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The Battle of the Heiresses

Rose John, a supposed member of the esteemed John family, was widely recognized as an imposter. Expectations ran high for a showdown between the true and false daughters, but the initial round saw the genuine daughter, Molly John, suffer a surprising defeat. Confident in her lineage, Molly confronted Rose, declaring, "I am the real John daughter. Leave the family." Unperturbed, Rose casually discarded the property certificate, asserting her claim, "Sorry, the house is mine. Take your time." Undeterred, Molly retorted, "Your fiancé belongs to me. Step aside. I'm the true daughter." Rose nonchalantly replied, "I don't want that scum. You two are made for each other. I quit." Molly boasted of her wealthy family, but Rose swiftly retorted, "Your father was my father's driver. Who's truly rich and powerful?" Molly flaunted designer works, unaware that those very designers once considered Rose their mentor. While Molly schemed for the Best Actress title, Rose relied on her talent and charm. The public soon realized that whenever the true daughter attempted to deceive or outshine, she faced humiliating setbacks. Since the exposure of the imposter, Molly's reputation suffered, leaving her humiliated and her face metaphorically swollen. In the battle between the real and fake daughters, it became clear that authenticity triumphed over pretense. The saga of the John family continued, as the imposter's exposure forever altered the dynamics of their relationships.

Isabella Lee · Urban
Not enough ratings
100 Chs

Chapter 012 Mr. Steven courted you?

Steven Quain clenched his hand on the phone.

Is it difficult for someone to take a fancy to this little girl?

"If you can't find out, you have to find out."

I'm afraid anyone who dares to hit this little girl is tired of living.

The temperature in the car suddenly dropped, and even Sam Jane, who had been staring at his boss, dared not look again.

"Yes, boss," he said in a panic.

the John Family.

It was past ten o'clock in the evening, and the living room was still brightly lit.

Wendy Spark is not good at cursing, and even after dozens of comments, she is somewhat at a loss for words.

In the end, open your mouth directly: "Don't brush your sense of existence here. Believe it or not, I'll climb down the net line and blow your head off."

This sentence is over, and I am still angry.

Just as she was racking her brains to reply, Nancy said shyly, "Madam, it seems that the Internet is not working."