She told Betty to mail her school uniform to the Acosta family. Everything else? She didn't even glance at it.

She left without a shred of hesitation.

She had always planned to leave the Hendrix family once she turned eighteen. Linda's sudden appearance simply moved up the timeline-and gave her the perfect excuse.

'Does Linda really think the Hendrix family is some kind of dream?' she thought.

Maybe for the men, it was a golden pyramid built on ambition and power. But for the women? No matter how well they were raised, they were nothing more than pawns-tools for business marriages and strategic alliances.

Blood ties only made the pawn more valuable.

Now that she had taken on the title of "daughter of the Hendrix family," Linda had better buckle up.

The two Hendrix brothers would be returning soon. And those two? They weren't just intense-they were downright dangerous.

If Linda didn't learn fast and play smart, she wouldn't last a week before they tore her apart.

The car dropped her off at the entrance of an old, worn-down apartment complex. With her phone in hand, Dora double-checked the detailed address she had saved and began walking in at a leisurely pace.

In the community garden, beneath the shade of a large, timeworn tree, sat a weathered stone table surrounded by elderly men engrossed in a game of chess.

Nearby, a group of middle-aged women crowded around the outdoor fitness equipment, chatting so loudly that half the neighborhood could hear who was cheating on whom and which kid had flunked a test.

Dora's bright, curious eyes scanned the scene. It was all new to her-but oddly charming. It felt just like something out of a TV show, full of life and down-to-earth charm.

Naturally, dressed head-to-toe in designer couture, her skin as pale and flawless as porcelain, she drew quite a few stares.

One look and it was obvious-this was a rich girl from some elite family. 'So what is she doing in a place like this?' they thought.

She ran into two nosy but friendly women who, after some excited chitchat, kindly pointed her in the right direction. Thanks to them, she soon found the Acosta family.

Each apartment in the complex had two doors: an outer iron gate and an inner wooden one.

Dora glanced up at the unit number, then down at her phone to confirm the address. Once she was sure, she looked around-there was no doorbell in sight.

She gave the iron gate a polite knock. Though it was soft, someone inside heard it.

"Who is it?" came a warm, gentle voice from inside. A moment later, the wooden door opened, revealing a woman with no makeup, yet still breathtaking in her natural beauty.

The moment Dora saw her face, she knew-this was her birth mother. She smiled and said, "Hello. I'm probably your biological daughter."

Chris Acosta froze.

The girl standing before her had luminous, fair skin and delicate, almond-shaped eyes that shimmered like spring water. It was like looking into a mirror from her own youth. Anyone would recognize her instantly-this was her daughter.

Hearing the unfamiliar voice, Alberto Acosta got up from the couch and came to the door. When he saw the girl's face-so strikingly similar to Chris's when she was younger-he was stunned.

The three stood there, staring at each other through the iron gate. Big eyes stared into big eyes. The moment felt oddly surreal.

Dora raised a brow politely. "Would it be alright if we talked inside?"

Chris snapped out of it and quickly opened the gate, ushering her in.

Dora stepped inside and took a quick look around.

The apartment was small. The wallpaper had yellowed, peeling in places. But it was obvious the family took pride in their space-everything was neat and clean. In one corner, a small table held a few lilies in a glass bottle, their soft fragrance floating gently in the air.

The place had a warm, lived-in feel. Still, she found it hard to imagine how six people could fit into such a tiny home.

"Please, have a seat. Let me get you some water," Chris said, a little stiffly as she handed over a glass of water.

Even just standing there, Dora carried the unmistakable presence of someone raised among wealth and privilege. She didn't need to say a word-the way she held herself said it all.

She accepted the glass with both hands and smiled politely. "Thank you. You can just call me Dora."

She took a sip. The water had a faint metallic taste-probably from rusty pipes. It wasn't something she was used to, but she showed no discomfort. When she set the glass down, it barely made a sound.

She looked perfectly at ease-as if she belonged there.

"I'm guessing Linda already filled you in on everything?" she asked.

Chris and Alberto exchanged a puzzled look before turning back to her and shaking their heads.

Right after lunch, a group of men in black suits had shown up, saying the daughter they'd raised for seventeen years-Linda-was actually the Hendrix family's biological child.

Before they could even ask questions, Linda had left with them without so much as a goodbye. She hadn't called or texted since.

They were still reeling from the shock. when Dora showed up at their door.

When she met their bewildered gazes, Dora pressed her lips together. This wasn't at all the situation she had anticipated.

She gave a simple explanation. "Basically, I was switched at birth with Linda. She's actually the Hendrix family's daughter, and I. I'm your biological daughter."

Alberto and Chris had considered the possibility before. But now, standing face-to-face with the daughter they had truly given birth to-poised, elegant, a product of seventeen years in high society-they suddenly felt awkward and unsure of themselves.

The silence in the small apartment stretched, heavy and uncomfortable. Sensing the tension, Dora decided to break it herself.

"I've already reviewed the Acosta family background. I have a general idea of who's who. Don't you have anything you want to ask me?"

It didn't feel like a family reunion. It felt more like a business meeting, just like 'I've reviewed your proposal. Any further questions or requests from your side?'

"Do you. like anything in particular to eat?" Chris asked nervously, unconsciously wiping her sweaty palms on her pants. "I can run to the market and pick something up. I'll make whatever you want."

"I'm not picky," Dora replied with a soft smile. She lifted the water glass and took another sip. The water had a faint metallic taste, but she figured she'd get used to it eventually.

Chris licked her lips, stood up, and glanced at Alberto. "I'll head to the market. You call Keith and the others-tell them to come back right away."

"Got it." Alberto watched her leave in a near-panic, then picked up his phone and gave Dora a sheepish look. "I'll just make a quick call."

"Go ahead." Dora stood as well, her gaze sweeping across the space. "Mind if I take a look around?"

Alberto's lips twitched. He nodded. "No, go ahead."

Her heels clicked softly against the floor as she wandered through the apartment.

It was a simple home: three bedrooms, a small living room, one kitchen, and one bathroom. Every room was small, but the layout and furnishings made it easy to tell who each space belonged to.

The master bedroom clearly belonged to the parents. A modest full-size bed and a two-door wooden wardrobe stood against the wall-old-fashioned, likely from the 80s or 90s, with no design sense to speak of.

The second bedroom was shared by the sister and Linda. Their single beds were arranged head-to-head in an L-shape, with a shared wardrobe nearby. Storage boxes crammed under the beds made the already tight space feel even more cramped.

It was obvious Linda had left in a rush-and with zero sentiment. Her belongings were still there, untouched.

Not surprising. Now that she had returned to the Hendrix family, everything here must've seemed like junk. Seventeen years of hand-me-downs suddenly meant nothing.

The third bedroom belonged to the brothers. There was a bunk bed, a small desk under the window, and a shared wardrobe.

Dora opened the wardrobe and scanned its contents. Most of the hanging clothes belonged to the younger brother. The older brother's wardrobe was modest-just a few folded items stacked neatly at the bottom.

The Acosta family had a home and a car-enough to be considered lower middle class. But with four kids all still in school, things were clearly tight financially.

Still, one look around and it was obvious: no matter how strapped for cash they were, the parents had never skimped on their children.

The sister, at that age when girls loved to dress up, had a full set of skincare and makeup products. Nothing luxury-brand, but all from recognizable labels.

The youngest, the little brother, had the most clothes. On his desk sat a bookshelf filled with storybooks and picture books-clearly, he was well cared for.

The older brothers seemed mature and responsible. He didn't have many personal items, but he helped out during school holidays by taking part-time jobs. He was practically a second provider for the family.

As for the things Linda left behind-well, even her pillow was the most expensive in the house. Judging by the material and stitching, it probably cost over 100 dollars. Under her bed were seven or eight pairs of stylish shoes, none of them cheaper than 170 dollars.

And yet, when the Hendrix family came to take her home, she had shown up wearing a worn-out, ill-fitting dress, playing the part of the poor, pitiful girl. That dress? Chances were, it belonged to her sister.

The iron gate made a loud metallic clang as it opened. Hearing the noise at the front door, Dora stepped out of the room to see who had arrived.

The first to walk in was a girl in her early twenties. She wore her hair in a high ponytail with blunt bangs. Her outfit was simple-just a plain T-shirt, jeans, and slightly yellowed white canvas sneakers, though they'd clearly been scrubbed clean.

Even in such plain clothes, her natural beauty stood out, and her features bore a striking resemblance to Jerrold's.

This was Rhoda Acosta, the eldest daughter of the Acosta family.

Holding her hand was a boy of about eight or nine-her youngest brother, Dewey Acosta.

As soon as Rhoda saw Dora-elegant and polished, looking completely out of place in the humble surroundings-she froze for a moment, then quickly lowered her gaze without saying a word.

Even Linda, who'd grown up in this home, had always thought it was too shabby. 'Who knows what this high-society heiress, raised by the Hendrix family for seventeen years, must be thinking right now?' Rhoda thought.

The next to enter was a tall teenage boy. As he stepped through the doorway, he instinctively ducked his head.

His clothes were even simpler than his siblings', but his refined features and gentle demeanor gave off a quiet elegance. He looked soft-spoken and kind-completely different from the two loud and overbearing brothers Dora had grown up with in the Hendrix family.

Seeing her siblings for the first time, Dora greeted them with a warm, soft smile. "Hi. Nice to meet you all. I'm Dora."

Her gentle, polite tone made Rhoda's heart skip a beat. She lifted her head, almost in disbelief, and met Dora's bright, clear gaze.

'She. isn't bothered by how modest the house is?' she wondered.

Something in Rhoda's heart settled. She offered a small, reserved smile. "Dad already explained everything. I'm the eldest-Rhoda. This is our youngest brother, Dewey."

"I'm the second eldest-Keith," the teenage boy added. His smile was gentle, and his peach-blossom eyes carried a quiet warmth. Compared to their parents' nervousness and Rhoda's unease, his demeanor was the most natural and welcoming.

But to Dora, there was something else in his expression too-something that looked a lot like quiet resignation. Maybe he'd already learned not to expect much-especially after how coldly Linda had walked away from them.

Chris came back from the market and went straight into the kitchen, clearly trying to avoid talking to Dora.

Meanwhile, Dora and Alberto sat on the three-seater fabric couch, while the other three siblings sat cross-legged on the floor. With so many people in the small living room, the space suddenly felt cramped.

A girl none of them had met before had suddenly appeared, claiming to be their biological sister. No one quite knew what to say, and the air was thick with awkward tension.

After a long pause, Alberto let out a heavy sigh and finally spoke.

"Dora, you've seen how things are here. You didn't get to enjoy the good times with us, and now that things are harder, I don't think it's fair to ask you to squeeze into this tiny sixty-square-yard apartment with the rest of us. I can rent a place for you nearby and give you a monthly allowance. Would that work for you?"

Dora took the last sip of her water, set the glass down, and looked at him with a hint of vulnerability in her eyes. "You. don't want me to live here?"

Alberto froze, flustered. "No, of course not! I just thought maybe. you wouldn't be used to it."

As she saw that she was welcome to stay, Dora's smile brightened. "If you really don't mind, I'd like to live here. I want to come home."

Keith, who had been helping Dewey clean his hands, paused mid-motion. His gaze flickered.

He didn't really believe Dora had come here to stay. After all, she hadn't brought a single bag. She was probably just curious-dropping by to meet her biological family out of obligation or interest.

The Hendrix family had everything-wealth, power, status. Enough for Linda to turn her back on this family without hesitation, to abandon seventeen years of memories and ties.

'How could Dora be any different? Could she really give all that up-walk away from her life of privilege and return here, empty-handed, to squeeze into a tiny apartment with five strangers?' he thought.

And yet. she said she wanted to stay.

Rhoda was caught off guard too. After a moment of thought, she said, "I'm heading back to school tomorrow. If Dora's staying here, I'll pack up my stuff and clear out the room. We can swap the bed for a larger one."

Alberto's brain practically short-circuited. He didn't want Dora to feel like she was being treated unfairly, but that didn't mean he could favor one daughter over another. 'Rhoda is my child too-how could she not have a room in her own home?' he thought.

Before he could protest, Dora smiled and chimed in, "Sounds great. If we get a bigger bed, we could even fit a vanity in there. Then you won't have to keep your makeup stashed under the bed. When school's out for the holidays, we can just share the room."

Rhoda stared at her, eyes wide with surprise. Emotions flickered in her gaze like stars.

Linda had complained constantly about not having a room to herself. She'd brought up more than once that Rhoda should just stay in her dorm and stop coming home-so she could have the room all to herself.

She couldn't even tolerate sharing a space. And yet here was Dora-saying they could sleep in the same room.

This wasn't at all the kind of spoiled heiress she'd imagined.

Everyone stared at Dora, stunned into silence. Since no one said anything, she just kept the conversation going.

"Keith and Dewey's room is too cramped. They've only got one desk-it's not great for studying. I was thinking of asking a friend to help rework the room layout tomorrow."

Alberto was the first to come to his senses. He didn't want Dora feeling like she needed to use her connections for their sake, but when he thought about it again-this was for her brothers. He really had no reason to refuse, and even less right to speak on their behalf.

Sensing Keith's hesitation, Dora added, "Don't worry, it's just a childhood friend. It's really no trouble at all."

Keith pressed his lips together and thought for a few seconds before nodding. "Alright. Thank you-I appreciate it."

Dewey's big eyes lit up as he turned to her. "Dora, does that mean I'll get my own desk?"

Dora had never really spent time with little kids. The Hendrix family only had older brothers, and she was mostly surrounded by people her own age. As she looked at Dewey's round, innocent face, something inside her unexpectedly softened.

"You really want your own desk that much?"

Dewey nodded eagerly. "Yeah! I love drawing, but one time I accidentally got paint on my brother's homework. If I had my own desk, that wouldn't happen anymore!"

"Then let's get you your very own desk," Dora said, her smile tender, peach-blossom eyes curling into soft crescents.

Just then, Chris came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. "Dinner's ready-let's eat. After we're done, I'll tidy up the room. Dora, you can stay there for tonight, and we'll get a new bed delivered tomorrow."

She'd heard everything from the kitchen. And now that she was sure Dora had truly accepted this family, some of the unease in her heart began to ease.

Dinner was a feast. A rich, fragrant fish soup, shrimp, beef, bacon with broccoli, and pickled cabbage-five dishes in total, barely fitting on the small coffee table.

Dewey's eyes sparkled with excitement. He loved shrimp, but they only had it on holidays-and never ones this big.

Dora, who'd grown up surrounded by fine dining, didn't think much of the food itself. But she could clearly feel the care and effort that had gone into preparing it.

Under Chris's expectant gaze, Dora picked up a piece of beef and took a bite. She nodded approvingly.

"Mom, your cooking is amazing. You could open a restaurant with this."

Chris beamed, glowing with happiness. She eagerly started piling food into Dora's plate. "If you like it, eat more! And if there's ever something you're craving, just tell me-I'll make it for you."

Looking down at the little mountain of food in her plate, Dora froze for a moment-then smiled softly. "Thanks, Mom."

Dinner ended on a warm, cheerful note, and the awkwardness from earlier had all but disappeared.

Alberto gathered the dishes and started washing up, while Chris went to find clean sheets. In the shared bedroom, Rhoda and Keith were busy clearing out the belongings Linda had left behind.

When Dora arrived, she brought nothing with her but a bit of money. Planning to pick up a few essentials, she decided to take a walk and shop for some clothes.

Dewey insisted on tagging along, saying he could show her the way, so she took his hand and brought him along.

Just five minutes from the apartment was a local market. Beyond it, the street came alive-lined with coffee shops, snack stalls, and a string of small clothing boutiques.

For Dora, shopping like this was a whole new experience. In the past, buying clothes meant sitting in a designer store's private VIP room, sipping coffee and sampling pastries while models walked her through new collections. A few taps on a tablet, and the outfits were hers.

Other times, she didn't even need to go out-her measurements would be sent to a designer for fully customized pieces.

Now, she picked out three or four comfortable outfits and a pair of sneakers-simple and practical.

On the way back, they passed a stall selling candy. Dewey glanced at the glass display several times but never said a word, clearly trying to be considerate.

Noticing this, Dora smiled and bought him a strawberry one.

His face lit up with the pure joy only a child could show. "Thank you, Dora!"

Beaming, he held up the candy toward her. "Here, you have one too!"

The first bite was always saved for someone special. That was his way of showing affection.

Dora paused, then reached out and gently tousled his hair. "I don't really like sweets. You eat it."

Dewey blinked and gave a small "oh," then began counting the candies. His smile widened, full of innocent delight. "There are six! I'll give one to Keith, Rhoda, and Dad. Since you're not eating any, Mom can have two!"

"Sounds perfect," Dora said with a soft laugh.

*****

Meanwhile, in the bedroom, Keith felt like his heart was being sliced open, piece by piece.

Alberto had called earlier to tell them Linda was actually the Hendrix family's daughter-and that she'd already been taken back by them.

Even after hearing it, Keith had still clung to a bit of hope. Maybe she'd come back. After all, they'd lived as a family for seventeen years. That had to mean something.

If Linda didn't want to stay with the Hendrix family, surely they wouldn't just let Dora-someone they'd spent a fortune raising-walk out the door. One of the girls had to stay.

But the moment he saw Dora walk into the house, he knew. Linda wasn't coming back.

Even now, he could hardly believe it. The little sister he'd adored for seventeen years had walked away-no hesitation, no goodbyes-like those years meant nothing.

He spotted the raccoon plushie lying in a cardboard box beside the trash and clenched his jaw, his chest tightening painfully.

He had given her that toy when they were little. Back then, Linda couldn't fall asleep without it in her arms.

She used to love that plushie. Just like she used to love this family. But ever since the Acosta family went bankrupt, everything had changed.

From a distance, Dora saw Keith picking up the toy from the pile of things they'd planned to throw out. He gently brushed the dust off it, holding it as if it were something fragile and precious-like he was salvaging a shard of happiness from a wreck.

In his eyes, sorrow shimmered-deep and unspoken.

Of everyone in the family, it was Keith who had taken Linda's departure the hardest. He was the most disappointed. The most heartbroken. And the least willing to let go.

"Keith."

At the sound of Dora's voice, Keith startled and quickly hid the plushie behind his back.

As Dora approached, his guilt deepened. He was terrified she'd think he hadn't accepted her. Terrified she'd believe he still couldn't let go of Linda.

Dora's expression was calm and unreadable. She said lightly, "No need to hide it-I saw everything."

Keith lowered his eyes like a child caught doing something wrong. Slowly, he pulled out a stuffed raccoon. "Linda used to love this toy. She always kept it by her pillow and slept with it every night. I never thought. she wouldn't even want this anymore."

"She's let go of far more than just this."

That offhand comment from Dora landed like a blade to the heart. It stung-and only through the pain did Keith begin to see things clearly. With a quiet sigh, he asked, "Do you want to take it?"

He looked down at the raccoon in his hands, his fingers tightening as he hesitated, torn between emotion and resolve.

After a long pause, he suddenly tossed the toy back into the cardboard box, then forced a smile. "Forget it. It's not worth anything."

Dewey stared at the discarded raccoon for a long time. He had always liked it. But it used to be Dora's favorite, and even though he liked it, he'd never dared to touch it.

Now, the thing she once cherished was just a piece of trash. Keith must be heartbroken.

"Hey, look!" he said, grinning brightly. "Dora bought me candies! Want one?" He held out the skewer. "Something sweet always helps when you're sad."

As he was touched by Dewey's thoughtfulness, the tight knot in Keith's chest loosened a little. He smiled warmly, crouched down, and took a bite of the first sugar-glazed strawberry.

"It's sweet. Really good."

*****

The small fan squeaked and groaned in the summer night. The house had poor soundproofing-Dora could clearly hear her parents, Chris and Alberto, talking softly in the living room. From outside the window came the occasional noise of neighbors from nearby apartments.

She wasn't used to this kind of environment. After living in the quiet of a villa neighborhood, the noise and unfamiliar bed made it hard to sleep. She lay there for a long time, eyes drifting across the ceiling, the faint scent of detergent clinging to the bedding.

Suddenly remembering she hadn't told someone she'd left the Hendrix family, she picked up her phone and sent off a message.

Sleep barely came that night.

By morning, she could hear the muffled voices of Rhoda and their parents outside.

"Dora's not up yet?"

"No. I heard her tossing and turning all night-probably not used to the bed. You two should get her a better mattress. There's 'buy now, pay later' online. My scholarship comes next week-we can pay for it then."

"Rhoda, you're one of our two daughters. We know you used to spend your own allowance buying things for Linda. You've really been through a lot. Keep your scholarship money-Dad can handle the mattress."

"He's right, Rhoda. You're my daughter too, and I want you to be able to dress up and look nice. Here's your allowance for the month-hold on to it. And take this 100 dollars too, buy yourself some new clothes."

"It's okay, Mom. You keep it. I have a part-time job in the cafeteria, so I don't need to spend my own money on meals-and I'm making a bit too. It's enough. Dora's still getting used to everything-try to improve the food a little, so she eats better."

Though they spoke in hushed voices, the house was small, and the walls thin-Dora heard every word.

By the time she got dressed and walked out of her room, Rhoda and Alberto were already gone.

"Mom, where did Dad and Rhoda go?" she asked.

Chris handed her a cup of water. "The new semester's starting soon. Rhoda's at university in another area. She wanted to go back early and tidy up her dorm. Your dad's driving taxi today, so he gave her a lift to the train station."

Train rides for long-distance trips were exhausting, but they were cheap. Morning tickets were even cheaper. Clearly, Rhoda was trying to save every cent.

And yet someone so careful with money didn't hesitate to spend over 300 dollars just to buy her a softer mattress-so she could sleep more comfortably.

Dora's brows knit slightly. Something about all this stirred a strange, unsettled feeling in her chest.

"What do you want for breakfast? How about some pasta?" Chris asked as she headed into the kitchen.

"I'll eat whatever you make," Dora replied casually, heading into the bathroom to wash up.

By then, Keith and Dewey were already up.

The four of them gathered around the coffee table and ate pasta together.

"Oh, right-Mom," Dora said mid-meal, "I need the house document to get the transfer paperwork started."

Chris blinked, only just realizing the issue. "Do you want me to go with you?"

"No need. It won't take long. I'm meeting a friend afterward anyway."

With Dora insisting, Chris didn't push further.

After breakfast, Keith left for work, Dewey ran off to play with other kids in the neighborhood, and Chris went to a nearby craft workshop to do part-time work and help cover expenses.

That left Dora alone at home.

When she heard a knock at the door, she got up and opened the wooden inner door. Through the iron gate, she saw a familiar face grinning with that unmistakably cocky smirk. She lifted a brow and smiled lazily.

"You're early," she said, unlocking the gate and letting him in.

"Of course. The princess speaks, and I come flying over-didn't even stop for breakfast. Loyal enough for you?"

Erin Cain walked in, and Dora followed behind, giving him a quick tour of the place while explaining what she had in mind.

He pulled out a tape measure, moving room to room, measuring this and eyeballing that. After a few minutes, he turned to her and asked, "What's the budget?"

Dora thought for a second. "7 thousand dollars."

"7 thousand dollars?" Erin's face scrunched like he'd just swallowed a lemon. "Seriously? Your old mattress alone cost more than that, and now you want me to redo the entire place on the same budget?"

Dora leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, her tone light. "If it were easy, I wouldn't be asking the great Erin to do it."

Compliments were rare coming from Dora, and Erin wasn't about to waste the moment. He straightened up, adjusted the wrinkles on his shirt with mock seriousness, and grinned. "Of course. If I'm on the job, you've got nothing to worry about."

Dora nodded along playfully. "With you taking the lead, I'm totally at ease."

Once he finished measuring and taking notes, Erin had already started mapping out the layout in his head.

"Have some water," Dora said offhandedly.

He'd been there for over half an hour before she remembered to offer him a drink. After all, she'd never had to pour coffee or serve guests-being a rich heiress didn't require such things.

Back in the living room, they sat down again. Erin closed his tablet, downed the glass of water in one go, then exhaled in relief and shot her a sly look.

"So, you're really planning to stay here? Done with caviar and truffle risotto?"

Erin knew her too well. A child raised by the Hendrix family wasn't the type to care about family bonds or blood ties. What mattered was value-benefit.

So for her to come back and live with the Acosta family? It definitely wasn't out of sentiment. No way she had a secret passion for charity work.

Dora gave a knowing smile. "Do you know why the Acosta family went bankrupt back then?"

Erin paused, thinking. "I vaguely remember hearing something... wasn't it because Rhoda got into some kind of trouble with the Hendrix family's second young master Matt's girlfriend while working part-time? Then Matt retaliated and crushed the Acosta family?"

"More or less," Dora said. That was the incident on the surface, but she knew better-Rhoda wasn't the real reason everything fell apart.

Coming back to the Acosta family wasn't just about going head-to-head with Matt Hendrix.

It was also because the report she'd read was too sterile, too clinical-just a bunch of facts on paper. She wanted to see for herself what it looked like when a family fell from grace.

'Have they really accepted their downfall so calmly? So gracefully? Or are there deeper, messier emotions simmering beneath the surface?' she wondered. Either way, it was going to be interesting.

As they chatted, a noise came from the front door. Both of them looked over just in time to see Alberto walking in.

"Dad? Weren't you out on a ride?" Dora asked, surprised.

"I forgot to charge my phone. Just came back to grab the cable," he said as his gaze fell on the boy sitting beside Dora. There was something familiar about him. "And this is...?"

Dora gave a casual introduction. "This is my friend, Erin. He's in interior design. I mentioned him yesterday-asked him to come by and take a look at the layout."

Erin instantly frowned at her choice of words. "In interior design" sounded a lot more dignified in his mind than "in renovations." Three words, and she'd knocked him down several rungs in status.

Still, Erin stood up and greeted politely, "Nice to meet you. Dora asked me to redesign the room layout. Hope I'm not intruding."

Alberto froze for a beat. The name Erin wasn't unfamiliar. He was a well-known prodigy in interior design-awards piling up before he even hit twenty.

People lined up to throw money at him for a design, and he was famous for turning them down. Rumor had it someone once offered 3 million dollars for a single sketch, but Erin took one look at their outfit, declared them aesthetically hopeless, and kicked them out.

Notoriously talented. Infamously difficult. And now, somehow, Dora's friend.

"No, not at all! Please, go right ahead-I'm just here for the charger," Alberto said quickly. He ducked under the coffee table, grabbed the cable, and slipped out in a hurry, not wanting to get in the way.

The Acosta family had once been part of the upper class, and Erin knew all too well how his reputation floated through those circles. He wasn't surprised by Alberto's cautious deference.

They didn't say much more. Erin left to get started on the design, while Dora grabbed her documents Chris had handed her-it was time to process her transfer.

On the way out, she stopped by Chris's workplace.

The small workshop was tucked beside the neighborhood entrance, filled with seven or eight women chatting while labeling toys.

"Mom," Dora called from the doorway. Chris looked up, and Dora continued, "I'm heading out. Won't be back for lunch."

"Alright." Chris smiled gently, the kind of serene beauty poets used to write about. "Come home for dinner, then?"

"Yeah. I'm in the mood for fish."

"How about fish soup?"

"Sounds great. I'm off."

As soon as she left, the women inside started whispering excitedly.

"Chris, that pretty girl-she's your daughter? I've never seen her before."

A warm, proud look crossed Chris's face. "She's my second daughter."

"Second? But I thought I saw your second daughter the other day. and she looked nothing like her?"

For a split second, Chris's smile faltered. Then she pulled it back together and replied, "It's a bit complicated. But yes-she's my second daughter."

"Oh. well, she's gorgeous! The spitting image of you."

Seeing Chris's expression shift, the others tactfully dropped the subject. Instead, they all turned to admiring the girl with cheerful compliments.

*****

At the end of the market street, a sleek black McLaren was parked at the curb.

Dora opened the back door and slid into the car.

The man beside her had warm eyes and a sharp, confident air. The moment he spotted her from afar, his gaze hadn't left her.

"You really are something else," he said, grinning. "This big of a move, and you only tell me now?"

Dora smiled faintly, took his hand, and casually played with his fingers-like it was something she'd done countless times before.

"You just got back. Telling you earlier wouldn't have changed anything."

Byron Hodges let out a soft, amused hum and teased, "So that's how it is. Tell me then-did you miss me?"

Dora couldn't decide whether to laugh or roll her eyes. "What do you think?"

Byron let out a theatrical sigh. "You've probably forgotten all about me. It's been ages and you haven't even reached out once. Bet you don't even remember my name."

"You deserve an Oscar for that drama," she said, poking his palm with her fingertip.

Byron dropped the act and asked, more seriously, "Getting used to life at the Acosta family?"

"Not really. I barely slept last night." Dora leaned her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. The sound of his low, calming voice helped her relax instantly. Her own voice grew soft and sleepy. "I had Erin over earlier to check out the layout. If all goes well, renovation should start the day after tomorrow."

"Erin moves fast." Byron paused, then added, "If you're not sleeping well, why don't you crash at my place tonight?"

He didn't hear a response. Glancing down, he saw that she had already drifted off.

With a helpless smile, he asked the driver to turn up the heat a little.

The car was filled with the faint, comforting scent of citrus from Byron's cologne-something that always helped Dora unwind. Among the people she was close to, she trusted him the most.

She ended up sleeping on his shoulder for two whole hours. By the time she woke up, the car was already parked outside the administrative office.

"You're up?" Byron was holding her hand with one of his, the other gently scratching her chin.

"Yeah," Dora mumbled, her voice soft and a little dazed from sleep.

His hand paused mid-motion. A flush crept up the tips of his ears, and he swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry.