Crippled By The Fake Heiress — And She Regretted It Chapter 05
Before she left, Gina shot me a look brimming with the victor’s taunt.
My birthday celebration ended in disaster. The whole family rushed me to the hospital.
When the doctor said I was fine, everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Then Gina sent me another string of messages.
[Did you see? He saved me first.]
[Even your own parents—just now—were calling out “daughter” to me. If you’re not completely stupid, you should get it by now.]
[Their feelings for me run so much deeper than anything they feel for you. After all, we’re the ones who lived together the longest. We’re the real family.]
[So tell me—who’s the pathetic one now?]
I didn’t respond. I just screenshotted everything and saved it.
That night, after they brought me home, the entire family went to Gina’s villa to look after her.
I went to the study and printed out every photo, every screenshot, every chat log I’d captured. Then I copied the hospital recording onto a USB drive.
This was the final gift I’d leave them before I disappeared.
By the next day, none of them had come home.
Alessio texted to say he and my parents were out shopping for memorial offerings. He told me to let the housekeeper look after me.
I laughed coldly, called the housekeeper over, and told him to box up everything Alessio had ever given me—and throw it all away.
Then I went back to the study. I took down the calligraphy piece Don Scarla had written for me by hand and tossed it into the fire pit.
It bore only two characters: [Health].
He’d written [Harmony Brings Prosperity] for Gina. For me, just [Health].
The irony was almost poetic—because the very man who’d stripped me of my health, who wanted me chair-bound for life, was the one who’d brushed those characters.
In a fury, I threw the scarf Donna had knitted me and the thermal leg warmers into the flames as well.
Along with every single family portrait we’d taken over the past ten years—all of it burned to ash.
Since I’d be leaving soon, I refused to leave behind a single trace of having lived in this house.
Watching everything in the fire pit turn to cinders, I made my final decision.
I went out to see the lawyer and handed over the printed materials.
I instructed him to file a lawsuit against Gina using this evidence the very next day. Even if it couldn’t get her convicted, I wanted the whole world to know she was alive—and that my family had been shielding her all along.
Then I logged onto social media and uploaded every image and audio file. I set them to auto-publish on a timer.
Finally, I replied to Gina’s message.
[Think I can’t make them drop you and come running back to me?]
She took the bait, just as I knew she would. Told me to sit tight—they absolutely wouldn’t be coming home today.
Shortly after, I got a call from my parents. They said there were more preparations to finish, that they’d be working through the night—told me not to wait up.
Perfect.
I hung up, mailed one final set of documents to the doctor my parents had hired, and then—clutching my plane ticket—slipped out of the house in the dead of night. The house I’d lived in for ten years.