

The Abandoned Heiress,I Was Never Your Second Choice Summary
Chapter 1 of The Abandoned Heiress,I Was Never Your Second Choice
Ten years after my parents abandoned me, they finally found me.
On the first day, they spent their entire savings to buy me an eight-hundred-dollar down jacket.
On the second day, Dad worked a night shift, saying he wanted to give me a red envelope for New Year's Eve.
On the third day, Mom took an early morning job to help pay my tuition—and slipped and fell, landing herself in the hospital.
I thought maybe they really had abandoned me because of crushing debt, not because I was born slow.
I returned the jacket, made a pot of beef and rib congee, bought some supplements, and went to visit Mom at the hospital.
That's when I saw her—a stylish, fashionably dressed girl carrying a Hermès bag, walking into Mom's room.
"Mom, even if you wanted to pick me up from the airport, you didn't have to drive so recklessly," the girl said with an exasperated sigh.
"I haven't seen you in six months! I missed you." Mom smiled, clasping the girl's hand. "Cynthia, you're the most perfect child we could ever ask for. Even more precious than our own flesh and blood!"
The thermos slipped from my fingers. Beef and rib congee splattered across the floor.
My eyes stung. I turned and walked away in silence.
If you already have your perfect child...
Why did you come looking for me?
——
By the time I reached the ground floor, heavy snow had begun to fall. Cold wind sliced through my collar, and I couldn't stop shivering.
"What beautiful snow!"
The familiar voice belonged to Cynthia Henson—Mom's perfect child.
She strolled over in a mink coat, catching snowflakes in her palm. "Ten years ago, when Mom and Dad brought me home, it was snowing just like this."
My heart clenched.
Ten years ago, Dad told me to wait under a tree while he went to buy me roasted sweet potatoes.
I waited through the falling snow. I waited until dark. I waited until I couldn't feel my hands or feet anymore.
He never came back.
Now I knew why. They had gone to adopt Cynthia Henson.
"Mom and Dad said they'd spoil me like a princess!" she continued. "When I wanted to draw, they bought me hundreds of digital art tablets. When I wanted to learn music, every instrument appeared in our house the next day. When I wanted to get into a prestigious school, the invitation letter arrived that same afternoon."
"When I said I needed more spending money, three million dollars showed up in my account within half an hour."
Every word was a needle, piercing straight into my heart.
In that tiny, crumbling orphanage, all I could do was scratch pictures of a family of three into the dirt with pebbles.
All I could do was listen to piano music drifting over the wall from the church next door.
But I worked hard. I earned my own invitation to a prestigious school.
Ten years of working odd jobs while studying. My school uniform was the cleanest, nicest thing I owned.
The socks and sweaters Grandma Director knitted for me were my only source of warmth.
"I've been so blessed," Cynthia sighed contentedly. Then she turned to me, a smile playing on her lips. "What about you? Your parents must love you very much too, right?"
I saw the challenge glinting in her eyes.
I pressed my lips together and gripped the hem of my jacket.
"Cecilia Henson!"
After a few seconds of silence, Dad's voice cut through the snow. He was still wearing that old coat with holes in it, his hair a disheveled mess.
He walked straight toward me as if Cynthia didn't exist, draping his coat over my shoulders.
"Sweetheart, what are you doing out here in this cold?"
The guilt and tenderness in his eyes didn't look fake.
It only deepened my confusion.
Cynthia acted as though she hadn't noticed Dad at all. She sauntered toward the exit, but as she stepped down the stairs, she let out a sudden cry and pitched forward.
In less than a second, Dad threw himself across the ground, cushioning her fall with his own body.
"Thank you, sir. You must be a wonderful father!" Cynthia gushed with gratitude.
Dad beamed, his smile stretching from ear to ear.

















