MY REAL PARENTS FAVOR THE FAKE HEIRESS, BUT YET, THEY ARE EVEN POORER THAN MY ADOPTIVE PARENTS. SO, I STILL NEED THEM TO SHOW ME FAVORITISM? WELL, NOT!

Because here’s the thing…..

The Ford family? The “crown prince,” Jasper Ford, whose real name was Jasper Ford?

I had known him since we were in diapers. His sister, Phoebe Ford, was my best friend. We had grown up together in Pacific Palisades, our families’ estates practically next door to each other. I had taught Jasper how to tie his shoes. I had beaten him at Mario Kart approximately ten thousand times. He was terrified of cats—specifically my cat, Lucky, an ugly one-eyed rescue I’d found in the Fords’ garden years ago.

The “crown prince” was texting me right now.

My phone buzzed.

Jasper: Heard you’re back from Maui. Come over? I have gossip.

Jasper: Also I miss you. Don’t tell Phoebe I said that.

Jasper: Also also, I’m supposed to go to this stupid gala next week and I need moral support. Please come. I’ll let you make fun of my suit.

I looked up from my phone. The Lithans were still chattering about the Ford family like they were discussing Greek gods.

“—and then, Tiffany, once you’ve caught the crown prince’s attention, you’ll be set for life,” Mother Lithan was saying.

“You just need to stand next to someone plain so you’ll shine by comparison. Elena, you’ll come with us. You can be Tiffany’s foil.”

I stood up.

“I think I’ve heard enough for one day.”

“So soon?” Mother Lithan’s eyes narrowed at my empty hands.

“You came with nothing? The family that raised you couldn’t even send you with a proper gift for your real parents?”

“My real parents,” I said, “are at home in Pacific Palisades. But since you asked—no, they didn’t send a gift. They raised me. That seems like enough.”

“Rude,” Tiffany whispered.

“The poor family must be terribly stingy,” Mother Lithan sniffed.

“Twenty years, and they couldn’t spare a single token of gratitude. Don’t worry, Elena. We won’t hold your upbringing against you. Just try not to bring your bad habits into our home.”

Father Lithan pulled out a credit card and tossed it on the coffee table.

“Here. Twenty thousand dollars. Give it to your adoptive parents as thanks for raising you. And consider it a clean break. We don’t want them showing up later asking for more.”

I stared at the card. Twenty thousand dollars. That wouldn’t cover my mother’s monthly flower budget.

“No thanks,” I said.

“I don’t think we’ll be needing that.”

I walked out before they could see me crack a smile.

The week that followed was a masterclass in awkward family dinners and whispered conspiracies. I learned that Mother Lithan wasn’t my biological mother at all—she was the second wife, the mistress who had stepped into my birth mother’s shoes before the grave was even cold.

Tiffany was her biological daughter from a previous relationship, half a year younger than me.

And Marcus—poor, stupid Marcus—was my actual half-brother, too young when our mother died to remember her, too easily manipulated by the stepmother who had raised him.

The only person in that house more clueless than Marcus was me, apparently.

I spent most of my time fielding texts from Jasper, who had gotten it into his head that I was being held hostage by a family of gold-digging social climbers.

Jasper: Just say the word and I’ll come get you.

Me: I’m fine. They’re actually hilarious. They think you’re a literal prince.

Jasper: Wait what?

Me: Yeah. They call you “the crown prince.” Apparently your ancestors were royalty.

Jasper: My great-grandfather sold used cars in Pasadena.

Me: Don’t ruin the mystique.

Jasper: I’m telling Phoebe. She’s going to die.

Me: She already knows. She’s been sending me memes about it for three days.

The night of the Ford gala arrived. The Lithan household was in chaos. Tiffany had bought a princess ballgown that made her look like a wedding cake topper. Marcus was sweating through his rented tuxedo. Even Father and Mother Lithan had squeezed into their finest.

“You’re bringing the cat?” Tiffany shrieked when she saw me with Lucky’s carrier.

“You asked me to bring her,” I said innocently.

“You said the crown prince would be impressed by someone who loves animals.”

“That was before I knew how ugly it was! It’s blind in one eye! Its fur is patchy! It looks like a taxidermy project that went wrong!”

“Don’t talk about Lucky that way. She’s perfect.”

Tiffany threw up her hands. “Fine. Bring the mutant cat. It’ll just make me look even better by comparison.”

The Ford estate in Beverly Hills was the kind of property that made other mansions look like garden sheds. Wrought iron gates. A quarter-mile driveway lined with Italian cypress trees. A Georgian-style main house that had been featured in Architectural Digest three times. Valet parking. Security guards in tailored suits.

The Lithans gawked like tourists at Disneyland.

“Remember,” Marcus hissed at me, “stay in the background. Don’t embarrass us. We’re here for Tiffany and me. You’re just… decoration.”

“Got it,” I said.

“Background decoration with a cat.”

The gala was stunning. Crystal chandeliers. A string quartet playing Vivaldi. Champagne towers. Waiters circulating with trays of caviar and truffle canapés. The who’s who of Los Angeles society mingled and air-kissed.

Marcus immediately abandoned us to network. Tiffany positioned herself near the grand staircase, trying to look elegant while her eyes darted around searching for the “crown prince.”

“Where is he?” she whispered urgently.

“I don’t see him anywhere.”

“He probably makes an entrance,” Mother Lithan said.

“Important people always do.”

I spotted Phoebe across the room. She was in a stunning emerald gown, talking to a group of socialites. Our eyes met. She winked. I winked back.

Then the crowd shifted. A murmur rippled through the room. At the top of the staircase, Jasper Ford appeared.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, devastating in a perfectly tailored charcoal tuxedo. He moved down the stairs with the easy confidence of someone who owned the building—which, technically, he did. The crowd parted for him like the Red Sea.

“The crown prince,” Tiffany breathed.

“He’s perfect.”

“Go get him, honey,” Mother Lithan urged.

“Go introduce yourself.”

But before Tiffany could take a step, a sharp-faced socialite I vaguely recognized—some minor heiress with a reputation for being unpleasant—blocked my path.

“What is that?” she demanded, pointing at Lucky’s carrier.

“My cat,” I said.

“At a formal gala? Who do you think you are?”

Her voice was loud enough to turn heads.

Tiffany saw her opportunity. She rushed forward, eyes wide and innocent. “Oh, Jasper—I mean, Mr. Ford—please don’t blame my sister! She just heard that you love small animals and she wanted to impress you! She meant well, even if it was a bit… presumptuous.”

Jasper, who had reached the bottom of the stairs, looked at Tiffany like she’d just crawled out of a drainpipe. “Who are you?”

“I’m Tiffany Lithan. We haven’t met, but I’ve admired you for so long—”

“Right.” He walked straight past her, his face breaking into a grin. “Elena! You came! And you brought Lucky!”

The entire Lithan family froze.

Jasper bounded over to me like an excited puppy. “Is she being nice today? Can I pet her? Please tell me she’s not going to scratch me this time. Lucky, it’s me, your favorite person. Please don’t embarrass me in front of all these people.”

Lucky, who normally refused to let Jasper within three feet of her, stretched lazily and let him scratch behind her remaining ear.

“She likes me today! Elena, did you see that? She likes me!”

“That’s because she can sense you’re pathetic,” I said.

“Probably true. Worth it.” He was beaming.

The silence around us was deafening. Tiffany had gone pale. Marcus, who had been working the room, was staring with his mouth hanging open. Father Lithan looked like he’d swallowed a live fish.

“Jasper,” I said, “is Phoebe around? I need to give Lucky to her for a bit.”

“She’s over by the champagne fountain. But wait—” He caught my arm as I turned to go. His expression shifted from playful to something softer, more serious.

“Stay close tonight. Please? I have something important I want to talk to you about.”

“What is it?”

“Later. Just… don’t disappear, okay?”

I promised I wouldn’t.

The gala continued. I handed Lucky off to Phoebe, who cooed over her, and was immediately swept into conversations with people I’d known since childhood. The Thorntons and the Fords had been in the same social circles for decades. I couldn’t walk five feet without running into someone who’d known me since I was in pigtails.

Marcus cornered me near the dessert table.

“You’re a Thornton,” he hissed.

“This whole time, you’ve been a Thornton, and you didn’t say anything?”

“You never asked.”

“Elena—” His voice cracked. He looked desperate.

“I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t know. If I’d known—”

“If you’d known, what? You would have treated me like a human being from the start? You shouldn’t need a bank statement to be decent to your own sister.”

He had no answer for that.

Tiffany tried a different approach. She had cornered Jasper by the grand piano and was babbling about something—probably her qualifications to be his future wife—when I walked past.

“Nian Yin,” Jasper called, using my Chinese name, the one only he ever used.

“Come here. I need you.”

Tiffany’s head whipped around.

“You know him?”

“We’re neighbors,” I said.

“Practically grew up together.”

“She taught me how to tie my shoes,” Jasper said cheerfully.

“And how to lose at Mario Kart. And how to cry when a cat won’t let you pet it.”

“You did not teach me that last one.”

“Did too. Phoebe has video evidence.”

Tiffany looked like she was going to be sick.

The night ended with the Lithan family retreating in disgrace. Father Lithan’s face was the color of an old bruise. Mother Lithan had stopped speaking entirely. Tiffany was crying—real tears this time. Only Marcus lingered, looking at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read.

“Elena,” he said quietly.

“I’m sorry. For… everything.”

“Goodbye, Marcus.”

I left with Jasper, who drove me home in his vintage Porsche, Lucky’s carrier on my lap.

“They’re terrible people,” he said.

“The Lithans. I’ve been looking into them. You know your stepmother—she’s not even your father’s legal wife? She was his mistress while your biological mother was pregnant. And Tiffany is her daughter from a previous marriage. Marcus is the only one who’s actually related to you.”

“I know. I figured it out.”

“Are you okay?”

I looked out the window at the palm trees blurring past.

“I have parents who love me. I have friends who would do anything for me. I have a cat who’s ugly and mean and perfect.” I turned to him.

“I’m more than okay.”

He pulled into the Thorntons’ driveway and cut the engine. For a long moment, neither of us spoke. Then he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.

“Elena,” he said, “I’ve been carrying this around for six months. Every time I tried to work up the courage, I chickened out. But tonight—watching you handle those awful people with so much grace, so much strength—I realized I’m an idiot for waiting this long.”

He opened the box. Inside was a vintage diamond ring, the stones catching the moonlight.

“I know I’m younger than you. I know I’m annoying and I’m afraid of your cat and I still can’t beat you at Mario Kart. But I’ve loved you since I was twelve years old and you punched a boy for pulling my sister’s hair. I’ve loved you since you brought that ugly stray cat home and nursed it back to health. I’ve loved you every single day for fourteen years, and I’m tired of pretending I don’t.”

I stared at him. “Jasper—”

“You don’t have to answer right now. But I need you to know. I’m not going anywhere. Whatever happens with the Lithans, whatever happens with your family—I’m here. I’ve always been here.”

I thought about everything I’d been through in the past few weeks. The shock of learning I was adopted. The cold rejection from my biological family. The manipulation, the insults, the twenty-thousand-dollar bribe to forget where I came from. And through all of it, Jasper had been the one constant. The one person who saw me—really saw me—and never looked away.

“Yes,” I said.

He blinked.

“What?”

“Yes. I’ll marry you. But you have to promise me one thing.”

“Anything.”

“You have to let Lucky be the ring bearer at the wedding.”

His face went pale.

“The cat? Walking down the aisle? In front of everyone?”

“Those are my terms.”

He swallowed hard.

“Fine. But if she scratches me during the ceremony, I’m blaming you.”

“Deal.”

He slid the ring onto my finger. It fit perfectly. Of course it did.

The news of our engagement spread like wildfire through Los Angeles society. The Thorntons and the Fords issued a joint statement. The society pages ran breathless headlines. And the Lithan family? They read about it in the news like everyone else.

Father Lithan called me three days later.

“Elena,” he said, his voice trembling with barely controlled fury, “how could you do this to us? We’re your family!”

“You made it very clear I wasn’t.”

“We didn’t mean it! We were just—we were testing you! To see if you were worthy of the Lithan name!”

“I don’t want the Lithan name. I have a name. It’s Thornton. And soon, it’ll be Ford.”

“Elena, please. The business is failing. We’re going to lose everything. You have to help us. You’re my daughter. My blood. You can’t just turn your back on—”

I hung up the phone.

Later, I learned what happened to them. Father Lithan’s business folded under the weight of debts and bad investments. Mother Lithan and Tiffany, in their desperate scramble to salvage what they could, emptied the family accounts and fled. They died in a car accident on the Pacific Coast Highway, speeding away from a life they could never outrun.

Marcus survived. Last I heard, he’d gambled away the money I’d quietly left for him—a final gesture, a severance package for a brother who never was. He’d fallen in with the wrong people, lost everything, ended up on the streets. I felt a pang of sadness when I heard.

Not guilt. Just… sadness. For the child he’d been. For the man he could have become.

As for me and Jasper, we got married that spring. Lucky was the ring bearer. She didn’t scratch him. She did, however, knock over a flower arrangement and try to eat the best man’s boutonniere. Jasper said it was the happiest day of his life. I believed him.

The wedding was covered by every society magazine on the West Coast. The pictures showed a bride in a custom Vera Wang gown, a groom who couldn’t stop smiling, and a one-eyed white cat sitting regally on a velvet pillow.

The caption read: “The Ford-Thornton Union: Love, Laughter, and One Very Lucky Cat.”

My parents—my real parents—cried the whole time. My mother held my face in her hands during the reception and said.

“I told you. I chose you. I will always choose you.”

Some families are born. Some are built. And some—the best ones—are chosen.

Jasper still can’t beat me at Mario Kart. Lucky still won’t let him pet her half the time. And somewhere out there, the memory of the Lithan family fades like old newsprint, a cautionary tale about what happens when you value blood over love and money over decency.

As for me? I have everything I need. A husband who adores me. A cat who tolerates him. Parents who chose me. And a life that, thanks to them, I get to choose for myself.