For years, our unbeatable combo had ruled the orphanage—I'd spit venom while she threw punches. Together, we were unstoppable.
But when it came to manipulative girls, my poor best friend had zero experience.
She squeezed my hand back, eyes glimmering. "Bestie, my future rich life depends on you!"
"Relax," I grinned. "I've got this."
When Uncle John and Aunt Laura returned, they found us holding hands, smiling like angels.
"You two really do seem close," she said warmly. "That puts our minds at ease."
On the ride to their mansion, Aunt Laura explained their family situation.
Aside from the "adopted" daughter—Trisha, the fake heiress—my best friend also had a brother, two years older than her.
She'd gone missing when she was three. And apparently, her brother had been the reason she got lost in the first place.
He hadn't even come to pick her up today, which said plenty about how 'thrilled' he was to have her back.
Sure enough, when we arrived at the Lambert residence, the first thing we saw was a tall, cold-faced boy standing at the gate, arms crossed, eyes shadowed like storm clouds.
And that was our welcome home.