Her Familial Usurper System Failed On Me Chapter 03

Her Familial Usurper System Failed On Me Chapter 03

The charity auction was scheduled for that evening.

Mom had initially intended to take me along. A stylist came early in the morning, and there was a silver-white haute couture gown hanging ready in the dressing room.

Its waist cinched far too tight, and the skirt weighed a ton. Just gazing at it drained me. I asked Mom if I really had to wear it.

She said, “Before you come of age, you must learn how to carry yourself in society.”

I thought about it and decided to take a nap first.

I’d figure all this out once I woke up.

That afternoon, Nora snuck into the dressing room.

She moved quickly. First she disabled the camera, then locked the door. Then she poured a glass of red wine all over my gown.

The silver-white silk bloomed with a dark, ugly stain. She admired her handiwork in the mirror for a moment, then swapped the dress for the backup gown Mom had prepared.

Pale gold. It suited her perfectly.

Before dinner, Mom waited in the living room.

Nora appeared in the backup gown, looking demure, and sidled up beside her.

“Mom, Anna said the auction was boring and refused to get out of bed. She even ruined her own dress. Why don’t I accompany you? I wouldn’t want the Langleys to seem rude.”

The servants lowered their heads. No one dared speak.

Mom looked up at the second floor. My door was still closed.

She stared at it for three seconds, then said flatly, “Let’s go. We can’t be late.”

Nora nearly tripped over her own feet.

When she got into the car with Mom, her frame shook—not out of fright, but sheer happiness.

The system was probably screaming in her head, reporting rising social recognition and surging replacement progress.

The title of the true Langley daughter was finally slipping from my grasp.

After the limousine drove off, the servants whispered among themselves.

Some said I’d finally fallen out of favor. Others said Mrs. Langley cared most about appearances, and Miss Nora would soon take over. A handful paced anxiously downstairs, dreading I’d wake up and throw a fit.

But I didn’t.

I sat on the floor of my room, dressing a tattered rag doll.

The doll was worn ragged, missing one glass eye, its tiny dress split at the seams. I’d had it since I was in the hospital as a small child.

That year I’d had a high fever. No one could touch me without making me cry—except this doll.

Mom called it my lucky charm.

I buttoned its dress. The buttons were wrong. I undid them and tried again.

By the time I finally got it right, I noticed the dressing room was covered in red wine stains. The gown was ruined.

I stared at it for ages, yet felt no flicker of anger.

That dress was too tight anyway. Maybe it was better this way.

I opened the closet and pulled out a pink coral fleece pajama set with a cartoon character on the chest.

Soft. Baggy. Warm.

When the butler came upstairs, he saw me standing at the door in my pajamas, clutching the rag doll. His face went pale. “Miss, what are you doing?”

“I’m going to find Mom,” I said.

His hands shook. “Mrs. Langley has already gone to the auction. You can’t go out like this.”

I looked down at my pajamas. “My legs work fine. I can walk there.”

The butler choked. “It’s not about whether you can walk. People won’t be kind.”

I thought for a moment. “They’ll get tired of laughing. Mom never grows tired of me. She’ll come fetch me.”

The butler fell silent.

Ten minutes later, the car pulled out of Langley estate.

I sat in the back with my doll, watching the streetlights blur past the window. I was sleepy, but I kept my eyes wide open.

I was going to find Mom.