After hanging up the phone, I looked around the hotel banquet hall filled with celebratory decorations, and a hint of irony flashed in my eyes.
The guests had all left, and both Timothy Lewis and Christopher Spencer still hadn’t returned.
I thought back to five years ago when my biological parents found me. The DNA results revealed that I was the daughter of a wealthy family in the capital, the Kingsley family.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. You’ve suffered so much all these years,” my biological mother, Beatrice Sinclair, said, her eyes soft with a touch of affection.
“We’ll make sure you become an outstanding heiress and give you a bright future,” said Dominic Kingsley, my biological father. “Would you like to return to the Kingsley family?”
I looked at the couple in front of me, and a complicated expression crossed my face.
I had grown up in an orphanage, but I never felt like I lacked love.
I had Timothy and Christopher, who had been by my side since childhood.
So, three years ago, I firmly rejected the idea of returning to the Kingsley family.
The high-society world was one where a person was never truly free, and I didn’t want to become a scheming, calculating heiress.
Even more so, I didn’t want to become a sacrificial pawn in an arranged marriage.
“Sweetheart, I know this is difficult for you,” Beatrice said softly. “We respect your choice, and we hope you’ll live happily.”
“Your grandfather made a promise with the Sanford family’s head many years ago, a betrothal agreement. If we ever had a daughter… I suppose it’s for the best,” Dominic said.
“Of course, if you want to come home, to be a part of our family and share in the responsibilities of our family’s legacy, the door will always be open to you.”
I had long considered Timothy, who had grown up alongside me in the orphanage, as my brother and my family. How could I abandon him?
Reluctantly, the Kingsley couple left. It was hard to blame them for their reluctance, as I was their flesh and blood.
