RichardAs soon as we were out of earshot of the receptionist, Tom spoke up. "Samson's right, you know," he said, his voice low and serious. "No one uses this level of membership card without being a millionaire." I shook my head, trying to brush off the feeling of dread that was growing inside me. "I paid for this membership, Tom. I have the receipt right here." Tom raised an eyebrow. "I hope you have it, because I don't think anyone's going to believe you.“I sighed and rubbed my temples, trying to think. Meanwhile, Samson's words echoed in my mind, refusing to fade away. "But- but you can't let him go in there," he had exclaimed, his voice laced with disbelief. The irony of it all hung heavy in the air, a bitter twist to the situation.Tom led me deeper into the mall, the receptionist's instructions to guide me through my shopping trip still ringing in my ears. As I moved through the crowded corridor of shoppers, I felt eyes on me. It felt like stepping into a battlefield, wi

And so, I found myself alone again, surrounded by the quiet luxury of the mall. The air was rich with the smell of expensive things; each shop was like a chest full of treasures waiting to be discovered. I wasn’t just there to buy clothes—I was there to shape how the world would see me, to craft an image as sleek and polished as the shiny floors I walked on.I began at the high-end boutiques, where the air was scented with a blend of leather and perfume. Attendants, dressed as immaculately as the mannequins, greeted me with practiced smiles, their eyes subtly appraising. I nodded at them, my mind already sifting through the racks of designer suits and limited-edition watches.The first purchase was a suit, tailored to perfection, the fabric a whisper against my skin. The price was a mere drop in the ocean of my budget, and I handed over my card with a nonchalance that belied the thrill of the transaction.Next, I strolled into the jewelry store, the twinkling display of diamonds and g

A heavy silence descended upon us, punctuated only by the soft rustle of fabric as he lowered his head. Edmund's eyes, once bright with the wisdom of years, now glistened with the onset of tears. They clung to his lashes like dew on the verge of falling, each one a silent testament to the pain of secrets held too long.“Richard,” he began, his voice trembling with emotion, “there are truths that have long been concealed, burdens that I can no longer bear alone.”I watched as tears welled in his eyes, glistening like liquid diamonds in the dim light of the room. And then, like a dam breaking, the floodgates opened, and he poured forth the secrets that had haunted him for years.“Your mother," he said, his voice quivering like a taut string ready to snap, "she was a maid in your father’s employ, a woman of humble origins who captured his heart with her gentle spirit and unwavering devotion.”I listened in stunned silence as Edmund unraveled the story of my origins, each revelation pierc

Mrs. White (Amelia’s grandmother)Bathed in the warm glow of the early afternoon sun that filtered through the curtains, I sat comfortably in my favorite chair in the cozy sitting room, enjoying the warmth of a hot cup of coffee cradled in my hands, while the TV murmured in the background. The room had a charming feel as always, with family photos hanging on the walls and soft blankets draped over the couch, and I had spent countless hours in this space, half-watching the news.Casually, I flipped through the TV channels, my gaze drifting over the flickering images without much interest. That was until a familiar face appeared on the screen, and I leaned forward, adjusting my spectacles to get a clearer view.“Richard Thorne, the long lost son of Business Mogul and Billionaire, Mr. Archibald Thorne," the headline blared, as if the very letters were mocking me. I choked on my coffee, the bitter liquid catching in my throat as I stared in disbelief. It couldn't be the same Richard, coul

Amelia’s POV The moment I stepped through the door, the weight of failure hung heavily on my shoulders. My family’s expectant eyes, wide and unblinking, followed my every move. I didn't need to look in their eyes to know; the air was thick with anticipation, their anxieties almost undeniable. The silence was broken only by the soft ticking of the grandfather clock, its pendulum swinging with the weight of the seconds that passed. A sorrowful exchange of glances danced between us, and with the fall of my gaze, their hearts sank.My grandma, Mrs. White, was the first to shatter the silence. “Well?" she demanded, her voice sharp as a knife's edge. “Amelia, darling, what happened?”I felt the collective breath of my family hitch as I hung my coat on the rack, my gaze lingering on the worn fabric, a silent testament to my defeat. My sad face must have betrayed the battle within.I swallowed hard, the words sticking like thorns in my throat. “Just like I told you, mother. He…he did not, an