The Real Heiress Strikes Back

1: 1

During the wedding, right as we were exchanging rings,

my own brother came bursting in with the fake heiress in his arms, her face bloodless, announcing that her PTSD had flared up

and that Clive Delgado, my psychologist fianc, had to step in and treat her at once.

I was just about to open my mouth to stop him when a string of comments floated past my eyes.

*The fake heiress's PTSD got better ages ago. She made a bet with someone that she'd wreck this wedding, and if she wins she gets a limited-edition Chanel bag.*

*Clive isn't doing therapy at all. Every "session" is him and the fake heiress sleeping together.*

*Warning! The second Ivy Henson dares to interfere, Joyce Henson will pretend she's been pushed over the edge and run out, then stage a car crash and fake her own death. The whole Henson family will fly into a rage and team up to lock Ivy in a psychiatric hospital, where she'll be abused until she dies.*

Everyone was crowded around the fake heiress. Not one of them spared a glance for me, the bride still standing at the altar.

I quietly swallowed the objection on my lips, cold rising in my eyes.

Since you all want a thrill on my wedding day,

then I'll give you a thrill you won't forget.

Clive dropped the wedding ring in his hand at once and carefully took Joyce into his arms.

I only frowned, and my brother Luke Henson shoved me, hard.

The champagne tower behind me toppled over, spilling all over me, leaving me a mess.

"Ivy, haven't you caused enough trouble? If you hadn't come back to steal everything that's Joyce's, why would her illness have relapsed?"

"In my heart, Joyce is my only sister. If anything happens to her, I will never forgive you."

My mother came striding over on her heels, looking at Joyce with worry.

When she turned to me, her face was hard as stone.

"Joyce's PTSD comes and goes, and the doctor said she can't take any more shocks. You keep pushing and pushing. Are you trying to drive her to her death?"

My father wore a look of pure displeasure.

"You wretch. Don't you understand that a life is at stake?"

"A wedding is just a formality. Are you really going to stand there and watch something happen to Joyce? You have no heart at all!"

I stood in the middle of the shattered glass, cold all over.

I hadn't said a single thing, and my whole family had lined up, one and all, tripping over themselves to blame me for making a scene.

The last thread of family feeling in my heart dissolved completely.

*The real heiress is so pitiful. Not one person in that whole family actually cares about her.*

*Big scoop: the brother has known for years that Joyce isn't his real sister, and he's had a crush on her the whole time. No wonder he's biased beyond belief.*

*Back then the real heiress was the one who got taken by the traffickers, all because she saved Luke, and she suffered out there for eighteen years, only to end up like this. What a waste.*

*If you ask me, that mother's blind too. Joyce isn't any orphan. She's the illegitimate daughter of her husband and his childhood-sweetheart first love.*

Something shifted in my chest, and all the hurt and resentment and unwillingness got pressed back down.

If what the comments said was true, then this was going to be quite the show.

A flicker of smugness crossed Joyce's eyes as she dabbed at her dry lashes.

"Ivy, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come."

"I know you blame me for taking your place, but I can't help being sick. Maybe I should just leave the Henson family after all."

Clive was instantly soothing her, aching for her.

"Don't talk nonsense. You're just ill. You can't control your emotions. No one blames you."

When he turned to me, his eyes were full of cold contempt and disgust.

"Ivy, don't you know how Joyce ended up like this?"

When we were kids, my brother took me out to play and a trafficker set his sights on us.

I bit down on the trafficker's leg and wouldn't let go, saving him at the risk of my own life.

But I was the one dragged off into the deep mountains, where I endured eighteen years of inhuman torment.

Working the fields and feeding pigs day after day, going hungry, freezing, reading other people's faces, just scraping by to survive.

Three years ago the Hensons found me and brought me back.

That very night, Joyce slit her wrists and ended up in the hospital.

She cried and said she'd stolen my whole life, that she couldn't face me, that she'd be better off dead.

From that day on, I became the Hensons' vicious, narrow-minded real heiress who couldn't stand to share.

They never once asked how much I'd suffered in those eighteen years.

All they cared about was whether Joyce might feel wronged.

Even today, on my wedding day, the most important day of my life.

Joyce only pressed a hand to her chest and frowned, and every one of them was frantic over her.

"Ivy, I know you've looked forward to this wedding for a long time."

"But Joyce's condition can't wait. Her mental state is extremely unstable, and no one but me can calm her down. A wedding can be postponed, it can be held again, but a life can't be put on hold."

"Be reasonable. Let me treat her first."

I looked at the guests who'd come to the wedding and forced down the emotions churning inside me.

"There are countless psychologists out there. Even your own mentor still has openings."

"Why does it have to be you who treats her?"

"If you're the only one who can save her, then fine. I'll give her the bride's place."

2: 2

The whole room went silent.

My mother was the first to recover.

"Ivy, what nonsense are you spouting?"

"Clive is Joyce's personal therapist. For three years he's been the one managing her condition. No one understands her health better than he does."

"No one else can steady her the way he can, so of course his treatment works best."

Her fingers dug hard into my arm.

"With all these guests here today, you want to ruin Joyce's reputation? What exactly are you after?"

Before I could get a word in, my brother exploded.

He'd been quietly in love with Joyce for years, and the last thing he could stand was hearing her tied to another man.

To him, what I'd just said had defiled the goddess in his heart.

Jealousy and fury churned in Luke's eyes.

"Joyce is sweet and kind and asks nothing of anyone. Why do you have to attack her at every turn?"

"You're this vicious, no wonder you got kidnapped for eighteen years. You must have done nothing good in a past life to deserve it."

Deserve it.

So in my own brother's eyes, being taken because I saved him, suffering for eighteen years, meant nothing. No guilt at all. He thought I'd brought it on myself.

*Luke's obsession with Joyce has driven him insane. He's erased the person who saved his life. Disgusting!*

*Run, girl! This whole family are ghouls.*

My chest closed up. I couldn't bear another second there.

Joyce covered her face, her shoulders trembling, her voice choked.

"Ivy, I'm begging you, please stop."

"From the day you came back, I've been stepping aside on my own."

"Everything in the Henson family, Mom and Dad's love, I wanted to give it all back to you. I never once thought of fighting you for anything."

Her eyes swam with tears, fragile enough to shatter at a touch.

"The only reason I stayed on in the Henson house with no shame, forced myself to keep living, was that I couldn't bear to hurt Mom, Dad, and Luke."

"There has never been anything between Clive and me. Not one improper thing, ever."

"Ivy, what did I ever do to you? Why would you slander me like this?"

In a few sentences, Joyce cast herself as the poor, dutiful girl who swallowed her pride and endured everything.

And I became the aggressive, small-minded villain.

My father, who had always doted on his daughter, kicked over the life-size wedding cutout of me.

"Ivy, if I'd known you'd come back and bully Joyce at every turn, leaving her no peace day after day, I never would have spent the money to find you. I should have left you to rot in that dirt-poor mountain village!"

The room erupted.

Guests murmured among themselves, their eyes on me full of strangeness and scorn.

Clive held Joyce against him, his brow tight, his voice cold.

"Ivy, apologize to Joyce right now."

"Apologize to her publicly for your filthy accusations, in front of everyone!"

My heart was dead water. "I wasn't wrong. Why should I apologize?"

Clive's eyes turned colder still.

"If you won't apologize, then I'll have to reconsider this wedding."

"The Delgado family will never marry a young wife who is this vicious, who slanders others as she pleases."

Luke leaned close to my ear.

"Ivy, don't be so shameless when you're given a chance."

"Think hard about that senile grandmother of yours in the care home."

"Refuse to apologize today, and I'll call the care home this instant and have her thrown out on the street!"

I froze where I stood.

Eighteen years adrift, kidnapped into a poor mountain village, worn down by every kind of cruelty.

It was that blind, kindhearted old woman who took me in.

She scrimped and starved herself, gave everything to keep me safe, stayed with me through the darkest years of my life.

Now Granny had dementia, and the Henson family had placed her in a care home.

I could endure everyone's favoritism and betrayal. The one thing I couldn't do was let it fall on Granny.

I clenched my fists until they hurt, and the pride and stubbornness in my heart were crushed, inch by inch.

"I'm sorry. I misunderstood all of you."

3: 3

That one apology drained everything I had left.

Seeing me give in, a flicker of triumph crossed Joyce's eyes.

She put on her generous, kindhearted act and stepped forward to take my arm.

"It's all right, Ivy. I don't blame you"

Before her hand even touched me, she let out a little cry and crumpled to the floor.

Her eyes reddened, and tears spilled down her cheeks.

"Ivy, I really do want us to get along. Why can't you just make room for me?"

Clive shoved me hard.

I lost my balance, and my palm came down full-force onto the broken glass scattered across the floor.

Blood welled up at once, staining the white gown red.

But no one so much as glanced at me.

My parents, my own brotherall of them rushed to Joyce on the floor, faces tight with worry.

"Joyce, are you okay? Did the fall hurt you?"

"Don't be upset. Ivy's the one who doesn't know when she's well off."

"Stop crying now, your health comes first!"

My mother, beside herself, raised her hand and swung at me without a second's hesitation.

My blood-soaked hand caught her wrist and held it, a mocking smile tugging at my lips.

"I didn't push her. Why won't any of you believe me?"

"You can all stop performing for me. This weddingI'm not going through with it."

"And your Henson family, I'm not going back to either."

"An apology like thatis that sincere enough for you?"

I was tired. And I was done, for good.

I would take Granny back to our little mountain village and look after the only person who ever loved me.

My parents' faces changed in an instant, full of shock and disbelief.

They were so used to my groveling, my swallowed pride, my giving way, that it had never once crossed their minds I would cut it all off myself.

Clive looked down at my bleeding hands, and something flickered in his eyesreluctance, and a trace of panic.

Seeing everyone hesitate, Joyce tore herself out of the family's arms.

Clutching her chest, sobbing wildly, she ran like a madwoman toward the rooftop.

"I'm just a burden. From start to finish, I've only ever been a burden."

"If Ivy can't stand to have me around, then I might as well die!"

A gasp went through the guests, and they all surged up after her to the roof.

"Ivy is so cruelthere's a life at stake and she's still nursing a grudge over her wedding!"

"Exactly. What's so wrong with letting her fianc treat her?"

"Poor Joyce. Being the fake heiress already put her in such an awkward spot, and now she's been driven to a dead end and the only way out is death."

The floating comments told a completely different story, spilling everything.

Classic sob-story ploy. Joyce has run this act eight hundred times in three years, and someone falls for it every single time!

Joyce made a bet with her girlfriend that she could steal Ivy's fianc right in front of everyone. The prize is the newest Chanel baga limited edition you can't buy no matter how much money you've got.

To win a bet, she'll even stage a jump off a roof. You have to hand it to her, she's committed!

I watched the theatrical woman up on the roof with cold eyes, and felt nothing at all.

Clive's face went pale as he shouted up at Joyce, standing at the edge.

The panic and doting in his voice were things I had never once been given.

"Joyce, don't do anything rash. Come down and I'll start your intervention therapy right away."

"Just come down, and whatever you want, I'll give it to you!"

Luke slapped me across the face, and my ears rang.

"Are you satisfied now? If anything happens to Joyce, I'll make you pay with your life."

My mother clung to me, begging through her tears.

"Ivy, just let Clive treat Joyce, I'm begging you."

"If Joyce dies, I won't be able to go on living either."

Every ounce of the terror and tenderness in her eyes was for Joyce.

I looked at her steadily, and all that was left in my chest was cold.

Suddenly I found myself wondering how she would react if she knew the truth.

My father was frantic with rage.

"Clive, hurry, go calm Joyce down and treat her."

"You're so good at this, it'll only take you a few minutes to steady her."

The floating comments exploded across the screen.

A few minutes? Dream on. With Clive's skill it'd take a good two hours at least.

Treatment my foot. He's using the chance for a private tryst, cheating in broad daylight.

This family's double standards and favoritism go all the way to the bone. It makes your blood boil to watch.

4: 4

Clive pulled Joyce into his arms.

Without a second's hesitation, he carried her straight up to the hotel's top-floor luxury suite.

"Intervention therapy has to be handled with extreme care. It must never be cut off partway."

"Until we come out, no one is allowed in to interrupt."

Luke nodded and ordered the security guards to stand watch at the door.

Down in the hall, the guests cracked salted snacks and settled in to wait for the therapy to finish.

The press cameras were all pointed at me, and clips were already spreading online.

#Rich-family drama: groom abandons his bride at the wedding to treat another woman's psychological illness#

#The real heiress versus the fake onewho actually wins?#

Seeing me stay quiet, my mother dredged up the thin scrap of mother-daughter feeling she had.

"If you'd learned to behave earlier, none of this would have happened."

"Joyce is sensitive. We've spoiled her for eighteen years, and she can't take the slightest bit of hurt."

"You just came back. You're stubborn, you don't know how things work, and you should be giving way to her."

"When she comes down, go apologize on your own and smooth things over."

"A family keeps the peace. Face matters more than your little moods."

Whatever faint sympathy I'd had for her drained away as I looked at her.

"Mrs. Henson, if the same thing ever happened to you, would you keep the peace too?"

Luke jumped in, glaring at me with open displeasure.

"Of course. That's how the Hensons have always been. Joyce matters more than anything."

My father nodded in agreement.

"I raised Joyce for eighteen years. That bond runs deep. Even as my own flesh and blood, you have no right to push her down."

"Don't sit there with that sour face and embarrass the Hensons."

I said nothing, but the floating comments were losing their minds.

Why isn't Ivy making a scene? Is she planning something?

Waiting for the reversalcome on, wreck these freaks!

Using a bathroom trip as cover, I dialed the police.

If they wanted things exciting, I'd throw more fuel on the fire and make the next act far more exciting.

Back at the wedding.

Ten minutes.

Half an hour.

The minutes ticked by, and still there was no sign of movement upstairs.

Some of the guests were getting restless.

My mother couldn't sit still, glancing up at the elevator again and again.

"Why is it taking so long for them to come down?"

My father's face was tight, his voice edgy.

"Clive's skill wouldn't be this slow."

Dying. The top-floor suite's gone darkis it R-rated up there?

Snuck a peek. Clive's got real stamina.

Two hours minimum. And that's putting it modestly.

The comments streamed by fast, and then the hotel doors burst open.

A squad of officers charged in, body cameras in hand.

"We've received a public report of illegal activity on this hotel's top floor."

"Cooperate with the inspection immediately. We're checking every room!"

The reporters' eyes lit up, cameras snapping like mad.

Luke called Clive at once, only to get a powered-off tone.

My mother pressed forward with a placating smile.

"It's a misunderstanding, all a misunderstanding!"

"Upstairs is my daughter getting treatment. There's nothing illegal going on."

My father backed her up.

"That's right, psychological treatment. Stopping partway would only make it worse. Please, give us some leeway and don't disturb the patient!"

The officer's face was cold and set.

"No conduct stands above the law."

"Anyone who obstructs law enforcement will be charged with interfering with official duties!"

The three of them froze in place, faces uglier by the second.

Hahaha the heroine plays it so wellkilling with a borrowed knife, genius.

Her shining moment's comingwaiting for the cheating to get caught on camera!

I covered my mouth, letting just the right amount of terror show.

"Oh my God"

"They haven't opened the door or answered their phones this whole time. What if they've been taken by criminals?"

One line, and it hit everyone's worst fear.

"Right, something must have happened. Why else would both their phones be off?"

Sweat beaded on my father's forehead.

"Quick, get the spare key card, open the door!"

Luke rushed straight to the front desk.

The instant the door swiped open, the officers broke in.

Right behind them came dozens of cameras and phones, recording the whole thing live.

The next second, the scene inside was laid bare for everyone.

On the wide custom bed, the sheets were a tangled mess.

The bed was still shaking, the sight of it unspeakable.

Clive and Joyce were in the thick of it.