Chapter 4

I left the house on edge, watching all their faces the whole way there.

This family of thousand-year-old foxes played their parts without a single crack showing.

Wanda led me into the ballroom, and a handful of lavishly dressed society women drifted over.

"Mrs. Harding, so this is your family's long-lost real daughter?"

"She doesn't look like a lady of good breeding at all. Did the village pigpen soak the smell right into her?"

"Exactly. She's a bit too plain, isn't she."

I stood off to the side and said nothing, curious to see what Wanda would do.

As it happened, Wanda said nothing either. She only smiled, letting the remarks stand.

Seeing that, I shook her hand off, planted my hands on my hips, and walked over to those old women. I looked them up and down, then shook my head in distaste.

"Grandma, so this is what old age smells like? The perfume's gone sour on top of it."

One of the old women clenched her fist, itching to slap me. "Who are you calling grandma? You ill-bred country girl."

I lifted my index finger and wagged it. "Wrong. Not ill-bred. Born but never raised."

The moment I said it, Wanda, who had planned to enjoy the show, went stiff and livid, and still had to play the gracious, virtuous mother.

"Crystal, what nonsense are you talking? Mom's right here."

"Hm? Oh, you're here. You'd been so quiet, I thought you were dead."

As I spoke I watched Wanda's face. She was clearly furious past the point of holding it in, and yet she squeezed out a smile.

So fake.

Meanwhile Dorothy was following Norman around, toasting the various New York elite bigwigs.

In Norman's eyes, the poised, well-mannered Dorothy was his real daughter.

As for me... just blood. Take it or leave it.

I couldn't be bothered with these people either. I picked up a glass of champagne and stood to the side, my eyes fixed on the clock.

Ten more minutes, and the college admissions results would be announced.

But for some reason my heart was up in my throat now, the feeling that something bad was about to happen.

Norman stepped up onto the stage, his face full of pride.

"I'm delighted you could all be here for my daughter's college-celebration gala. Ten minutes to the results, and I'm just as nervous as the rest of you. But I still want to say to my daughter: don't be afraid. Daddy will always believe in you!"

I took a small sip of champagne, a smile at the corner of my mouth.

One listen and you knew that couldn't be meant for me.

It was just... Dorothy, that delicate, sickly thing who spent three of every five school days asleep, what good college could she possibly get into? Was she really worth Norman going to all this trouble to throw a gala for?

"I hear the Fox family produced a daughter who got into an Ivy League university. Wonder if it's the real one or the fake one."

"Do you even have to ask? Even if it's the fake one, she was polished up with cold hard cash. It's got to be her."

"Right. You didn't see how crude that so-called real daughter was just now. If she could get into an Ivy League, I'd donate a hundred million on the spot."

"Forget a hundred million. A country girl getting into an Ivy? Pigs would fly first."

Everyone stood there waiting to laugh at me, and I acted as if I hadn't heard a word.

I watched the screen. One minute left, so tense I hardly dared to breathe.

I kept repeating to myself: it'll be fine, I worked so long for this, it'll be fine!

Up on the stage Norman was beaming, and it made my skin crawl.

"I invite you all to witness with me exactly which school my daughter is going to!"