An Orphan Pretending To Be My Heiress Daughter

I wrapped up my Paris acquisition early and flew back home without telling a soul. My plan was to go straight to my daughter's engagement banquet and give her a surprise. Instead, standing right outside the grand ballroom, I stared at the bride's name on the gilded welcome sign: Jane Prescott. Behind me, guests from the groom's side were chuckling among themselves. "Now that is a real heiress of the Prescott family." "Unlike that girl Elinor. She's just an orphan living off the Prescott family's charity, yet she had the nerve to crash the event and claim the family wanted to call off the engagement. What a complete joke!" "Jane has such a gentle heart. Anyone else would have kicked Elinor out on the street days ago." Elinor was my daughter. Jane was merely the orphan my family foundation sponsored. Yet somehow, the entire groom's side believed Jane was the true Prescott heiress, while my actual daughter was treated like a shameless gold-digger trying to climb the social ladder. I pulled out my phone and dialed my board secretary's private number. "Run a check for me immediately," I said, my voice dangerously calm. "I want to know who stole my daughter's identity and her engagement while I was in Paris." 1 The entire penthouse ballroom at The Grand Carlton had been booked out by the Mercer family. Champagne towers, archways of fresh orchids, a dedicated press gallery, and reserved tables for major corporate partners, no expense had been spared. The backdrop behind the main stage displayed four glaring words: The Mercer-Prescott Union. Word on the street in Linton was that the Mercer Group's cash flow had been dangerously tight lately. Tonight wasn't just a simple engagement party for them; it was their lifeline. I stood in the side hallway, observing from the shadows. A few women in cocktail dresses were sipping champagne nearby. "Isn't Victoria Prescott still in Paris?" one asked. "That's why the Mercers are so smart," another replied with a smirk. "Announce the engagement publicly first. By the time Victoria gets back, the kid will already be on the way. How could she possibly refuse to acknowledge her own son-in-law then?" "Jane's pregnancy came at the perfect time. The Mercer Group is completely safe now." A third woman let out a contemptuous laugh. "What about Elinor then? I saw security stopping her at the side entrance just a moment ago." "What can she do? A charity case who got too comfortable, actually convincing herself she's a real Prescott." The temperature in my blood dropped to near zero. At that moment, the doors to the bridal suite opened. Jane stepped out. She wore a pearl-white evening gown, one hand resting softly over her belly. Her makeup was delicate, her eyes artificially reddened to look soft and fragile. A crowd immediately swarmed around her. "Miss Prescott, congratulations!" "Zachary is so devoted to you. This setup is absolutely breathtaking." "A girl raised by the Prescott family really is built different. No wonder the Mercer family treasures you so much." Jane lowered her gaze, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "Please don't call me that. If Elinor hears it, it'll make her uncomfortable." Someone immediately jumped to her defense. "Why should she feel uncomfortable? Your family raised her for years, and now she wants to steal your fiance? People receiving charity should know their place. Jane, you're just too kind for your own good." Jane didn't add another word. She simply offered a delicate, tearful smile. I reached out and stopped a young businessman walking past me. "Excuse me. Is tonight's bride the daughter of Victoria Prescott?" He looked me up and down. "Of course. Jane Prescott." "Are you certain?" He laughed. "What's there to doubt? She carries the Prescott name, rides in the family's private cars, and her social media is packed with photos inside the Prescott estate, private jets, and board galas. Zachary himself confirmed she's the sole heir to Prescott Enterprise." He leaned in closer, dropping his voice. "She keeps a low profile, though. Whenever people call her Miss Prescott, she tells them not to make a fuss." "What about Elinor?" I asked. The man's expression twisted into disgust. "Oh, her? Word is she's just an orphan funded by the Prescott Foundation. Guess she lived in their mansion for too long and started pretending she owned the place. She even tried to crash the party tonight to cause a scene." I didn't bother asking anything else. Over by the side entrance, Elinor was standing near the security checkpoint. She wore a simple black dress, holding her ID card and an invitation, blocked by two burly security guards. "Apologies, ma'am," the guard said coldly. "Our guest list specifically notes that you are barred from entering the main hall." Elinor's voice was soft, but steady. "The invitation specifies family members of the Prescott house. My last name is Prescott." The guard remained impassive. "Mrs. Mercer specifically instructed us that you are a high-risk disturbance." The second guard sneered impatiently. "Miss Jane is pregnant. Don't stress her out. If you want to wait, go sit in the holding room down the hall. Don't block the camera crew." Elinor's face went completely pale. She didn't scream or make a scene. She simply clutched her ID card tightly in her palm. My daughter, standing outside an engagement party meant for her, was labeled as a trashy intruder while a fraud stole her life. I almost rushed over to hold her. But I forced myself to stop. Holding her right now would only bring her tears. I needed every single person inside that hall to see who the real joke was. I looked back at Jane, who was surrounded by applause, softly rubbing her belly while accepting blessings. Then I looked at Elinor, standing alone outside the doors of her own home's legacy. A cold laughter boiled in my chest. The Mercer family thought they could corner me into backing their loans tonight. They had no idea that I detest being cornered. And I especially detest parasites using my daughter's dignity as a stepping stone. 2 I pulled out my phone and sent a rapid series of texts to my chief of staff, Simon. [Freeze all security footage from the hotel.] [Retrieve the event itinerary, security rosters, press releases, and Mercer Group's latest financing pitch decks.] [Have legal prepare all evidence for screen projection.] [Ensure no key guests at tonight's head tables leave early.] Simon replied almost instantly: [Understood, Ms. Prescott.] With three hours left before the official ceremony, I checked into a private suite on the twenty-sixth floor. When Simon and my head of legal, Dominic, arrived, they didn't even have time to take off their coats. Simon placed an iPad in front of me. "Ms. Prescott, Jane didn't come up with this overnight." The first slide showed a social media post from Jane three years ago. The photo was taken inside the glass botanical greenhouse on the north side of the Prescott estate. Caption: Mom pushed me to come home for dinner again. In the original photo, Elinor and I were standing right next to the floral racks. When Jane posted it, she cropped us out completely, leaving only the iconic greenhouse that everyone in high society recognized. The second slide showed her posing inside a luxury vehicle. Caption: My driver says traffic is terrible today. The license plate belonged to Elinor's private security detail. The third slide featured a dusty-blue haute couture gown. It was a one-of-a-kind piece I had personally bought for Elinor's twentieth birthday at an auction in Geneva. Jane's caption read: My closet is overflowing. Mom is forcing me to clear out some space again. She never outright stated, "I am Victoria Prescott's daughter." She just casually mentioned "Mom." She never outright said, "This is my car." She just referred to the "driver." She never blatantly declared herself the heiress. She simply let people see her using the Prescott name, riding in Prescott cars, and standing inside the Prescott mansion. And she let society fill in the blanks for her. Dominic opened a secondary file. "Jane's original name was Jane Jiang. She legally changed her surname to Prescott at age nineteen." Her official application reason was smoothly written: Deeply grateful for the Prescott Foundation's support, wishing to honor the name. Yet buried deep in the original charity agreement, printed in stark black and white, were three explicit terms: Does not constitute legal adoption. Does not establish familial status. Grants no rights to Prescott Group equity, family trusts, or inheritance. I stared at those terms, letting out a sharp laugh. She hid the three most critical legal clauses, while dangling the name "Prescott" in front of the world. "What about the Mercer family?" I asked. Simon's expression darkened further. "In the pitch deck the Mercer Group sent to several commercial banks, they attached tonight's itinerary. The header explicitly declares a 'Mercer-Prescott Union,' complete with a forged summary of an intent-to-partner agreement with Prescott Enterprise." Dominic added, "The corporate seal on that summary was digitally spliced from old documents. It is entirely fraudulent." In short, the Mercers weren't just using this party to generate clout. They were using a fake endorsement to trick major banks into releasing credit lines. I scrolled down. In an email chain between the Mercers and their PR firm, one sentence stood out like a thorn: Victoria Prescott is still tied up in Paris and cannot deny it in person. Announce the union first, secure the signatures later. Leak the news of Jane's pregnancy simultaneously. To protect their corporate reputation, the Prescotts will most likely accept it quietly. I slammed the tablet onto the glass table. "Ambitious little bastards, aren't they?" Dominic handed over a security roster. Elinor's name was highlighted in bold red text. Note column: Funded orphan. Suspected stalker obsessed with Zachary. Emotionally unstable. Forcefully detain and remove if she approaches the stage. Authorized signature: Vivian Mercer, Zachary's mother. Attached was a voice note transcript she sent to the security chief: If she throws a tantrum, let the media film it. The messier, the better. It'll prove to the public that she's mentally unhinged. I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, every trace of warmth in my chest had turned to ice. Half an hour later, I met Elinor in the service hallway on the lower level. The moment she saw me, she froze in her tracks. "Mom?" Her eyes turned red instantly. But a second later, panic flashed across her face as she instinctively looked behind me. "Why are you back early? Do the Mercers know? Did the press catch you?" A sharp pain pierced my heart. I pulled her into a tight embrace. "Elinor, look at me. What are you actually afraid of?" She remained rigid for a long time before whispering, "I'm not afraid." I stepped back, looking straight into her eyes. "Then tell me." "Why did the bride become Jane?" "Why were you stopped at the door?" "And why is everyone claiming that you are the charity case?" Elinor's face drained of all color. Her lips trembled as tears finally spilled over her cheeks. "I told them the truth," she choked out. "I really did... But they all said I was just jealous of her." 3 Elinor's story came out in quiet, broken sentences. The Mercer and Prescott families did have an old, informal understanding. Years ago, during a casual dinner between elders, someone had joked that if the children grew up and took a liking to each other, a union would be lovely. I had never taken that joke seriously, and neither had Elinor. After her very first meeting with Zachary Mercer, she came home and told me one thing: "Mom, he doesn't look at me like a person. He looks at me like a piece of high-value collateral." I was in the middle of closing the Paris acquisition at the time, so I told her to handle it according to her own wishes. She promptly and explicitly rejected his advances. Yet the Mercer family refused to take no for an answer. Dinner invitations, charity galas, horse races, art exhibitions, the invitations arrived in relentless waves. Elinor grew exasperated, but didn't want to bother me while I was negotiating overseas. That was when Jane stepped up. Jane had said: "Elinor, if you don't want to see him, I can go return his gifts for you. I'll make it crystal clear to them so they stop harassing you." Elinor believed her. Jane had taken the Prescott name and visited our estate frequently over the years, learning countless intimate details about our household. Elinor assumed she was simply acting as a polite buffer. Instead, the first time Jane met the Mercer family, Vivian Mercer had asked her: "Are you the Prescott girl?" Jane hadn't denied it. She simply offered a shy, modest smile. "My family prefers me to keep a low profile. You can just call me Jane." The second time, she rode in Elinor's driver-driven car. The third time, she wore a designer dress borrowed from Elinor's closet. By the fourth time, she accepted a diamond bracelet from Zachary, posting a photo online with the caption: Some arrangements simply cannot be avoided. When Elinor finally realized something was wrong and confronted her, Jane broke down in tears right in front of Zachary. "Elinor, are you angry that I met Zachary on your behalf? I was only trying to keep them from bothering you!" Zachary had frowned on the spot, scolding Elinor: "She's been speaking up for you this whole time. Don't be so venomous." When Elinor told them that Jane was not the Prescott heiress, Vivian Mercer let out a cold sneer. "You're just a parasite raised by the Prescotts. How dare you speak on behalf of their family?" From that day on, in the eyes of the Mercers, Elinor became an ungrateful, jealous orphan. Every time Elinor tried to clear her name, Jane would cry, softly whispering that "Elinor is just a bit sensitive." Every explanation Elinor offered was twisted into proof of her bitter jealousy. To make matters worse, after Jane got pregnant, she sent a copy of her ultrasound directly to Elinor's phone. Elinor, a child needs a father. You already have a mother, Prescott Enterprise, and a legacy. I have nothing except this baby. You never liked Zachary anyway. Can't you just let me have this engagement? Elinor had texted back: An engagement isn't a commodity. It can't be handed off. Jane immediately cropped out her own message and forwarded Elinor's response directly to Vivian Mercer. And so, rumor spread among high society that Elinor was so consumed by jealousy over Jane's pregnancy that she was trying to force a miscarriage. Listening to her, my fingers clenched tightly into my palms. "Why didn't you tell me?" Elinor lowered her head. "You were in Paris." "The Mercers were watching our corporate movements, waiting for any sign of instability in your acquisition deal." "Jane told me that if I made a public scene, your board would think you couldn't even manage your own household, which would tank the negotiations." She looked up at me, her eyes brimming with heartache. "Mom, I didn't want to be a burden to you." A lump formed in my throat. I had raised her to be thoughtful and considerate, so considerate that when she suffered severe injustice, her first instinct was not to ask for help, but to calculate my business risks. "Was I stupid?" Elinor asked softly. I wiped the tears from her face. "No." "It's my fault for keeping you out of the public eye to protect your privacy, without teaching you that even a quiet life requires fierce boundaries." By early evening, Simon sent another file. Jane had used Elinor's secondary security pass to enter the Prescott estate's walk-in closet nine separate times. She had taken four haute couture gowns, two sets of high jewelry, and digital copies of over thirty family album photos. She had also attended two private Mercer family dinners under the explicit title of "Prescott Heiress." Her identity on the sign-in sheet: Miss Prescott. Nobody had bothered to verify it. Because her surname was Prescott, and because the Mercer family desperately wanted to believe the lie. At six in the evening, Jane posted a new update: If even carrying the family name cannot prove my devotion, what else do I have left to give? The comment section was flooded with sympathy. Jane, don't cry. You are a real Prescott! Elinor is utterly vile. Receiving charity from the Prescotts and still abusing a pregnant woman! You're carrying his child now. No one can tear you and Zachary apart. Zachary commented below: I'm right here with you. Staring at those five words, a cold smile touched my lips. Oh, he would be right there, alright. Between the recorded audio, security logs, legal injunctions, and police reports, he wouldn't miss a single second of what was coming. 4 At six-fifteen, I called Richard Mercer, Zachary's father. He answered on the second ring, his tone unable to mask his rising excitement. "Ms. Prescott! You're back in the country?" "Yes," I replied calmly. "I'll be taking the stage tonight to say a few words." Richard let out an immediate, relieved laugh. "That's wonderful news! With you making a personal appearance, any silly rumors circulating outside will be crushed." I asked, "Who authorized your team to market tonight as the Mercer-Prescott Union?" He paused for a fraction of a second before chuckling smoothly. "Well, the young couple's feelings have reached this stage, and with a baby on the way, we elders certainly shouldn't stand in the way of love, should we?" "Besides, the child Miss Prescott is carrying shares Mercer blood." He deliberately emphasized the title "Miss Prescott." I didn't bother arguing with him. "Proceed as scheduled. I'll be on stage at seven." After hanging up, I instructed Simon, "Take full control of the main projection screen." "Keep the press gallery locked down." "Seat the commercial bank executives in the front row." "Have the police squad wait outside the hotel for my signal." Dominic asked, "Should we shut down the event now?" I cast a cold glance toward the grand ballroom. "No." "They wanted the entire city as their witness." "So let the entire city watch the show." At six-twenty-five, I walked into the bridal suite. Jane was sitting before the vanity mirror touching up her makeup. The gown she wore was the exact one Elinor had worn to her birthday celebration last year. Later, Jane had begged to borrow it, claiming she loved the design. Seeing me enter through the mirror, the powder puff slipped from her fingers, clattering onto the marble desk. "Aunt Victoria..." I sat down on the leather sofa. "Don't call me that." Her eyes rimmed with red instantly. "Did Elinor say something to you? I swear I never tried to steal anything from her!" "Who told the Mercers to put your name on the welcome sign tonight?" She bit her lip tightly. "My legal name is Jane Prescott now." "The name is yours," I said flatly. "The title of Prescott heiress is not." Tears spilled over her cheeks. "I changed my name out of pure gratitude toward your family! I never once explicitly told people I was your daughter. They just misunderstood!" "And when Elinor was branded a parasite and a stalker, did you ever bother to set them straight?" She went silent for two seconds. When she looked up again, the fragile, timid act had vanished from her eyes. "Aunt Victoria, Elinor never loved Zachary in the first place." "She didn't want this union. Is it really so wrong for me to step in and take what she rejected?" I looked at her cold-bloodedly. "Step in and take it? Or manipulate your way into stealing it?" Jane rested her hand over her lower belly, her tone hardening. "I am pregnant with Zachary's child." "The Mercer family only recognizes me now." "Tonight, the media, the banking executives, and all your business partners are out in that hall. If you expose me publicly, you won't just ruin me. You'll destroy Mercer's financing, and you'll sabotage Prescott Enterprise's fresh European acquisition!" She stepped forward, a sharp, bitter laugh escaping her lips. "The public will say the ruthless Prescott CEO drove a pregnant young girl to the brink of death." "They'll say you raised me for over a decade, only to crush me into the dirt the moment your biological daughter threw a jealous tantrum." "Aunt Victoria, you care so much about your corporate reputation. You wouldn't want your massive Paris deal tarnished by a ugly public scandal, would you?" She had finally dropped the fragile act. First tears, then threats. When soft manipulation failed, she reached for emotional blackmail, weaponizing her pregnancy, public opinion, and my business interests. She truly believed she held the winning hand. I offered no response. I simply turned and walked out of the room. At six-forty-five, Simon sent me a fresh screenshot. Jane had just posted another update: I only wanted to reach for a tiny piece of happiness that felt like my own. Zachary had replied: Whatever belongs to you, no one can ever take away. I forwarded the image directly to Dominic. "Add it to the slide deck." "Copy that," Dominic replied. At seven o'clock sharp, the lights inside the grand ballroom dimmed. The master of ceremonies stepped into the center spotlight, his voice booming through the speakers. "Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed guests! Tonight, we gather to witness a historic union between the Mercer Group's very own Zachary Mercer and the beloved Prescott heiress, Jane Prescott!" Thunderous applause echoed through the hall. Jane emerged through the orchid archway, her hand gently resting on Zachary's arm. She looked delicate, tearful, and radiant, like a white lily blooming through adversity. Zachary leaned down lovingly to adjust the train of her gown. Cameras flashed wildly. Soft murmurs filled the guest tables. "Zachary is so devoted to her." "The Prescott heiress looks stunning even while pregnant." "Once this merger locks in, Mercer Group's financial troubles are officially over." The host's voice rose again. "And now, please join me in welcoming the representative of the bride's family..." Before he could finish his sentence, the heavy side doors swung wide open. I stepped into the grand hall, flanked by Simon, Dominic, and Prescott Enterprise's full executive legal team. The entire ballroom fell dead silent. Richard Mercer was the first to spring up from his seat, a massive, eager smile plastered across his face. "Ms. Prescott! You made it!" I didn't give him a single glance. I walked straight onto the main stage, reached out, and took the microphone directly from the host's hand. "Good evening, everyone. I am Victoria Prescott." A blinding sea of camera flashes illuminated the stage. I paused, letting my gaze sweep slowly over the crowd. "I have just returned from Paris." "I originally assumed tonight was merely a modest family dinner hosted by the Mercer family to honor an old acquaintance." "To my surprise, upon arriving at the entrance, I saw a profoundly absurd title displayed on the banner." I turned my head, fixing my eyes directly on Jane. Her face had already begun to turn deathly pale. I delivered every single word with icy precision: "Prescott Enterprise has never had a daughter named Jane."