Chapter 9
At the staircase landing, Valencia pushed open an ornately carved wooden door.
"Lucinda, look. This is your room."
Lucinda stepped inside, her gaze sharpening slightly.
The room was spacious. Floor-to-ceiling windows faced the artificial lake in the backyard. The setting sun's glow scattered across the water's surface, breaking into golden scales.
The curtains were a soft beige, their draping texture clearly custom-made by hand.
Near the window sat a desk topped with brand-new art supplies.
Paints, brushes, paper—each item from a top-tier brand.
An easel stood in the corner, with several framed paintings beside it.
Valencia walked to the easel and gently ran her hand over it. "I heard you like painting, so I had these prepared. I didn't know what brand of paint you prefer, so I bought a variety. This easel was custom-made—the height adjusts. You can use it sitting or standing."
Lucinda's gaze swept across the art supplies and settled on the wall.
A family portrait hung there.
Six people in the photo.
Wesley, Valencia, three young men, and... a girl.
The girl stood in the center, smiling brilliantly in a white dress, like a princess.
Valencia followed her line of sight, her smile faltering.
"That's..." She opened her mouth, uncertain how to continue.
Wesley stepped forward and put his arm around his wife's shoulders, his tone gentle. "Lucinda, there's something we want to be clear about."
He paused, then continued. "After you went missing, your mother cried until she nearly went blind. We searched for you for an entire year. Posted missing person notices everywhere. Tried every method we could think of. But we never heard anything about you."
Valencia's eyes reddened, her voice catching. "The year after, on your birthday, your father and I went to church to pray for you. On our way back, we found a baby girl at the doorstep. She'd been left in a basket, wrapped in a small blanket, her lips purple from the cold."
"We brought her inside, thinking maybe this was God's arrangement. Sending us a child on your birthday—perhaps it was His way of bringing you to us."
Valencia gripped Lucinda's hand, tears finally falling. "But in our hearts, we knew. She wasn't you. She never would be."
Wesley continued. "Her name is Dahlia Douglas. We adopted her. Over the years, we've raised her as our daughter. But Lucinda, you need to know—"
He looked into Lucinda's eyes, speaking each word deliberately. "You are our biological daughter. Dahlia won't take away a single bit of the love that belongs to you. This home will always be your home."
Lucinda looked at them. Her eyes showed little emotion.
She nodded. "I understand."
Her tone was neutral, revealing neither joy nor displeasure.
Valencia looked at her somewhat nervously, about to say something, when her phone lit up again.
A message popped up on screen—
[Mommy, I'm at the gate! Miss you so much!]
This time, Lucinda saw it too.
She withdrew her gaze and looked out the window.
At the estate entrance, a white Porsche was slowly driving in.
Inside the car, Dahlia gripped her phone, staring at the conversation thread with no reply, brow furrowing slightly.
Usually, when she sent messages, Mom replied instantly.
Today, why...
She recalled the news she'd heard at the gala earlier.
The family's biological daughter, who'd been lost for twenty years, was coming home today.
Dahlia's fingers tightened, nails digging into her palms.
Biological daughter.
She'd been the Douglas family's heiress for twenty years, and now suddenly there was an older sister?
Dahlia took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down.
What was there to fear?
She'd grown up in the Douglas family. Mom and Dad had doted on her for twenty years, giving her the best of everything.
That sister who just returned—so what if they shared blood?
They hadn't seen each other in twenty years. How much affection could there be?
Besides, having been outside for so long, who knew what bad habits she'd picked up?
Probably some country bumpkin who'd never seen the world, crude in behavior, rude in speech.
Compared to such a sister, she'd received elite education since childhood, excelling in manners and etiquette. As long as Mom and Dad weren't fools, they'd know who to favor.
Dahlia's lips curved up. She felt much better.
The car stopped in front of the main building. She pushed open the door and immediately saw Uma, the housekeeper, waiting at the entrance.
"Uma!" Dahlia called out with a smile. "I'm home!"
Uma came forward with a smile. "Lia's back! How was the gala?"
"Great!" Dahlia walked inside while eagerly asking, "Where's my sister? Has she arrived? Where is she?"
She pushed open the door, a smile still on her face.
In the living room, by the floor-to-ceiling windows, Valencia held a girl's hand, eyes red-rimmed, face full of heartache.
Wesley stood beside them, his gaze never leaving the girl, his eyes showing a tenderness Dahlia had never seen.
Valencia was peeling an orange for her, asking softly about something while peeling, her tone as gentle as if coaxing a child.
Dahlia stood frozen, a smile stuck on her face.
That girl sat in her favorite spot, wearing a plain white knit sweater—a style so simple it was almost shabby, completely out of place in this luxuriously opulent living room.
But the way her parents looked at her—
Dahlia had never seen them look at her like that.
She suddenly remembered a late night when she was seven.
She'd gotten up for water and passed her parents' bedroom. A strip of dim yellow light showed through the door crack.
Valencia's crying came from inside, suppressed and broken. "My daughter... she should be seven now... do you think she's still alive... is she cold, hungry..."
She'd stood outside the door, clutching her little pink water cup, not daring to move.
That was the first time she realized Mom and Dad still thought about that "sister" they'd never met.
After that, she learned to be obedient, learned to please people, and learned to mold herself into someone who most deserved this family.
Because only then would she not be discarded.
She'd spent twenty years in this family, called them Mom and Dad for twenty years, studied etiquette and rules for twenty years, and shaped herself into the heiress most worthy of this household.
But this woman had just returned one day and taken everything away.
Dahlia took a deep breath. The smile returned to her face. She walked over gracefully.
Valencia paused in peeling the orange and looked up to see her, smiling and waving. "Lia's home. Come quickly, meet your sister."
Sister.
Dahlia took a deep breath, a smile reappearing on her face as she walked over gracefully. "Hello." Her voice was sweet as honey. "I'm Dahlia. From now on, we're family."
She sat beside Lucinda and looked her up and down, a flash of smugness in her eyes.
That outfit, that demeanor—clearly someone who'd never seen the world.
"How was living there? Did your adoptive parents treat you well?" Dahlia's tone carried concern. "I heard the conditions there weren't great. You must have suffered a lot, right?"
Lucinda didn't respond. She simply looked at her.
"This is your first time in Starlight City, isn't it?" Dahlia continued. "Starlight City is huge, with lots of fun places. I'll take you out another day. Our Douglas family has some standing in Starlight City—we can go anywhere easily."
As she spoke, she reached out to link arms with Lucinda.
Lucinda's hand shifted slightly, dodging the gesture.
Dahlia's hand froze mid-air. Her smile faltered.
"Oh, right." She withdrew her hand, tone still sweet. "Which guest room did Mom and Dad arrange for you? Want me to help you check if you're missing anything?"
Valencia spoke. "Cindy's staying in the east room on the second floor."
Dahlia's smile completely froze.
East side, second floor.
That was the largest, best room in the entire estate, with the most sunlight. Open the window, and you could see the entire back garden and the artificial lake.
She'd asked Mom and Dad several times if she could move there. Each time, they'd refused.
Now they'd just given it to this woman who just came back?
She opened her mouth to say something when Wesley's voice sounded.
"Lia."
Dahlia turned to face her father's stern expression.
"You're tired from the gala today. Go rest."
Dahlia's face paled slightly.
She opened her mouth, wanting to argue, but saw the unquestionable look in her father's eyes.
"...Yes, Dad." She stood, forcing a smile and nodding to everyone before turning upstairs.
Lucinda's gaze rested lightly on the direction she'd left.
A dull thud came from the second floor.
Like something had been slammed hard against the floor.
Lucinda's lips curved slightly.
Interesting.