Chapter 3 The Return Of The Biological Daughter

When Janessa set her sights on Brayden, Lacey buried her own affection deep within, silently enduring Janessa's calculated smear campaign to secure his attention.

However, Janessa craved more than just Brayden's affection. She sought the title of the only daughter of the Whites, and in her relentless pursuit, she orchestrated Lacey's public humiliation. The scheme left Lacey a figure of mockery in high society, cast aside by the White family. Yet, Lacey never held a grudge against Janessa.

Even though Janessa succeeded in tearing down her reputation and leaving her with nothing, Lacey accepted the blow, swallowing her defeat. But she never imagined Janessa would go so far as to murder her.

The memories burned through Lacey like acid, her eyes blazing with newfound fury. Every betrayal by Janessa and the Whites, every cruel rejection from the family she had once called her own, crystallized into cold, calculating purpose.

She would no longer be deceived nor allow their cruelty to fade into the shadows. The balance had long been tipped; it was time to settle the score.

"Lacey, thank goodness you're awake," Elora Green, one of the White family's household staff, exclaimed as she entered, her surprise evident as she saw Lacey's eyes open. But as she moved closer, an unfamiliar tension hung in the air, and Elora felt a chill run down her spine from the intensity radiating off Lacey.

"Lacey..." Elora hesitated, her voice faltering as uncertainty gripped her.

Lacey noticed the unease in Elora's eyes, sensing the fear that had surfaced.

Elora, unlike the others, had always shown her kindness, remaining by her side even when the world seemed to turn its back. At that moment, Lacey's heart softened for the only person who had remained genuine in a sea of falsehoods.

Closing her eyes, Lacey fought to suppress the burning rage that threatened to consume her. She had to regain control to show the calm and gentleness Elora had always known. "Elora, where are Mom and Dad?" she asked quietly, her voice betraying none of the turmoil inside.

Elora, still unnerved by the overwhelming aura emanating from Lacey, tried to shake off the sensation, dismissing it as her imagination. She couldn't reconcile the idea that someone as warm and lighthearted as Lacey could hold any resentment. As she glanced at Lacey's frail form lying in the hospital bed, Elora's heart stirred with sympathy.

With a deep sigh, Elora reflected on Lacey's true identity. "Mr. and Mrs. White are dealing with urgent matters, but they'll come by as soon as they're finished," she explained softly.

Lacey knew that Elora wasn't being entirely honest.

Today marked Janessa's official return to the White family, a day for the family to come together and welcome her. How could the Whites be absent from such an important event?

When Lacey was hospitalized in her past life, her foster parents Rory White and Ivy rarely visited her. At the time, she had convinced herself their absence was due to their demanding work schedules. It was only when she left the hospital and got home that the harsh truth struck her like a thunderclap.

Her world was upended-shock, confusion, and anxiety flooded her heart. It was then that Janessa's manipulation began, pulling her strings and turning her into a mere puppet, easily controlled.

Lacey closed her eyes, fighting to keep her composure, and spoke softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Elora, I know everything now."

Elora, taken aback by the calmness in Lacey's voice, was stunned. "How did you discover the truth?"

Lacey exhaled, her tone calm, carefully composed. "Although I was unconscious these past few days, I could still hear fragments of conversation. I overheard the doctor mention that Mom's and Dad's blood types didn't match mine, and I caught their voices-filled with hesitation and suspicion."

Lacey carefully constructed the story, but in reality, she had been completely unaware of anything while unconscious.

"Lacey..." Elora faltered, struggling to find the right words.

Lacey's gaze hardened with quiet clarity. "Today must be the day that Mom and Dad's biological daughter returns, correct?"

In Lacey's eyes, there was a sharp, knowing gleam that made Elora realize there was no longer any point in hiding the truth. Lacey had already seen through the facade.

"Yes..." Elora responded, her voice soft and tinged with resignation.

Watching Lacey's eerily composed expression, Elora feared the emotional toll. "Whether you're related to the White family or not, my loyalty to you will never change."

Lacey's expression softened slightly, though her voice remained steady. "Elora, thank you."

She would not allow herself to sink into sadness. Four years had passed as she quietly reconciled with the fact that she was not the Whites' daughter. Her heart, once fragile and tender, had already been lost in her previous life, consumed by the tragedy of that car accident.

With resolve settling in, Lacey spoke again, her voice unwavering. "Please contact my mother and let her know I'm awake and fully aware of my true identity. I'm ready to go home."

Elora called Ivy, carefully relaying Lacey's words with precision. A long silence stretched on the other end of the line before Ivy responded, "Okay."

Inside the White family's mansion, the grand hall shone with opulence, every corner radiating with an almost ethereal beauty. The immaculate carpet, rich and soft, gleamed underfoot, free from even a trace of dust. World-renowned art pieces adorned the walls, their frames gleaming in the soft light that spilled from the chandeliers overhead. The light itself seemed to dance, casting a warm glow over everything, including the reserved girl below.

Janessa stood in stark contrast to the splendor surrounding her. Dressed in a simple white T-shirt and frayed jeans, she looked out of place in this world of wealth and refinement. Her feet were encased in cheap sneakers, bought by her foster mother at a local market, now caked in mud from her recent fall. She seemed like an anomaly, an outsider in a realm of polished perfection.

Ivy, on the other hand, sat gracefully on the elegant sofa, her posture upright, though her eyes were swollen. She radiated warmth and maternal affection. "Janessa, come here and sit beside me," she said softly.

Janessa hesitated, glancing at the plush sofa and then down at her dirt-streaked clothes. She took a step back, her head lowered in quiet humility. "I'm dirty," she murmured, the words heavy with self-consciousness.

Ivy's heart clenched as she saw Janessa standing there, so out of place, a stark contrast to the refined surroundings. Her thoughts turned to the information her assistant had uncovered about Janessa's past, and a wave of sorrow washed over her.

If not for the hospital's mistake, if fate hadn't intervened, how could her daughter, Janessa, have endured such hardship and lived such a humble existence for so many years?

Ivy stood and walked over to Janessa, gently taking her hand in hers. "It's just a sofa," she said with a soft smile, her voice filled with tenderness. "If it gets dirty, we can replace it easily. You are my daughter, and this is your home. There's no need for you to stand here, uncomfortable, in your own place."

Janessa stared blankly, her expression full of confusion and disbelief. "Is this really my home?"

Sensing her daughter's turmoil, Ivy spoke with unwavering conviction. "Yes, this is your home. I am your biological mother, and you are a White."

Slowly, Janessa sank onto the sofa, her mind spinning as she tried to grasp the enormity of what she was being told.

Her father, the man she thought was a fisherman with a scruffy beard, was actually Rory, a man of wealth and power. Her mother, whom she had long assumed to be a loud, unrefined woman, was Ivy-an elegant and graceful figure, someone she had never known.

Janessa's real home was nothing like the crumbling, rundown house where she had lived in constant fear of the roof collapsing. Instead, it was a mansion, grand and opulent, like something from a fairy tale, far removed from the meager existence she had known.

But before Janessa could fully absorb the magnitude of the revelation, a voice snapped her from her daze.

The maid approached, her voice soft yet clear. "Mrs. White, Miss White is back."

Janessa turned toward the door, her gaze drawn by the sound of the approaching footsteps.

Elora wheeled a chair into the room, and in it sat a young girl dressed in a simple white gown, her right leg bound in a thick plaster cast. The girl was nothing short of breathtaking.

Her skin was smooth and flawless, and her eyes sparkled with a clarity that could pierce through even the darkest shadows. Her nose, petite and perfectly shaped, complemented the full, cherry-red lips that curved into a subtle, natural grace. Every feature seemed carefully crafted, balanced, and exquisite.

Despite her modest attire and the weight of the cast on her leg, she radiated an undeniable grace. Her posture was regal, her presence commanding attention, and it was impossible to look away from her elegance.

For Janessa, this was the first time she had encountered someone so undeniably graceful, someone whose charm and dignity surpassed that of even the most celebrated stars in the entertainment industry.

Ivy's voice broke the silence, a touch colder than usual. "Ah, Lacey, you're back. There's something I need to discuss with you."

The realization hit Janessa with the force of a thunderclap. This girl-sitting before her, radiating nobility and charm-was none other than Lacey, the very person who had taken her place.

A deep, suffocating wave of envy, resentment, and loathing surged through Janessa. She clenched her fists tightly, her nails digging into her palms as she stared at the girl in front of her.

Lacey's grace and regal presence-those were all supposed to be hers. Janessa had been robbed of a life she thought was rightfully hers, and the sight of Lacey in her place only intensified the rage burning inside her.