Chapter 2 of She Proposed to the Fake Heir ,But I Was Never the Real One Either

With everyone watching, I walked up to the two of them.

"Congratulations on finding each other. I'm really happy for you both. I wish you nothing but happiness from here on out. I'll get going."

Francis froze.

Bernice frowned. "Abraham, what kind of act is this?"

Francis's eyes reddened. "Please, don't do this. I really didn't expect her to propose to me either. If you're upset, I'll give you the ring."

"No need."

"I mean it. Here, take the ring."

"I said I don't want it!"

"Ah!"

I pushed his hand away. The ring slipped right off and clattered to the floor.

Francis's eyes glistened instantly. "Do you really hate me that much?"

"Enough!" Bernice pulled Francis behind her. "Abraham, who do you think you are? Fine, you're the real son. But I've known Francis for twenty years. If we're being honest, you're the outsider here."

I couldn't take it anymore.

"That's exactly right! I am the outsider! I'm not the real heir, and I'm not Abraham Harding! My name is Humphrey Simmons!"

The entire room went dead silent.

My breathing came fast and shallow.

Francis stared, mouth open. "You'd really say something like that just to spite me? What am I supposed to do with that?"

I blinked. "What?"

Could none of them understand plain English?

I pointed at my own face. "Look closely. I don't look exactly like Abraham. His eyes are a little bigger than mine, and his earlobes sit lower."

"Enough!" Bernice shoved me. "I already told you, you are never to make things difficult for Francis again."

Francis bent down and picked up the ring, the rims of his eyes still red.

Everyone in the room glared at me with open disapproval.

"What's he playing at? He looks exactly like Abraham."

"He's just trying to humiliate Francis. Making up lies so he can play the martyr and guilt Francis into giving up Bernice."

Bernice fixed me with an icy stare. "Abraham, my patience has a limit. If you keep throwing tantrums and tormenting Francis, don't blame me for cutting you off completely."

Was there a single sane person in this room?

I was out of options. "Fine! You don't believe me? Let's go get a paternity test. Right now."

Bernice and Francis both went still.

I pointed at Francis. "We go home, get samples from Mom and Dad, and pay for a rush job. When the results come back, you can all see for yourselves whether I'm a Harding or not."

Bernice's brow furrowed. She looked at me with something close to surprise.

The guests who'd come to witness the proposal exchanged uneasy glances.

"He doesn't sound like he's bluffing. He's not actually going to do it, is he?"

"What if he really isn't Abraham?"

"He looks serious."

Bernice opened her mouth to speak.

Francis suddenly let out a choked sob. "Fine. I get it. I'm the outsider. You don't have to humiliate me just to remind me of that."

He flung the engagement ring aside and strode toward the exit. Someone tried to stop him, and he wrenched free.

My mind went blank. "Wait, that's not what I— Ah!"

A brutal shove sent me stumbling. Bernice was seething.

"How long are you going to keep this up?"

"I'm telling you the truth! I'm not Abraham Harding!"