Pitchforks & Billionaires

I was the fake heiress, and Id known it for a long time. When they finally tracked down the real daughter, the whole family lined up to offer their rehearsed, pathetic pity.

I didn't shed a single tear. I just zipped up my bags.

Sitting in the passenger seat of a massive moving truck packed to the brim with cardboard boxes, I rolled down the window. I threw a breezy wave to the crowd still standing on the mansion's perfectly manicured lawn, their faces frozen.

Hard feelings? Please.

God knows Id been counting down the days for this exact moment.

Chapter 1

It was 2:00 PM, and the sun was glaring down on the city. I was nodding off at my cubicle, which was less of a workspace and more of a miniature jungle. Sandwiched between a ridiculous number of potted succulents was a small fish tank holding three goldfish and a tiny painted turtle. Honestly, I looked less like an employee and more like someone aggressively enjoying an early retirement.

The shrill ring of my phone shattered the office's quiet. I shot up from my desk like I'd been electrocuted, frantically wiping a trail of drool from my chin. Squinting at the name flashing on the screen, I took a deep breath and aggressively swiped to answer.

"Miss, something has come up. We need you to come home." It was Chester, the family butler.

"Uh, sure."

I grabbed my bag, kicked my office chair away, and bolted out of the cubicle like I was fleeing a five-alarm fire. Pushing open the heavy oak doors of the mansion, I instinctively tossed my keys into the catchall tray in the foyer and yelled out, "Your party queen is home!"

The words hung in the air, landing with a heavy, unnatural silence. The vibe was way off. Mom and Dad were anchored to the center of the massive sectional, while Grant and Tristanmy oldest and second-oldest brotherswere flanked on the single armchairs. Everyones face was grim.

Like, open-casket-funeral grim. Hmm forming a triangle of absolute awkwardness. No, wait, geometrically speaking, a triangle is the most stable shape. Whatever.

Chester stood off to the side, looking deeply troubled, his eyes a little red. A jolt of panic hit me. "Whoa are we bankrupt?"

Mom and Dad narrowed their eyes at me in unison.

Then it hit meimpossible. Our family literally owned half the city. Which meant it could only be one thing. Just the thought of it made me bite down hard on my inner lip to keep the corners of my mouth from twitching upward.

Mom pulled me down to sit beside her, her voice trembling. "Sloane we just found out you're not our biological daughter."

Jackpot! My internal cheerleaders were throwing a parade, but I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting back a full-blown grin.

Dad misread my contorted expression. He let out a long breath, rubbing his temples.

"I understand how devastated you must be. But we watched you grow up. You've been the apple of our eye. Don't worry, this is still your home"

No, I'm really not devastated.

Mom squeezed my hands tightly. "Sloane, honey, I know this is a lot to process But Clara has been living out in the country, all alone with nothing We can't just leave her out there."

Trust me, Ive fully processed it. I nodded vigorously, totally agreeing with her. "Absolutely. I'll pack my things and move out."

Grant instantly shot out of his chair, his jaw locked. "We're not exactly strapped for cash. You stay right here. If she even tries to give you an ounce of attitude, I'll personally throw her out on the street!"

Tristan chimed in right on cue, crossing his arms. "Exactly. You're the sister we grew up with. You're the only sister I acknowledge."

I didn't waste my breath arguing. I just turned around and marched upstairs, dragging out my suitcases while they stared at me in total shock.

I was the fake heiress.

As a bottom-tier corporate slave who had accidentally transmigrated into this ridiculous, over-the-top billionaire romance novel, I had the entire plot memorized backwards and forwards. I'd been counting down the days, just waiting for the real billionaire heiress to return and kick off her epic revenge arc.

What pissed me off was that even after transmigrating into the body of an elite socialite, I still couldn't escape the grinding fate of a corporate drone.

Wasn't I just supposed to smile perfectly for the cameras, sip champagne at galas, and max out my black cards with absolutely zero remorse?

Also. What the actual hell! Nobody warned me before I crossed over that the rules of the ultra-rich were this utterly suffocating.

My daily schedule was choked with mind-numbing equestrian lessons, high-society dinner etiquette, and god-awful financial statement analysis, all while being forced to practice appropriate smiling in four different languages. I was sick to my stomach of this fake, plastic life where even my breathing felt calculated.

Thirty minutes later, the movers Id booked pulled up to the driveway. It was exactly what I wanteda massive moving truck. The driver and his crew jumped out, marched upstairs, and started clearing out my room under my strict, rapid-fire directions. I wasn't going to play the noble martyr here.

If it belonged to me in this house, I was taking it. I even made them dismantle and pack the damn bed.

Chapter 2

"Mom, Dad, when Clara gets back, remember to buy her a much more comfortable bed! Oh, actually, no. You'd better give her a bigger room altogether. I've lived in this one, so it's not good enough for her anymore."

I seriously didn't understand the mental defect those fake heiresses in novels had. The real daughter comes back, and they still brainlessly shove their faces forward just to get slapped. They practically beg to fight for the affection of the biological parents. And in the end?

They get absolutely obliterated by the real heiress. It's like they're allergic to peace and actively seek out misery.

I wasn't an idiot. My previous life as a corporate drone had completely drained my battery; I didn't have a single ounce of energy left for some twisted, high-society catfight.

Cherish your life, stay the hell away from that damn rich-people drama, and just focus on surviving this game until the end credits roll.

I took one last lap around the mansion, double-checking the rooms for anything I might have missed.

Grant shadowed my steps. "Sloane, are you really moving out?"

Tristan was right on his heels. "Sloane, after all these years, do you really feel nothing for us?"

Mom buried her face in Dad's chest, her shoulders shaking. "Can you just stay? I really do love you."

I knew that. Which was exactly why I had to leave.

I took a step back, putting physical distance between us, and shrugged. "If I don't leave, when the true heir who has suffered out there walks through that door, is she going to look at me and still feel like this damn mansion is her home? Ive coasted on her luxury for years while she suffered. If she comes home and has to watch her biological family dote on the cuckoo bird who stole her nest, I highly doubt shell be thrilled."

Grant's brows knit together. "We're bringing her back. What more could she want? Besides, you're innocent in all this."

"Grant," I said flatly, cutting off his logic. "I'm the primary beneficiary of this massive screw-up. It might not be my fault, but I've lived a life of absolute privilege at her expense."

"I am the furthest thing from innocent. I can't have my cake and eat it too."

Dad and Tristan opened their mouths to argue, but I held up a hand, slicing through the air like a stop sign. "My mind is made up. And I'm not taking counteroffers."

What a joke. My lifelong dream was to escape to a remote town where nobody knew my name, buy a wooden cabin with a front porch, and sit in a rocking chair drinking an iced beer while watching the sunsetnever having to reply to another soul-crushing email again. The over-exploited grind of my past life had left me completely fed up. This time, absolutely no one was going to stop me from fleeing this toxic circle and living my own life!

The driver hauled my entire life a thousand miles away to Denver. By the time everything was unloaded and stacked inside the new place, the sky was pitch black.

I stared at the chaotic mountain of boxes for all of five seconds before asking the driver to drop me off at my small apartment downtown. It was a modest place I'd bought a year ago, right after I first crossed over into this world.

As a transmigrator who had the script in advance, making early preparations was just basic common sense.

As for why I didn't follow the plot and track down the real heiress early? It wasn't for lack of trying. I literally couldn't find her. God only knows what she was up to.

Every time I took a vacation out to her hometown, I completely missed her. I had practically become best friends with the local townspeople! Yet I still didn't even know what her face looked like.

I took a hot shower and slipped into an oversized, faded SpongeBob T-shirt.

I flopped onto the bed and started calculating my bank balance. The family might have had strict rules, but they never shortchanged the kids on allowance. It wasn't as insane as the TV shows, throwing around hundreds of thousands of dollars like pocket change. Everyone got a flat 0-00,000 a month.

But for a hardcore corporate dog like me, that was literally six months' salary in my past life!

The original owner of this body spent money like water, so she hadn't saved a dime. The cash currently sitting in my accounts was purely from my own hoarding over the past year.

When I left, my adoptive parents and brothers practically threw credit cards and wire transfers at me. I didn't play coy or pretend to be nobleI accepted every single cent.

What a joke. I just wanted out of the toxic billionaire drama; it didn't mean I was allergic to money.

Chapter 3

More savings meant my lie-flat retirement was going to be even sweeter!

After crunching the numbers, I had a little over a million bucks. In my family's ultra-rich circles, that balance was practically a rounding error. It wouldn't even cover the bar tab for one of those trust-fund kids' weekend parties.

But down here in the corporate grind trenches? I was officially a self-made mini-millionaire.

Twenty minutes later, I had an ice-cold Coke in my left hand and a massive slice of freshly delivered, cheese-dripping deep-dish pizza in my right. "Damn, this calorie-free-worry lifestyle is absolutely amazing."

I woke up the next morning feeling ridiculously refreshed. Its amazing how much energy you have when you don't have to clock in for a soul-crushing job.

Still in my pajamas and sliding around in my flip-flops, I wandered out of the apartment and headed to the diner down the street. I threw down serious cash for their deluxe double bacon cheeseburger. I'd been craving this absolute garbage food for entirely too long.

The middle-aged lady at the counter gave me a huge, welcoming wave. "Morning, sweetie!"

I beamed back at her. "Morning, gorgeous!"

Mornings are only genuinely good when you aren't rushing to an office.

The counter lady winked at me, generously sliding two extra strips of extra-crispy bacon right into my burger.

The second I took a bite, the grease and melted cheese hit my tongue, and I let out a literal groan of pure satisfaction. Who could even understand this level of joy? I hadn't had a single bite of this glorious junk food in the entire year I'd spent trapped in that mansion.

After my glorious breakfast, I hit up a massive discount superstore and spent the entire morning aggressively hunting for bargains. I bought several full sets of cheap, comfortable clothes. Then I hit the pharmacy aisles to stock up on daily necessities and an ungodly amount of bug spray. The countryside was great and all, but the mosquitoes were basically apex predators.

I threw every brand of repellent into my cart. At least one of these toxic chemical sprays had to work.

Fully stocked, I hauled my bags back to the apartment, moving at the sluggish, relaxed pace of a snail.

After changing, I looked down at my $5 plain cotton tee and my $8 baggy sweatpants. I really knew how to stretch a dollar.

I gave the loose cotton pants a little shake, feeling the cool breeze flow right up the pant legs. "Now this is how life is supposed to be lived!"

All those insanely expensive designer dresses and heels weren't exactly farm-appropriate. I dragged them all out, took pictures, and listed them on eBay and Depop at a massive discount. Since I was never going to wear them again, I might as well pass them on to someone who needed the clout, and pad my wallet in the process.

My bank account was already fat enough to fund my early country retirement, but nobody in the history of the world has ever complained about having too much money. I despised working, but I absolutely loved cash!

For dinner, I hit up the Mexican joint across the street and ordered a table completely covered in high-calorie garbage. A mountain of nachos smothered in liquid cheese, massive tacos stuffed with grilled meat and refried beans, and a huge platter of bone-in wings drowned in a heavy, spicy sauce

I grabbed half a chicken wing and shoved it into my mouth, finally experiencing the absolute euphoria of consuming pure calories like water!

The intense hot sauce had tears streaming down my face, but it felt so ridiculously good I couldn't stop.

Back in that mansion, my diet was strictly dictated by a live-in nutritionist. Forget eating hot sauce and greaseI would've lost my mind if I even caught a whiff of it.

An hour later, I was rubbing my aggressively stuffed stomach and mentally reviewing the plot of the novel.

It was a trashy soap-opera book titled Billionaire's Mistake: The True Heiress Returns.

In the original storyline, after the real daughter, Clara, was found, the fake heiressSloanecompletely lost her mind. She threw epic tantrums, refused to let go of her status, and used every dirty trick in the book to fight Clara for her parents' affection and her brothers' favoritism. And after being dumped by her own fianc, she even tried to steal Clara's man.

She successfully alienated every single person who actually still cared about her, turning them all into bitter enemies. In the end, isolated and with her reputation dragged through the mud, she was kicked to the curb.

Because she racked up a massive mountain of debt and managed to piss off Clara's most psychotic simpotherwise known as the second male leadshe ended up dead in a dark, filthy alley. It took days for anyone to even find her body.

Modern novels literally threw logic out the window just to torture the cannon fodder. Being evil purely for the sake of being evil. And completely ignoring the existence of actual laws.

Chapter 4

The original owner of this body had working hands and feet, and she grew up completely smothered in love. How the hell did she end up so violently unhinged later in the plot? Why did she have to aggressively fight to be the absolute center of attention? Couldn't she just let everyone coexist in peace?

Whatever. I chose to stay miles away from the main cast and retire to the country. The mansion was nice, but billionaire rules were suffocating. The countryside was way more liberating.

That afternoon, I booked a flight back to the city. I had packed so fast yesterday that I left my turtle and fish behind. They had kept me company for a whole year. I promised them wed share the good times, and theyd take the hit for the bad times.

I pulled out my phone. My unread messages were already sitting at 99+. There were a bunch of digital cash transfer notifications. I accepted every single dollar before scrolling through the actual chat logs.

Aside from the texts checking in on me from the family, there were plenty of sarcastic, mocking messages from my fake plastic friends.

The most absurd part was the disgusting, flirty texts from a few trust-fund frat boys throwing their weight around, heavily implying they could be my sugar daddies now. I let out a cold sneer and took screenshots of every single chat log. Then, without a second thought, I forwarded the whole pile of trash to Grant, who managed the family's business empire.

[ Cancel all business partnerships with the guys on this list. ]

Even though I was leaving, the family had treated me ridiculously well for the past year. I absolutely refused to let these total creeps ride the family's coattails and live comfortably.

[ Done. ]

His reply came almost instantly, followed by a photo. Underneath the picture was a single line:

[ Brought your babies home. When are you coming back? ]

I zoomed in on the picture. Grant had literally packed up my turtle, my fish, and all the overgrown plants from my cubicle, hauling them all back to the mansion. I snapped a photo of my boarding pass and texted it to him.

A few minutes later, the group chat named The Family Gossip Squad absolutely blew up.

[ Grant: Sloane's flight lands this afternoon. I'm locked in a meeting and can't leave. Who's free to pick her up? ]

[ Tristan: Our sister is coming back? Hell yes. I'm canceling my gig right now to go get her. ]

[ Handsome Dad: I'll pick her up. ]

[ Beautiful Mom: I'm going too. ]

I stared at the member count at the top of the screen. The number had bumped from a 5 to a 6. I tapped it open. The newest member's profile picture was just a shot of a starry night sky.

Her display name was a single, clean letter: C.

So my biological replacement, who I hadn't even met yet, had an edgy aesthetic. Cool! Totally fitting for the main character!

[ Professional Burnout: Don't bother picking me up. I'll just call an Uber. ]

The absolute second I hit send, another message popped up right under mine.

[ C: I have time too. ]

For two agonizing minutes, nobody typed a single word. The suffocating awkwardness was practically radiating out of the screen. In that moment, I cringed so hard my toes practically curled straight through the floorboards.

The moment I stepped off the plane and walked into the arrivals hall, I immediately spotted the incredibly flashy group standing near the exit. Standing right next to the familiar faces of the family was an impossibly tall, absolute knockout of a girl.

The family's genes were undeniably top-tier. Every single one of them looked like they stepped off a runway. And then there was me. Judging by both my face and my IQ, I clearly didn't belong with them.

I wasn't ugly by any stretch, but standing next to them, the gap was glaring.

When I first crossed over into this body, I had aggressively dropped hints that I might not be their biological kid. As for why I couldn't just come out and say it? I have no idea. Every time I tried, I literally choked on the words.

It was probably some sick joke from the original author's plot constraints.

Their response to my hints? They dragged out a dusty photograph of my great-grandfather and stared at me deadpan. "You probably just inherited your looks from your great-grandpa. It skips a generation."

I had stared at that black-and-white picture of a severely bald man, the silence ringing deafeningly in my ears.

Looking at Clara for the very first time, I felt a twinge of guilt, but I definitely didn't feel any shame. This entire messed-up circus wasn't my fault, and honestly, it wasn't my adoptive parents' fault either.

Chapter 5

My biological parents were honest, hardworking farmers their entire lives. Having a child in their middle age, they scraped together everything to deliver at the best hospital in the city.

Who could have predicted that my adoptive mother, who happened to be traveling in the same area, would go into labor on the exact same day, in the exact same hospital?

And as a twisted cherry on top, a ruthless corporate rival of the family managed to sneak in and swap the babies.

Clara might not have grown up with a bottomless trust fund, but my biological parents poured every ounce of their love into her, raising her with everything they had.

The whole truth only unraveled because Clara had brought them into the city for a doctor's appointment, crossed paths with my adoptive parents who were there for their annual physicals, and the rest was history.

Dad looked at me, his eyes full of concern. "Sloane, you must be exhausted. I bought you your favorite cake."

Calling him 'Dad' right now felt wrong, but calling him 'Mr. Zhao' would be a brutal slap in the face. I took the bakery box. "Thank you Dad."

His smile instantly froze, a tight stiffness setting into the corners of his mouth at my hesitant tone.

Mom immediately turned her head away, hastily wiping at the corner of her eye.

He awkwardly cleared his throat, gesturing to the side. "Sloane, this is your sister, Clara. Tristan couldn't easily come down to the arrivals hall, so he's waiting for you in the car. Clara, this is your sister, Sloane."

My brain short-circuited, and the words just tumbled out of my mouth. "Wait, I'm still the younger sister?"

All three of them froze, staring at me blankly.

I immediately pantomimed zipping my lips shut.

Clara gave me a calm, unbothered look. "According to the birth certificates, I was born exactly four minutes before you. So yes, you're still the younger sister."

I looked up at this absolute knockout of a sister who was easily half a head taller than me.

Fine, older sister it is. With her height, I definitely wasn't losing out on this deal.

I had half a mind to hug her. But her aura was way too intimidating. I chickened out and kept my hands to myself.

Just before dinner, I stepped foot into the mansion once again.

Chester's face completely lit up the second he saw me. He immediately started coordinating with Mildred for dinner.

"Miss Sloane is back! Wonderful! Mildred, start bringing out the dishes!"

Mildred's bright, cheerful voice echoed from the kitchen. "You got it! Serving right away!"

Mom practically dragged me upstairs to my old bedroom.

Pushing the door open, I realized they had completely refurnished it. It was identical to my old setupdown to the exact same vanity mirror sitting on the desk.

Mom looked at me, her eyes brimming with desperate hope. "I had it all set up for you again. This will always be your home."

A heavy knot formed in my stomach.

Panicking that I might misunderstand, she quickly grabbed my hand. "You don't need to worry about your sister. She's my biological flesh and blood; how could I not love her? We prepared a room for her too.

It's the suite on the third floor with the private terrace. We decorated it exactly to her tastes. Honestly, it's even bigger than yours."

As if terrified I wouldn't believe her, she pulled me up the stairs to the third floor to show me.

It was massive and minimalist. The heavy drapes and the silk bedding were all in cool, muted tones. It matched her icy, unbothered aesthetic perfectly.

Seeing all this just made the words I needed to say infinitely harder to choke out.

The reason I flew back wasn't just to pick up my turtle and fish. I also needed to formally renounce my share of the family trust fund and legally drop my surname. Since I had already decided to move out, there was no way I was going to squat on a fortune that didn't belong to me.

Better to cut the cord now, before I got weak and regretted it later.

Seriously, who could understand this pain? The billionaire lifestyle was literally waving at me, and I couldn't even touch it. I wanted to cry into a pillow.

Mom noticed my silence, her brow furrowing tightly. "Sloane are you really still insisting on moving out?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced my voice to stay level. "I'm not legally your daughter anymore. I've thought about it, and I really need to sign the papers to give up my share of the trust fund. You guys need to legally reinstate Clara as the primary heir and get her name on the trust as soon as possible."

Mom's lips trembled violently, and she broke down into quiet sobs. I wrapped my arms around her, patting her back gently. "I'm sorry. I really didn't want it to end up like this."

Chapter 6

The last few words came out as barely a whisper.

It really wasn't that I was ungrateful. It was just that a persistent alarm bell in my head kept screaming at me to run as far away from the main plot as possible. Otherwise, as a literal cannon fodder character written by some sadistic author, there was zero chance I could outsmart the creator. If I wanted to survive, I had to trigger my own damn side quest.

Otherwise, I was guaranteed to end up as a chalk outline.

I didn't believe it at first. But the second I even entertained the thought of tracking Clara down early, my luck completely tanked. Best case scenario, I caught a brutal flu. Worst case scenario, I almost got flattened by a delivery truck the second I stepped out the door.

It honestly felt like the author was just jerking me around. The main vibe was: I won't kill you off just yet. I'll just torture you for my own sick entertainment.

But now that the actual main character was back and the plot had officially kicked off I knew for a fact there were at least a hundred different gruesome ways for a disposable extra like me to die.

Seeing that my mind was completely made up, Dad's jaw tightened. He finally made a decision. "Chester, go with her tomorrow and get it sorted out."

Tristan shot out of his chair. "Dad, absolutely not!"

Right on cue, the heavy front doors slammed open with a deafening crash. Grant strode in. "I don't agree to this!" He immediately whipped his head toward Clara, who was sitting casually on the sofa, looking completely unbothered.

"Did you force Sloane out? What did she even do wrong? She grew up in this house. This is her home!"

Clara's brow twitched.

A massive red flag shot up in my brain. Before she could even open her mouth, I lunged forward, grabbing Grant's arm in a dramatic death grip. "Grant, please, let me go! I have zero interest in taking over a business empire. I just want to take my severance package and go be a useless bum in some remote town! I'm seriously not cut out for this billionaire lifestyle."

"My sleep schedule is a disaster, I have zero ambition, and honestly, I'm kind of an idiot. I always felt like something was off, and Clara showing up finally gave me the answer. Dad is a massive entrepreneur, Mom is a literal physicist, you run a global corporation, and Tristan is an A-list movie star. You guys are all ridiculously high achievers."

"It made no sense that I turned out to be such a massive failure. So, Claraan actual aerospace researcherbelonging here is the only thing that makes logical sense. Plus I haven't had a double-caramel Frappuccino in two whole days. I seriously feel like the sugar levels in my bloodstream are no longer high enough to sustain this elegant socialite disguise."

Clara narrowed her eyes at me. "How did you know what I do for a living?"

"" Crap. I got too excited and leaked the plot