The Fake Heiress Humiliated The Wrong Girl

CAMILE’S POINT OF VIEW.

PATERNITY TEST: MATCH CONFIRMED.

My fingers trembled as I brought the small test result closer. There it was: Positive. The thing I’d secretly hoped was true ever since meeting Tristan and Audrey Hart one week ago at the small diner where I work.

“You are our daughter.” Audrey, mom, whispered, voice shaky, tears in her eyes, while Tristan, dad, nodded. “There is no doubt about it anymore.”

“I just…I can't believe it; I’ve searched for you guys since I turned sixteen.”

“I knew the second I looked at you in that diner last week; it felt like something jumped inside me.” I glanced at the birthmark on my wrist. Audrey’s palm covered it with a gentle sigh. “I remember when you got that mark; it was because one of the nurses got too careless with you. I was so scared, worried when I saw the blood.

But now, I used that to recognize you.”

“But…what about your other daughter?” I asked, watching as their entire faces shut down.

“She is not our daughter, Camile. You are.” Tristan, Dad, announced. “She’s paraded herself as our daughter for years now, playing on our intelligence ever since we released the search news on your sixth birthday.”

“That was the day I got kidnapped,” I whispered; a lone tear escaped my eyelids.

“One second you held my hand for dear life in church, and the next, you vanished. I’d never felt so lost. So hopeless other than that time.” After the kidnapping, all I remembered was waking up in an orphanage, two elderly nuns smiling down at me; I remembered nothing. However. At sixteen, I stumbled upon them while on cleaning duty.

Their words started my search;

‘You know you can never speak about her parents, or who she really is, Sister Martha!’ the unmistakable voice of Sister Anna snapped. I watched them from the small crack in the door. She leaned over the laundry, scrubbing the old bedding.

“I know, but sometimes my conscience haunts me, Anna.” Sister Martha whispered back. “We stole a child from her family, and now that family has been searching for her ever since then. I can't sleep at night knowing the child they’re looking for is right here.”

“If you can't sleep, use a sleeping pill, Martha.” Sister Anna dropped the bedding she scrubbed to face her fully, her face twisted with something angry. “You know we sent Linda in Camile’s place. She is about to turn nineteen, and she will finally inherit all that Hart family wealth. You know we did this because we’re tired of being nuns in this sick, horrible place.

We have waited for more than ten years now, Martha; don’t ruin this for me.”

“But…”

“No buts, Martha!” Sister Anna lifted a knife so quickly that Sister Martha jumped with a sharp gasp. “We are this close to getting everything we’ve ever wanted. All we need to do now is find a way to get that birthmark off Camile’s skin. Even if we need to slice it off her skin, I will get all that Hart money.

Not even you will stop me.”

“I-I understand…” She blinked with a shaky sigh, shoulders tense as she moved closer to the door.

“Call Camile in here; if I can convince her that birthmark is some cancer, maybe I can cut it out today.” I didn’t waste a moment.

With my bucket still in hand, I lifted my skirt and bolted as far away from there as possible. I was just sixteen, but I knew living on the streets would be better than living in that orphanage with a target on my back.

“You must have worked so hard, been so scared.” My mom brushed my hair back; tears escaped my eyes at her gentle touch. All the nuns at MoreWood orphanage were harsh, brutal. I had too many scars to hide because of them.

“I was.” I sniffled. “At first because I was sixteen and on the road, all alone…but that was until Uncle Riley found me. He took me in and gave me a job as a waitress. His wife is very kind.”

“Darling, we need to thank him properly.”

“Of course.” My father stepped closer to me, then took the other side so he sat close to me. “It’s because of him our baby girl is safe and alive… we will give him as much as he wants.” He pressed close to me, his touch warm and comforting, just like my mother’s.

At that second, a knock came at the door. “Come in.” Mom said; it felt so good to say that… Mom. At her gentle command, someone did walk in. Dressed in a butler’s uniform, he bowed to my parents, smiled at me, then said, “Mr and Mrs Hart, your daughter is almost home; the driver called.”

“That is not my daughter.” My mother got to her feet. “I want you to pack all her things, and kick her as far away from our house as possible.”

“Yes, Peter. We don’t want to see that thief and imposter anymore. She stole years of our daughter’s life, while she lived in comfort for years now. If we see her anywhere near here, I want her to get arrested.”

“Right away, sir.”

“No, wait!” I stopped him, an idea blooming in my mind. For years, this Linda has stolen everything owed to me, owned by me, because two nuns back at the orphanage wanted my inheritance. I wanted revenge, and there was one way to do it.

“What is it, dear?” My dad moved closer to me, gently brushing strands of hair from my face.

“Are you alright?” Mom added, “Peter, call the doctor. Maybe she’s too cold.”

“No, Mom.” I smiled, squeezing her hand gently. ‘I am perfectly fine. I just don’t want you to kick her out yet.”

“What? Why?”

“I want to go to that school, but on a scholarship. I'd like to expose her myself.”

“On a scholarship?!” my dad gasped. “What? Why? I already put a call through for your new driver and your new car; I got the one the internet says girls love most.

Was it a white Mercedes Benz G-wagon.”

“Dad, there is no need for that.”

“Maybe it’s the color?” Mom asked. “I can help you get it repainted? I already planned so many shopping trips; we can head to Milan by the weekend.”

‘No, mom and dad.” I stopped them gently. “I really do need to do this; trust me. If I can expose her in front of every single person she has tricked into believing she is the heiress she isn’t, it’ll be the perfect revenge for me while you catch Sister Anna and Sister Martha.”

“A-are you sure?” Mom winced, looking unsure. “We only want you to be comfortable, dear.”

“I know, Mom, and the fact that I already know you guys is more than enough to let me know how blessed I am. Now I need to teach the girl who stole all that a good lesson.”

“I think we should let her do it, honey,” Dad said to a still worried-looking mom.

“Tristan... are you sure?”

“We will never understand the sort of life she lived in that orphanage, but we can be sure it's enough for her to want revenge this way. We can kick Linda out later.”

“O-okay, if you two say so.”

“I will be fine, Mom.” I wrapped my arms around her and my dad. They pressed their cheeks close to mine; ‘As long as both of you are with me, I know I can do anything.”

“Always, my dear. I guess we can put a hold on that Bentley too; plus the trips we already planned. We will do it later; but first, we deal with Martha and Anna.” My mom added.

Linda, for every single second of my life you stole, I’m coming to get it back; I swear it.

The next morning, I rode a normal black bicycle, then stopped in front of the most prestigious private academy in the city. I hopped off it, took off my helmet, then dusted my hands around my clothes. I was wearing a brand-new uniform. For the first time in my life, I was dressed like I belonged somewhere I had spent eighteen years being kept away from.

I watched the students walking into the vast black gates, the luxury cars and bikes parked around. Girls laughed with their friends, and boys walked in expensive watches, cruising in the latest vehicles. I swallowed, nails digging into my palms as I brushed a strand of hair away from my face.

I clutched the strap of my bag, then took a long, deep breath. I glanced up at the words on the gate;

Hart Academy.

My new school, a school owned by my family for generations now. Somewhere inside those gates was the girl who had stolen my identity, and I would make sure she paid dearly for it.

I took one step forward after another, because I knew Linda Anderson was about to meet the real Camile Hart, and she was going to wish she had never.

I had barely crossed the academy gates when the sound of an expensive engine made me and everyone turn. It came from behind me. I flipped around to find angry eyes directed at me. She honked her horn three times, her face twisted into a bitchy look as she yelled;

“Move your cheap bike off the road! Don’t you see I’m trying to drive in?”

I couldn’t move, however, because I recognized her instantly. The girl who’d stolen my life, my name, my identity rolled her eyes hard before she honked again.

“Are you fucking deaf, bitch?” She snarled. “I said move! Or I’ll run you over, plus your cheap bike.” I glanced at my bike; Uncle Riley had gifted it to me at eighteen.

‘You work very hard, C; you deserve it.’ his diner was struggling terribly; however, he took money he couldn’t afford to get it for me.

“Didn’t you hear her, scholarship brat?” A girl stepped over; three others flanked her. They each glared at me, popping their chewing gum. “When Camile tells you to move, you move.”

“C-Camile?” I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped me.

“Yes. Camile Hart, or do you think you’re better than her?”

Before I could respond, the powerful engine of the Mercedes-Benz my father got for me revved once. Then she drove it so quickly, I had to jump out of the way to avoid getting run over. My bike, however, wasn’t so lucky. I heard her car door slam shut; all I could stare at was my bike, now broken in two.

“Look what you did!” The words barely left my lips before I felt it. My head whipped to the side; my cheek stung when the sound of a harsh smack echoed through the parking lot of the Hart Academy.

“I said, move, scholarship brat.”

I lifted my head, shifted my hair to the side, before I finally looked at her. Other students had gathered around as well, watching the scene with a smile.

‘Serves the scholarship brat right. These people need to know our schools aren’t fit for their kind.”

‘Yeah. Didn’t we ask headmistress Tori to stop admitting them? They don’t belong here.”

I couldn’t find any words; I was too busy looking at her. She was beautiful: long, curly, glossy blonde hair, perfect makeup caked on her face. Dressed in a perfectly tailored academy uniform, the right fit for the supposed daughter of the Hart family, she swirled a strand of her hair around her index finger.

A designer handbag hung from one arm, and a diamond necklace with the initials C.H. adorned her neck. “Go on; I’m waiting for that apology.” She said, boredom rolling off her. “I’m not sure I’ll forgive you, though. You see, my father is really protective of me; I am his only daughter. If I tell him what you did to me, your parents will be kicked out of work, and you will be gone with them.

So get on your knees, beg me, and I might listen to you.”

“I said, you spoilt my bike.” I glanced at it, the same time she did. Her lips twisted with something disgusting;

“This cheap-looking thing?” She let out a sigh. ‘I guess we need to do something for the less privileged.” She glanced at the students hovering around her;

“Yes, Camile. Just help the bitch so we can go plan our outfits for the Homecoming dance!”

“Yes.” She reached into her designer handbag, still with her initials on it. No, my initials. She pulled out a cheque book and a pen; scribbled something on it, then she asked, voice still dripping with boredom. “Who did I make this to?”

‘Yeah, scholarship brat.” The girl from before taunted. “What is your name? Sure it’s something boring and unknown. Maybe Smith?” She snickered.

“Hart, Camile Hart.”

I watched the color drain from her face. Her scribbling hand stopped before she shot a glare at me. Her eyes bulged as she whispered, “W-what did you say your n-name is?”

“Hart. My name is Camile Hart.”