Forced Out by the True Heiress

The wind chime at the entrance jingled three times, its clear sound echoing off the hallway walls before falling onto the back of my hand clenched around a dishcloth. My fingertips twisted the cloth into deep wrinkles, knuckles paling—I knew it was Luna Carter and Larry Xavier returning, along with the 'true daughter' they had searched for twelve years." The front door swung open, cold wind swirling in with fallen leaves. Larry Xavier walked ahead, his suit jacket dust-streaked; Luna Carter followed behind, holding a suitcase stamped with a luxury brand logo, a smile she couldn't hide playing across her face; The last girl to enter wore a pale pink dress, the hem embroidered with pearls. Her long hair was styled in voluminous curls, the sequins at the ends glittering dazzlingly under the light. "Why are the lights still on inside?" She spoke first, her voice soft as cotton candy, but her eyes swept over me like brushing off dust, landing on the dishcloth in my hands. The corner of her mouth lifted slightly. "Are there still strangers here?" Luna Carter immediately stepped forward, grabbing the girl's hand and pulling her toward the living room, her nails almost digging into the girl's wrist. "Mia, this is Nola Xavier. She's been living with our family for ten years. You don't need to pay her any mind." She passed by me without even looking up, her voice thick with indifference. I nodded and was just about to turn to put the dish towel into the kitchen drawer when Mia suddenly stopped, her high heels striking the floor with a sharp 'clack.' She turned and stared at me, sizing me up like an old piece of furniture. "Who are you? Since when did my parents let strangers live in our house? This is my home." "My name is Nola Xavier. I came to the Xavier Family when I was ten, and I've lived here for ten years now." I straightened up, my back pressed against the cold kitchen doorframe, trying to keep my voice steady. "It was Mr. Xavier and Ms. Carter who personally went to the orphanage to bring me here." Mia raised an eyebrow, walked over to the sofa and sat down, casually picking up an apple from the coffee table. Her nails left faint scratches on the skin as she said, "Ten years? My parents said back then they brought someone home from the orphanage to perform a lucky curse for my brother. So, it was you all along." She scoffed, tossing the apple back onto the fruit plate. "Too bad the lucky curse didn't take. Brother's been sick all this time. What use are you?" Footsteps thumped from upstairs as Hugo Xavier slowly descended, steadying himself on the wooden railing. He wore off-white loungewear, the collar loose and sagging. His complexion was as pale as ever, completely bloodless. After only a few steps, he let out a soft sigh, the back of his hand still marked with puncture wounds from an IV. "Mia, don't spout nonsense as soon as you get back." Hugo's voice was low but carried an unyielding seriousness. His gaze fixed on Mia's face. "The 'lucky curse' was just an excuse Mom and Dad used back then; it has nothing to do with Nola." Mia Xavier immediately stood up, her eyes instantly reddening, tears streaming down like broken strings of pearls. "Brother! How can you side with an outsider? I'm your real sister! I was kidnapped for twelve years, and now that I'm back, can't I even ask a single question? She's taken my room, my parents, and you're still protecting her!" "No one has taken your place." Hugo Xavier leaned on the railing and walked down the stairs, slowly coming to my side. His fingers gently tapped my arm — his palm cool but carrying a soothing warmth. "Nola has spent these past ten years preparing medicine for me every day, taking me to the hospital — she's no stranger." Larry Xavier tossed his briefcase onto the sofa and cleared his throat to break the silence: "Alright, alright, everyone sit down and eat. Mia just got back—don't let the mood get so tense." He pulled out a chair and sat down first. When his eyes briefly met mine, there was a faint, barely noticeable flicker of avoidance. I quietly took the seat at the far corner of the table. In front of me was a white porcelain plate holding only a small bowl of plain rice—not even a pair of serving chopsticks was set out. The sweet and sour ribs, squirrel-shaped mandarin fish, and crystal shrimp dumplings on the table were all dishes Luna had specifically asked Mia about yesterday as her 'favorite childhood foods.' The bamboo chopsticks in my hand felt as if they were weighed down with lead; no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't lift them, yet the tip of my nose tingled with sadness.