By admin wealthiest 2
The blow left me reeling. Distraught and lost in my thoughts, I stumbled into the street—only to be struck by a car.
At the hospital, I met Donnie, the doctor who treated my leg injury. He was kind, attentive—even bringing me homemade porridge every day.
When I was finally discharged, he showed up again—just in time to find me cornered in an alley by a group of men. They taunted me, calling me an orphan who’d killed her own parents. But Donnie stepped between us without hesitation, warning them the police were on their way.
He took me home that night and confessed.
“I fell for you the moment I saw you,” he said. “Let me protect you. For the rest of my life.”
I believed him.
But how could it be love if he never touched me? If he kept disappearing without explanation?
At first, I made excuses for him. Then, the truth hit me—he wasn’t staying for love.
[He’d seen my blood test results. That’s why he sought me out.]
[Poor, clueless me—I never saw the deception coming.]
I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced the words out: “Donnie… do you really love me?”
He froze, irritation flickering in his eyes. “Of course. Why else would I treat you so well?” He gestured impatiently. “Now go light the candles.”
Rage surged through me. I shoved him onto the bed. “What if I don’t want to?”
His face paled. “No! Just—turn off the lights and use the candles, okay?”
I smirked inwardly but played along, picking up the lighter. Moving closer, I whispered, “Donnie… let’s light them together.”
His breath hitched. He tried to pull back—then realized his hands were tied.
“Stop messing around!” he snapped. “Doing this in bed is dangerous. Use the table!”
That confirmed it—something was wrong with the lighter. I needed to get to the banquet hall. Fast.
“Donnie,” I lied smoothly, “they’re giving staff a $1,000 tip tonight! With that, I can finally buy you that watch you wanted. Wait here, okay?”
I pretended to check my phone and bolted.
Peering through the banquet hall doors, I saw Mr. and Mrs. Foster on stage, thanking their guests. Beside them stood a girl in elegant attire—Lena Foster, the imposter.
[Of course. Even my parents had a fake replacement.]
Lena took the mic, tears glistening. “Thank you, Mom and Dad, for never giving up on me. For loving me this past year.” She beamed. “But I’m 23 now—it’s time I repaid you. Thank you for the internship at the company. I love you.”
My pulse spiked.
Were they announcing her as their heir tonight?
[If that fraud gets into the company, it’s over.]
[She’s the reason the Foster Group’s reputation crumbled—taking bribes, extorting employees, bleeding the company dry.]
I lunged for the door—
A hand yanked me back.
“Rachel, they tricked you,” Donnie hissed. “There’s no tip. If you go in there, you’ll regret it.”
In the past, I might have listened.
Not anymore.