I was born and switched by the housekeeper. She stuffed me in the servants’ quarters, claiming I was a servant’s illegitimate daughter. She placed her own daughter in the gold-trimmed crib, making her the envied true heiress everyone adored. For three years, I watched her wear princess dresses, drink imported formula, and be cherished by Mom and Dad. While I slept on the floor and ate leftovers. That night, the housekeeper got drunk and let something slip—she said even my name was randomly chosen. I heard every word crystal clear. That very night, while everyone slept, I crawled into the master bedroom. In the crib, the fake heiress slept soundly. I climbed up, aimed at her, and raised my foot. A dull sound of a body hitting the carpet. Then came Aria’s heart-wrenching cries. Every light in the villa blazed on instantly. I heard chaotic footsteps thundering down the hallway. Dad—James Reed, Mom—Grace Hartley, and the housekeeper Victoria Hayes. They burst in together. The scene before them froze them all in place. Me, Juniper Reed, the servant’s illegitimate daughter in their eyes, lying peacefully in the crib meant for the Reed family’s true daughter. While their treasured daughter, Aria, lay on the cold carpet, crying so hard she could barely breathe. “Aria!” Mom Grace was the first to react, screaming as she rushed over to scoop up Aria. James’s face turned ashen, his gaze stabbing toward me like a knife. The housekeeper Victoria’s face drained of all color in an instant. She knew better than anyone what this meant. “Aria, my baby, where did you get hurt? Let Mommy see.” Grace held Aria, tears streaming down her face with heartbreak. Aria’s little face was streaked with tears as she pointed her finger at me. “It was her! She pushed me!” Her words were garbled but the meaning was unmistakable. All eyes focused on me again. James’s gaze grew even colder. “What happened?” His voice simmered with fury. Victoria’s body trembled like a leaf in the wind. She rushed forward and yanked me from the soft crib. Her grip was strong, squeezing my bones painfully. “I’m so sorry, sir. I’m so sorry, ma’am.” “This is my fault. I didn’t watch this wretched child closely enough.” “She must have been sleepwalking and wandered up here on her own.” She spoke while digging her nails into my arm, her eyes full of warning. I endured the pain. I said nothing, only staring at this couple—my parents in name only—with dark, grape-like eyes. My gaze was filled with timidity and fear. Like a frightened little animal. This was my act. Over three years, I’d learned exactly how to disguise myself to survive. Grace’s attention remained entirely on Aria, not even glancing at me. But James was scrutinizing me. His brow furrowed tightly. Perhaps he was wondering how a three-year-old child could run from the servants’ quarters to the master bedroom and climb into such a high crib. “Sleepwalking?” He repeated the word, skepticism lacing his tone. Victoria’s cold sweat immediately broke out. “Yes, sir.” “The child has had this problem since she was little.” “I’ll take her away right now, lock her up, and never let her disturb Miss Aria again.” As she spoke, she started dragging me away. I sneered inwardly. Lock me up? In her dreams. My goal tonight wasn’t just to kick Aria. I needed to stay. Stay close to them. So I started trembling. My thin body shook violently, teeth chattering. I looked at James, my eyes filled with extreme terror, as if I’d seen something horrible. Then I burst into tears. Crying even more pitifully than Aria on the floor. My sobs came fast and frightened, carrying an indescribable sense of grievance. “It wasn’t me… it wasn’t me…” I cried while speaking in broken phrases. “There was… there was a bad person…” “A bad person in black clothes. He carried me up here.” “He tried to take my sister too. I was scared, so I pushed him away…” My words were jumbled. But the core message was clear. A stranger had broken in. James’s expression changed instantly. He wasn’t concerned about me—he was worried about the Reed family’s security. “What did you say? Someone in black?” He demanded sharply. His voice made me flinch, and I cried even harder. Victoria froze. She hadn’t expected me to fabricate such a lie. She wanted to contradict me but didn’t dare. Because if she said there was no intruder, how would she explain my presence here? Could she admit she got drunk and let something slip, and I overheard? She didn’t dare gamble. “Sir, this child is talking nonsense!” She could only deny it stubbornly. “How could a stranger possibly get into the house?” James ignored her. His sharp gaze swept around the bedroom. The windows were shut tight, the door locked. It didn’t look like anyone had broken in. His eyes returned to me, filled with scrutiny and impatience. “Enough. Stop crying.” Grace had finally calmed Aria down. She held her daughter, looking at me with disgust. “A servant’s child only knows how to lie. Like mother, like daughter.” “Victoria, take her away immediately. Just looking at her irritates me.” Victoria felt as if she’d received a pardon. She immediately grabbed my arm, wanting to drag me out of this dangerous place. I knew this was my last chance. Once she took me back to the servants’ quarters, even crueler torture awaited me. I couldn’t leave. Just as Victoria started pulling me, I used all my strength to break free from her grip. I dropped to my knees. Not kneeling toward Victoria, nor toward Grace. I knelt toward James. The absolute authority in this household. I lifted my head, face covered in tears, looking up at him. My eyes no longer held only fear. There was also a trace of attachment and dependence. “Daddy… Juniper is scared…” I called out timidly. That single word “Daddy” made the entire room fall deathly silent. Everyone froze. Including myself. Wait, I hadn’t meant to call him Daddy. I’d intended to say “sir.” But this three-year-old body seemed to have instincts of its own. Under extreme fear and desperate need for protection, it called out the deepest name in its heart. James’s body went rigid. He looked down at me. At my gaunt little face, at my dark grape-like eyes. I saw an extremely complex emotion flash through his cold gaze. Shock, confusion, and a trace of… emotion he himself hadn’t even noticed. Victoria’s face had turned white as paper.
Deathly silence. The air seemed to solidify. Grace held Aria, her frown deepening. “What did she call you?” She asked James, her tone full of disbelief and revulsion. “A servant’s bastard child dares to call you daddy?” Victoria’s soul nearly left her body. She dropped to her knees. “Sir, ma’am, I’m so sorry!” “This child has problems in her head. She babbles nonsense all the time. I’ll go back and discipline her properly!” She kowtowed repeatedly while reaching out to cover my mouth. I shrank back, dodging her. I remained kneeling, still looking up at James. I said nothing, only staring at him stubbornly with those eyes so similar to Grace’s. My gaze said: I didn’t call the wrong person. James’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He didn’t immediately fly into a rage, nor did he have Victoria take me away. He just stared at my face for a long time. So long that even Grace grew impatient. “James, what are you standing there for? Have Victoria get her out of here!” “Aria’s been frightened.” Aria in her arms cooperatively started sobbing again. “Daddy, I’m scared. She’s so dirty.” Aria’s voice pulled James from his thoughts. The trace of emotion in his eyes vanished instantly, replaced by his usual coldness. “Victoria, take her downstairs.” He spoke flatly. “Yes, sir.” Victoria breathed a sigh of relief, quickly getting up and grabbing me like a chicken. This time, I didn’t resist. Because I knew my goal was half-accomplished. The seed of doubt had been planted in his heart. I’d caught that momentary exchange of glances. A man who dominated the business world wouldn’t be easily swayed by emotions, but he absolutely trusted his own eyes and judgment. My face was the strongest evidence. Victoria dragged me out of the master bedroom at a quick pace. Behind us, Grace’s voice comforting Aria drifted over. “Aria, don’t be afraid. Mommy will make her leave our house tomorrow, okay?” “Okay!” Aria immediately stopped crying. Victoria’s steps faltered. My heart sank slightly too. Leave this house? That wouldn’t do. On the way back to the servants’ quarters, the long corridor was silent. Victoria said nothing, but her grip on my arm grew tighter and tighter. I knew a beating awaited me. Sure enough, as soon as we entered that dark, damp little room, she locked the door behind us. Then she turned around, her face no longer showing the earlier fear—only viciousness and malice. “You little bitch!” She slapped me across the face. A burning pain. The blow sent me stumbling and falling to the floor. “Who told you to run out there? Who told you to talk nonsense?” Still unsatisfied, she raised her foot and kicked me. I curled up, using my arms to protect my head. Over three years, I’d learned this was the most effective way to protect myself. I was used to this pain. Compared to hunger and endless cold, physical suffering was actually the easiest to endure. “Did you hear something?” After a few kicks, she seemed tired and stopped, panting as she questioned me. I lay on the floor, saying nothing. “I’m talking to you!” She grabbed my hair and yanked me up from the floor. My scalp felt like it was tearing. I was forced to lift my head and look at her twisted face. “I’m warning you, Juniper.” “From now on, if you dare run around or talk nonsense again, I’ll break your legs and cut out your tongue!” “You remember this—I’m your mother! That Aria is the true Miss Reed!” “You’re just an unwanted bastard, fit only to serve my daughter like a slave for life!” She said viciously. I looked at her, my gaze calm. No tears, no begging for mercy. My calmness seemed to enrage her further. “You dare glare at me?” She raised her hand to hit me again. Just then, a knock came at the door. “Mrs. Hayes, are you in there?” It was a young maid’s voice. Victoria’s movement froze. Her expression changed. “What is it?” She asked impatiently. “Sir wants to see you.” The maid said from outside. Victoria’s pupils constricted sharply. Sir? Why would sir want to see her this late? An ominous premonition settled over her. She released my hair and threw me hard onto the floor. “You stay right here and don’t go anywhere!” She warned me in a low voice, then walked over to open the door. The maid outside saw her and paused. “Mrs. Hayes, your face…” “It’s nothing. I just bumped into something.” Victoria explained vaguely, straightening her clothes and hair. “Where is sir?” “In the study.” “Alright, I’ll go right away.” Victoria closed the door and locked it from the outside. I heard her footsteps hurrying away. The room returned to darkness and silence. I climbed up from the cold floor mat and walked to the door. I pressed my ear against it but heard nothing. But I knew James must have grown suspicious because of my “daddy” call earlier. He wanted to verify. And Victoria was his first step in verification. A cold smile curved my lips. Did Victoria think locking me up would solve everything? Too naive. This tiny servants’ room couldn’t hold me. I walked to the window and skillfully moved a small stool over. The window had no lock, just a simple latch. I stood on my toes and struggled to push it open. Then I opened the window and took a deep breath of the cool night air. Jumping down would hurt a bit. But that was fine. I knew tonight’s show was just beginning. I had to see it with my own eyes.
The study light was on. James sat behind the massive mahogany desk, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the surface. Before him sat a cup of coffee, now cold. He hadn’t drunk it. His thoughts were chaotic. In his mind, the scene of that child crying and calling him “daddy” kept replaying. And those eyes. Those eyes almost identical to Grace’s. Three years ago, the day the child was born, he’d been abroad negotiating an important contract. By the time he returned, the child had already been born for several days. Grace was weak after childbirth, so he hadn’t thought much of it. Household matters had always been Victoria’s domain. Victoria was Grace’s distant relative who’d been with the family since Grace married into the Reed household. They trusted her absolutely. So he’d never questioned his own daughter. But tonight, that child called Juniper was like a pebble dropped into his calm lake, stirring up ripples. Would a three-year-old child have that kind of gaze? It wasn’t just fear—there was a calmness and stubbornness beyond her years. Too strange. A knock interrupted his thoughts. “Come in.” Victoria pushed the door open, head lowered, expression respectful yet tinged with unease. “Sir, you wanted to see me?” “Sit.” James pointed to the chair opposite. Victoria seemed flattered, sitting down carefully. “That child is called Juniper?” James got straight to the point. “Yes, sir.” Victoria’s heart leapt to her throat. “Who is her father?” James stared into her eyes. Victoria’s gaze flickered. “I… I don’t know.” “She was an abandoned baby I found at my hometown doorstep. I felt sorry for her, so I kept her with me.” This lie she’d prepared long ago. Seamless. James said nothing, just watching her. His gaze seemed to pierce through to the soul. Victoria felt her scalp crawl under his stare, cold sweat pouring down. “How many years have you been with Grace?” James suddenly changed the question. “Almost ten years, sir.” “Ten years.” James nodded. “Grace trusts you very much.” “Ma’am’s kindness to me is as heavy as a mountain.” Victoria quickly pledged loyalty. “So three years ago when Grace gave birth, you handled everything at the hospital, inside and out.” James said casually. Victoria’s heart skipped a beat. What did he mean? Was he suspecting something? “This… this was part of my duties.” Her voice was dry. “I remember you said at the time that when the child was born, she had a red birthmark on her ankle.” James continued. Victoria’s face turned deathly pale in an instant. The birthmark! How could she have forgotten about this! Back then, to make the Reed couple believe Aria was their daughter, she’d deliberately fabricated this birthmark lie. Because Aria did have a red birthmark on her ankle. But the real Reed daughter had no birthmark at all! “Yes… yes, sir.” “Miss Aria does have a plum-blossom-shaped birthmark on her ankle.” She could only bite the bullet and confirm. “Mm.” James acknowledged, not continuing that topic. He picked up the cold coffee and took a sip. “Alright, you may go.” “Remember, control your daughter. Don’t let her run around scaring Aria.” His tone was bland, revealing no emotion. Yet Victoria felt like she’d just walked through death’s door. “Yes, sir. I’ll remember.” She quickly stood, bowing as she backed out. Not until she left the study and closed the door did she realize her back was completely drenched in cold sweat. Too close. Fortunately, sir didn’t continue questioning. She breathed a long sigh of relief and hurried toward the servants’ quarters. She had to get back and properly discipline that damned Juniper. All this trouble was caused by that little bitch! In the study, James set down his coffee cup. He opened a drawer and took out a photograph. It was Grace’s one-month-old baby photo. In the picture, the infant was plump and fair with bright, dark eyes. Almost identical to that child called Juniper tonight. Another thought occurred to him. Grace’s family had a very distinctive hereditary trait. Severe mango allergy. Yet his daughter Aria loved eating mangoes most of all. Before, he’d simply thought the child didn’t take after her mother. But now, thinking back, this detail seemed suspicious everywhere. A bold thought so absurd even he found it ridiculous rose in his mind. Could it be… He picked up the phone on the desk and dialed a number. “Hello, Leo, it’s me.” “I need you to handle something.” “First thing tomorrow morning, send your most reliable person to my house.” “Collect two samples for a paternity test.” “One from Aria, the other…” He paused, the image of that thin yet stubborn little face floating through his mind. “…from Victoria’s daughter, Juniper.” “Remember, this matter is absolutely confidential.” After hanging up, James leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He hoped he was overthinking. At that moment, in a large tree outside the window. I was hiding behind the dense leaves, taking in everything in the study. Though I couldn’t hear what they were saying. I saw James’s expression. Saw his contemplation when he took out the photograph. And most importantly, saw his serious, resolute expression when he made that final call. I knew my plan had succeeded. He was wavering. Next, I just needed to add more fuel to the fire. Let this spark of doubt burn into a raging inferno. I slid down from the tree silently, agile as a cat. I didn’t return to the servants’ quarters. Victoria was definitely furious now—going back would be walking into a trap. I was going somewhere else. A place where I could make the fire burn even hotter. Grace Hartley’s room.
Grace hadn’t gone to sleep yet. She sat at her vanity, gently stroking Aria’s hair. Aria had been frightened today and insisted on sleeping with her. At this moment, the little girl had fallen asleep, her small face still showing traces of distress. Grace sighed. She thought again about tonight’s events. That child called Juniper, that dirty little face, and that timid call of “daddy.” Honestly, the first moment she saw that child, she felt something strange. Not entirely disgust. There was also a trace of inexplicable… closeness. Especially when she knelt on the floor looking up with those eyes so similar to her own, Grace’s heart had actually stabbed with pain. How could this be? She must be going crazy. That was just a servant’s child. A crude, ill-mannered bastard who’d even learned to lie. Grace shook her head, trying to shake off these absurd thoughts. Just then, she heard a faint, suppressed whimpering. The sound came from the balcony. She paused. This late at night, who was outside? She stood and quietly walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, pulling back a corner of the curtain. In the moonlight, a small, thin figure was curled up in the corner of the balcony. It was Juniper. She hugged her knees, head buried in her arms, small shoulders shaking. She was crying. Crying so sadly, so helplessly, yet not daring to make too much noise. As if afraid of disturbing others, or perhaps afraid of being discovered in her vulnerability. Grace’s heart felt like something squeezed it hard. Pain. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. This afternoon she’d hated this child so much. But now, seeing her cry alone in the cold night wind, she actually felt some compassion. As if possessed, she opened the balcony door. “It’s so late. What are you doing here?” Her voice came out softer than she’d expected. Hearing the voice, my body jerked violently. I slowly raised my head, seeing her, my eyes immediately filling with panic. I quickly scrambled up from the floor, standing there at a loss, like a child caught doing something wrong. “I’m… I’m sorry, ma’am.” “I… I didn’t mean to.” My voice carried a thick nasal tone, hoarse and pitiful. “I… I didn’t dare go back.” “Mrs…. Mrs. Hayes said she’d break my legs.” As I spoke, tears fell again. Grace’s brow furrowed. “She was going to hit you?” “Yes.” I nodded, instinctively touching my swollen, reddened cheek. In the moonlight, that clear handprint was especially prominent. Grace’s gaze fell on my face, her eyes narrowing. She reached out as if to touch it, but stopped mid-air. She seemed to find me dirty. I saw her hesitation. I sneered inwardly but looked even more pitiful outwardly. I lowered my head, saying softly, “It’s okay, ma’am. It doesn’t hurt.” “Mrs. Hayes said I was disobedient, that I made Miss Aria angry, so I deserved it.” “As long as… as long as you don’t send me away, being hit is fine.” “I don’t want to go to an orphanage.” “I heard from other servants that children in orphanages don’t get enough food and get bullied.” Each of my sentences was like a needle, pricking Grace’s heart. She’d grown up privileged, never witnessing such a scene in her life. A three-year-old child actually begging not to be sent away, willing to endure beatings. What kind of desperation was this? For the first time, she felt a trace of dissatisfaction toward Victoria. Even if it was a servant’s child, surely she couldn’t abuse her like this? “You… come inside first. It’s cold outside.” After a long silence, she finally spoke. I froze, as if not believing my ears. I looked up at her, eyes full of flattered gratitude. “Thank you, ma’am.” I carefully walked into the room, standing awkwardly at the carpet’s edge, not daring to step forward. I kept my head down, not daring to look at her or any of the luxurious furnishings in the room. I acted exactly like a child from the slums who’d accidentally wandered into a palace. Inferior, yet tinged with curiosity. Seeing me like this, the dissatisfaction in Grace’s heart turned to pity. “You’re called… Juniper?” She asked. “Yes.” “Who gave you that name?” “Mrs. Hayes.” I said, “She told me I was found under a grapefruit tree.” Grace fell silent. She looked at me, then at Aria sleeping sweetly on the bed. One randomly picked up under a grapefruit tree. One cherished like a precious pearl amid endless love. How unfair fate was. Just then, I suddenly caught a sweet fragrance. It came from a plate of cut mangoes on the nightstand. Left as a bedtime snack for Aria. My eyes immediately locked onto that plate of mangoes. Then my face showed an expression of extreme terror. I began backing away uncontrollably, my body starting to tremble. “No… don’t…” I cried out in alarm. “Don’t eat that… eating it will… will kill you…” My reaction was intense. As if I’d seen some deadly poison. Grace was startled. “What’s wrong with you?” She asked, confused. “That… that thing is poisonous!” I pointed at the mango, voice trembling. “I… I saw it before. A kid in my village ate this and got red spots all over, then… then died.” I fabricated a lie full of ignorance and fear that fit my background identity. Grace froze. Mango? Poisonous? Of course she knew mangoes weren’t poisonous. But she also knew that everyone in the Hartley family was allergic to mangoes. Mild cases broke out in rashes, severe cases… could indeed be fatal. This was a hereditary family secret. Except for the closest family members, outsiders couldn’t possibly know. But this child before her… Why would she have such a strong reaction to mangoes? Could it be… A thought Grace herself found absurd—just like James—sprouted in her heart. She looked at me, eyes full of shock and disbelief. Then she looked at the “daughter” on the bed who loved eating mangoes. A thought screamed frantically in her mind. Could this one actually be my daughter? Then who is that one on the bed?
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