She Proposed to the Fake Heir ,But I Was Never the Real One Either

The secret proposal my girlfriend had been planning for me? The fake heir spilled the beans three days early. I pretended I didn't know a thing. Three days later, Francis Harding dragged me to the venue. I was ready to act surprised. But Bernice Butler walked out in a wedding dress and, in front of everyone, handed her bouquet to the fake heir. Francis gasped, eyes wide. "I swear, I had no idea she wanted to marry me. You two are so close, I thought for sure it was going to be you..." Bernice gave a cold laugh. "Abraham, so what if you're the real heir? Francis is the one who grew up with me. Consider today a lesson. Know your place, and stop coveting things that were never yours." My buddy was fuming. "You're just going to take that?!" Sure I was. I wasn't Abraham Harding. ... When the diamond ring slid onto Francis's finger, every eye in the room turned to me, dripping with amusement. "He actually thought it was for him. That's hilarious." "If that were me, I'd crawl into a hole and die. How humiliating." "He deserves it. Everyone knows Francis and Bernice are the real couple. He just throws his weight around because he's the biological son, stealing everything from Francis." Logan Armstrong was already charging forward. I grabbed his arm and yanked him back. "They're doing this on purpose to screw you over! And you're just going to stand there?" "Why wouldn't I?" I watched Francis pull Bernice into his arms, then turn to me with a smug curl of his lips. All I felt was relief. This whole circus with this deranged family was finally over. I didn't have to act anymore. Three years ago, when I first joined the Harding Group, Roger Harding's eyes had gone red the moment he saw me. "Abraham. After all this time, you've finally come home." "You stormed off after that fight with Francis. He still blames himself to this day." I explained it over and over. My name wasn't Abraham Harding. It was Humphrey Simmons. It was right there on the employment contract. But they stared at my face with dead-serious expressions. "You're home now. Enough with the games. A fake name? Really? Are you trying to cut ties with this family? Or do we have to send Francis away before you'll be satisfied? He's lived with us for over twenty years. Sending him away would be no different from abandoning him!" That was when I learned the truth. This family had a real heir and a fake one. After the real heir was brought back into the fold, he couldn't stand how the family favored the fake at every turn. Even his childhood fiancée refused to take his side. Three years ago, he'd had a massive blowout with the family and walked out. No one had heard from him since. And apparently, I looked just like him. Bernice had stepped in front of Francis, shielding him. "In the three years you were gone, Francis worried about you constantly. He thought everything was his fault. He nearly fell into depression. As long as you stop causing trouble, I'll honor our engagement. But the condition is: stop making Francis's life miserable." I had no interest in getting tangled up in this family's mess. I quit on the spot. Bernice chased me down. She tossed me a bank card loaded with two million dollars. "Are you trying to push Francis over the edge again? Stay. You'll get one of these every month." Who in their right mind would say no to that? So I became the Harding family's "real heir." I kept a low profile. Stayed out of sight during the day, moved around at night, and collected my paycheck on schedule. But Francis always found new ways to set me up. One day he'd throw himself down the stairs; the next he'd slip allergens into his own food. The security footage showed everything. Not a single person in that house was willing to believe me. Two million a month, and it felt more like compensation for emotional damages. Now they'd dropped the act. And I could finally quit.