The Cinderella They Sold Was a Billionaire's Heiress

At home, I was the free maid and the money machine.

My grandfather's funeral had barely ended when the whole family swooped in and took the eight hundred thousand dollars he'd left me.

On top of that, my parents wanted to sell me off to a divorced man for a marriage payment so they could buy my brother an apartment, and they wanted me to hand my boyfriend over to my younger sister.

I couldn't understand it. Why did my family treat me this way?

It wasn't until my sister let it slip that I finally learned the truth behind everything.

I worked overtime until nine at night, and I'd just dragged myself home, drained.

My brother Morris Pruitt was already yelling at me. "Sis, that graphics card I told you about last time, when are you going to buy it for me?"

"All my friends have upgraded theirs. I'm the only one stuck with an old one. It's humiliating."

I answered flatly, "My paycheck last month just went to rent. I don't have much left."

My mother's face soured. "Rent for what? Is there no room for you in this house?"

"You make eight thousand a month. A thousand for pocket money is plenty. I'll hold on to the rest for you, so you'll have a dowry when you get married someday."

"Did you transfer the seven thousand I told you to send last time? Don't you dare stash money away!"

I couldn't stop myself. "A thousand isn't even enough for my meals and commute"

Before I could finish, she cut in, impatient. "There's food at home, you won't starve. And how much can a commute cost? Can't you just take a bike share?"

I almost laughed from sheer anger.

Since the day I started working, when had this family ever left food out for me?

My office was dozens of miles from home. How long would it take to get there on a bike share?

That was exactly why I'd chosen to rent a place near work.

If my parents hadn't called today and told me to come back, I'd already be lying in bed at my rental, resting.

Seeing that I didn't respond, my mother's face turned ugly, and she snapped, "Your brother's almost old enough to marry. He needs money for everything. What's wrong with his older sister chipping in?"

"We raised you all these years. Do you know how much of our money that cost?"

"Why can't you learn a little gratitude, feel for us a little?"

All these years, it had always been like this.

My brother's and sister's wants were matters of life and death. My needs made me ungrateful, a nitpicker.

Because I was the eldest daughter, I could only give. I was never allowed to ask for anything back.

Years of swallowed grievance had pushed me to my limit.

And in the very moment I was about to break, my phone suddenly rang. It was the aide caring for my grandfather at the hospital.

Grandpa wouldn't last much longer!

A shudder went through me, and I ran for the hospital as fast as I could.

Three days later, the memorial was set up at the old family home, with relatives coming and going in a steady stream.

I knelt before the coffin, burning paper offerings, unable to stop crying.

Grandpa was the only one in this family who truly cared about me. When I was little and my parents beat me or screamed at me, it was Grandpa who slipped me pocket money on the side and took me to the little place at the end of the alley for dumpling soup.

The funeral had just finished, the relatives hadn't fully cleared out, when my parents pulled me into a side room and shut the door behind us.

My mother stared straight at my bag, greedy. "Before your grandfather passed, did he leave you something?"

I shook my head.

My father's face went dark. "Impossible!"

"He loved you most. He definitely gave all his money to you."

"Hand it over now. That kind of money isn't safe in your hands."

Eyes red, I kept shaking my head.

My mother rushed forward in a single step and dug through my bag, dumping my wallet, phone, and keys onto the table.

When she reached the innermost pocket, she pulled out a bank card, and her eyes lit up at once.

She held the card up, thrilled. "Your grandfather gave you this card, didn't he? How much is on it?"

Grandpa had secretly pressed this card into my hand the week before. He said there was eight hundred thousand on it, and I should keep it for myself, a cushion for hard times, and not let my parents find out.

I'd planned to check the balance after the funeral was over. I never imagined they'd be this desperate.

I reached out to grab it back, hurried. "Grandpa left that for me. You can't take it."

My mother sneered. "Yours?"

"We gave birth to you. Your money is this family's money!"

"We're buying your brother a riverside condo, and we're still eight hundred thousand short on the down payment. This covers it perfectly."

I was shaking with rage. "Why should I?"

"This is what Grandpa left me!"

My mother planted her hands on her hips and shouted, "Because I'm your mother, that's why!"

"By law, everything your grandfather left belongs to me. What makes you think any of it is yours?"

"After all the years I raised you, fed you, clothed you, and now you want to fall out with us over a little money?"

"Your brother is the one who carries on this family. Without a place of his own he'll never get a wife. Can you take responsibility for that?"

Cicely Pruitt put on her sweet, coaxing voice. "Carrie, just give it to him."

"Mom and Dad had it hard raising us. You should think about them a little!"

"Besides, you're about to marry Tom Fox. His family's loaded. A little money like this means nothing to them."

My father chimed in too. "Tom's family is well off. Once you marry in you'll live the good life. Helping your family out is the least you can do."

"That money, you're handing it over today. Whether you want to or not."

I gritted my teeth. "I won't."

My father's hand cracked across my face. "You've got some nerve!"

The slap landed hard. My cheek burned, and the corner of my mouth split open.

Tears welled up, and I forced them back down.

So this was what family meant.

To them I had never been a daughter, never a sister. Just a tool they could squeeze whenever they needed something.

I drew a slow breath and said in a low voice, "Take the card if you want. But I'm the only one who knows the PIN, and you'd better not push me."

That one line pushed them over the edge.

They locked me in the house. They took my phone and my ID.

They were afraid I'd quietly move the money, afraid I'd run to Tom and tell him everything.

That night my mother brought in a plate of food and coaxed me with fake concern. "Carrie, just listen to your mother and tell us the PIN. We're one family. Why make it ugly like this?"

I answered coldly. "Give me back my card and let me out."

Her brow knotted and she snapped, "Why do you have to be so stubborn!"

"Let me be straight with you. You remember the Walter family's son?"

"The one who runs the building-supply plant. He's divorced, sure, but he's got money, and he's willing to pay three hundred and eighty thousand in bride price to marry you."

"Your father and I talked it over. We think it's a fine match..."

My head snapped up. "You're going to sell me?"

My mother looked annoyed. "Sell? Don't make it sound so awful!"

"They're a respectable family. Marry in and you'd be the boss's wife. More people want that than you'd believe. Don't be so ungrateful."

I burst out, "I'm not marrying him. I already have a boyfriend!"

She sniffed. "Tom's a good catch, but you're not good enough for him."

"Cicely likes Tom too. She's the one who's a real match for him."

"You're the older sister. Would it kill you to give a little to your sister?"

It hit me like a bolt of lightning. I shook all over, my lips trembling, no words coming out.

Seeing me silent, she took it as agreement, gave a satisfied grunt, and turned and walked out.

The next afternoon Cicely came in carrying a glass of milk, her face full of put-on concern. "Carrie, eat something. What if you make yourself sick?"

I ignored her.

She sat on the edge of my bed and rattled on. "Mom and Dad really do want what's best for you. Sure, Walter's divorced, but he's rich!"

"And once you're married off, Grandpa's old house can be transferred to our brother, and my dowry can come out of it too..."

She'd said too much, and clapped a hand over her mouth.

I said coldly, "So you had it all planned out?"

"Take my money, take my fianc, and take the old house Grandpa left me too?"

Cicely's mouth curled before she could stop it. "Well, you're the older sister, aren't you? Contributing to this family is only right."

"Besides, it's not like Mom and Dad are your real parents..."

She cut herself off mid-sentence, then shot up in a panic. "I didn't say anything!"

She spun around and ran, leaving me sitting alone on the bed, my head roaring.

Cicely's words tore through my mind like a thunderclap.

Every moment from all my years growing up flashed past me at once.

Mom and Dad always taking my brother and sister's side, always giving me the hardest work, always stingiest with me, never willing to buy me even a single new piece of clothing...

So it was never that I wasn't good enough. It was that I was never their child at all.

No. I couldn't just sit here and wait for it to happen.

I had to get out. I had to find out the truth about where I came from.

On the morning of the third day, when Zoey came in with my food, I made myself look weak on purpose, leaning against the headboard and speaking faintly. "Mom, I've thought it over."

"I'll marry him. And I'll give you the PIN."

"But you have to let me take a shower and change into something clean. I can't go meet him looking filthy, can I?"

Zoey's face lit up the moment she heard it. "See, if you'd just done this from the start, none of this would've happened!"

"Fine. I'll get you some clothes. You wash up, and I'll stand guard at the door."

Sure enough, she let her guard down. She opened the bedroom door, handed me a change of clothes, and actually took up her post right outside the bathroom.

I went in and locked the door behind me.

The window was an old-style slider. There was a security grille over it, but the lowest bar had gone loose from years of neglect. I'd noticed it working itself free back when I was cleaning.

I gritted my teeth and threw all my strength into wrenching that bar. The skin on my palms broke into blisters, but in the end I pried it loose.

I climbed out through the window and slid down the drainpipe running along the outer wall.

I twisted my ankle on the landing. The pain sent cold sweat pouring off me, but I didn't dare stop. I got up and ran.

Behind me came Zoey's shrill scream. "Carina's run off! After her, quick!"

I didn't look back. I ran for my life.

Before he died, Wallace had told me that if I ever ran into trouble, I should go to the Righteous Sky Law Firm on Southgate Avenue and find Lawyer Chavez.

By the time I limped to the law firm, it was already noon.

Lawyer Chavez was a man in his fifties, in gold wire-rimmed glasses, with a refined air about him.

When he saw the state I was in, he quickly had his assistant pour me some warm water, then found a first-aid kit and cleaned the cuts on my hands and knees.

He took out a thick document envelope, pushed it across to me, and said quietly, "This has your grandfather's will inside, along with some other things."

"He told me that if you ever came to me, I was to hand all of it over to you."

I drew a deep breath and opened the envelope.

The will was on top, stamped by the notary office.

All holdings under the name of Wallace Lawrenceeight hundred thousand in savings, one downtown storefront, and one residence in the old part of slated for demolition, with compensation estimated at two millionare to be inherited solely by my granddaughter Carina Pruitt, to the exclusion of any other person.

Behind it was a thick stack of bank transfer records. Starting twenty-two years ago, on the fifteenth of every month, a sum of fifteen thousand had gone from my grandfather's account into Zoey's.

There were extra gifts for holidays and festivals, and tuition, medical bills, and school uniform fees were all reimbursed separately, entry by entry, every one of them clear. Even the cost of my textbooks in elementary school was on record.

I did a rough tally. Over twenty-two years, it came to more than three million.

I looked at Lawyer Chavez, my voice shaking. "This is..."

He let out a sigh. "This is the child support your grandfather paid for you."

"Carina, your mother, Maggie Lawrence, was Mr. Lawrence's eldest daughter."

"Twenty-two years ago, she got pregnant out of wedlock. When she gave birth to you, she hemorrhaged during a difficult labor, and they couldn't save her."

"Mr. Lawrence was afraid you'd suffer being raised by an old man on his own, so he entrusted you to his second daughter, Zoeythe woman you now call your mother."

"He and Zoey agreed on fifteen thousand a month for your support, to cover your food, clothing, housing, and schooling, with any large expenses reimbursed on top of that."

It was like being struck by lightning. My mind went blank.

So it was true. I wasn't Zoey and Stuart's child at all.

Zoey was my aunt. Stuart was my uncle by marriage.

They hadn't raised me out of kindness. They'd done it because every month they were collecting my grandfather's money.

For twenty-two years, they'd taken the support he gave and fed me leftovers, made me do the chores, and spent it all on Morris and Cicely.

They kept going on about how much money they'd spent raising me, but the truth was they hadn't paid a cent. They'd made a fortune off raising me instead.

"What about my real father?" I asked, my voice rough.

Lawyer Chavez shook his head. "Old Mr. Lawrence searched for years. He never found him."

"All he knew was that the man's surname was Gilbert. Back then he'd come here for the building-materials business, then went back down South, and after that they lost contact."

I looked at that thick stack of transfer records, and the tears I'd been holding back finally spilled over.

Not from grief. From how absurd it all was.

Laughing at myself for being such a fool.

Twenty-two years. Twenty-two years I'd lived inside the belief that my parents just didn't love me, and turned it into hating myself.

I'd tried so hard to be good, worked myself ragged, earned every dollar I could, all to buy one word of approval from them.

But it turned out I was never their child at all.

They'd taken my grandfather's money, raised their own kids on it, and told themselves they had every right to treat me as a free maid and a walking bank account.

I wiped my eyes and said through my teeth, "Lawyer Chavez, I want you to take my case."

From today on, I would no longer be the soft target anyone could squeeze.

Everything they owed me, I'd take back, piece by piece, all of it.

When I walked back into the Pruitt house with Lawyer Chavez, Zoey and the others were sitting in the living room in the middle of a fight.

Zoey slapped her thigh and wailed, "This is all your fault! You just had to lock her up, and now she's gone and the money's gone with her!"

Stuart smoked his cigarette, his face twisted with irritation. "What are you crying for? The monk can run, but the temple can't. She'll be back."

"When she comes back, see if I don't break her legs."

Off to one side Morris hurled the remote down and snapped, "What about my apartment? What about my down payment?"

"Carina, that little bitch, actually had the nerve to run!"

Cicely, meanwhile, wore a worried look. "Do you think she went to find Tom?"

"If she goes crying to Tom, he's going to think badly of me for sure"

Cicely didn't get to finish. I stepped back inside.

They saw me and froze for a second, then their faces lit up with pure glee.

Zoey rushed at me first, hand already reaching for my hair, spitting curses. "You've got some nerve, coming back!"

"Where did you run off to? Did you go crying to Tom? I'm telling you, it won't do you any good!"

"Tom belongs to your sister. The only one you get to marry is"

Before she could finish, Lawyer Chavez stepped in front of her, blocking her, and said gravely, "Ma'am, show some respect."

"I'm Miss Pruitt's attorney. If you lay a hand on her, we'll call the police immediately."

Zoey stalled, then went off at me like a woman having a fit. "What do you need a lawyer for? What, you think you're going to sue us?"

"I'm your mother. If you dare sue us, that makes you an ungrateful child"

Lawyer Chavez cut her off again, his voice cold. "You're not her mother."

"According to the paternity test and other documents Old Mr. Lawrence left behind, Miss Pruitt is the daughter of Ms. Maggie Lawrence. Which makes her your niece."

"You are only Miss Pruitt's aunt. You are not her legal guardian."