An Orphan Pretending To Be My Heiress Daughter Chapter 2

I pulled out my phone and sent a rapid series of texts to my chief of staff, Simon.

[Freeze all security footage from the hotel.]

[Retrieve the event itinerary, security rosters, press releases, and Mercer Group's latest financing pitch decks.]

[Have legal prepare all evidence for screen projection.]

[Ensure no key guests at tonight's head tables leave early.]

Simon replied almost instantly: [Understood, Ms. Prescott.]

With three hours left before the official ceremony, I checked into a private suite on the twenty-sixth floor.

When Simon and my head of legal, Dominic, arrived, they didn't even have time to take off their coats.

Simon placed an iPad in front of me. "Ms. Prescott, Jane didn't come up with this overnight."

The first slide showed a social media post from Jane three years ago.

The photo was taken inside the glass botanical greenhouse on the north side of the Prescott estate.

Caption: Mom pushed me to come home for dinner again.

In the original photo, Elinor and I were standing right next to the floral racks. When Jane posted it, she cropped us out completely, leaving only the iconic greenhouse that everyone in high society recognized.

The second slide showed her posing inside a luxury vehicle.

Caption: My driver says traffic is terrible today.

The license plate belonged to Elinor's private security detail.

The third slide featured a dusty-blue haute couture gown. It was a one-of-a-kind piece I had personally bought for Elinor's twentieth birthday at an auction in Geneva.

Jane's caption read: My closet is overflowing. Mom is forcing me to clear out some space again.

She never outright stated, "I am Victoria Prescott's daughter."

She just casually mentioned "Mom."

She never outright said, "This is my car."

She just referred to the "driver."

She never blatantly declared herself the heiress. She simply let people see her using the Prescott name, riding in Prescott cars, and standing inside the Prescott mansion.

And she let society fill in the blanks for her.

Dominic opened a secondary file. "Jane's original name was Jane Jiang. She legally changed her surname to Prescott at age nineteen."

Her official application reason was smoothly written: Deeply grateful for the Prescott Foundation's support, wishing to honor the name.

Yet buried deep in the original charity agreement, printed in stark black and white, were three explicit terms:

Does not constitute legal adoption.

Does not establish familial status.

Grants no rights to Prescott Group equity, family trusts, or inheritance.

I stared at those terms, letting out a sharp laugh.

She hid the three most critical legal clauses, while dangling the name "Prescott" in front of the world.

"What about the Mercer family?" I asked.

Simon's expression darkened further. "In the pitch deck the Mercer Group sent to several commercial banks, they attached tonight's itinerary. The header explicitly declares a 'Mercer-Prescott Union,' complete with a forged summary of an intent-to-partner agreement with Prescott Enterprise."

Dominic added, "The corporate seal on that summary was digitally spliced from old documents. It is entirely fraudulent."

In short, the Mercers weren't just using this party to generate clout. They were using a fake endorsement to trick major banks into releasing credit lines.

I scrolled down.

In an email chain between the Mercers and their PR firm, one sentence stood out like a thorn:

Victoria Prescott is still tied up in Paris and cannot deny it in person.

Announce the union first, secure the signatures later.

Leak the news of Jane's pregnancy simultaneously. To protect their corporate reputation, the Prescotts will most likely accept it quietly.

I slammed the tablet onto the glass table. "Ambitious little bastards, aren't they?"

Dominic handed over a security roster. Elinor's name was highlighted in bold red text.

Note column: Funded orphan. Suspected stalker obsessed with Zachary. Emotionally unstable. Forcefully detain and remove if she approaches the stage.

Authorized signature: Vivian Mercer, Zachary's mother.

Attached was a voice note transcript she sent to the security chief: If she throws a tantrum, let the media film it. The messier, the better. It'll prove to the public that she's mentally unhinged.

I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, every trace of warmth in my chest had turned to ice.

Half an hour later, I met Elinor in the service hallway on the lower level.

The moment she saw me, she froze in her tracks.

"Mom?"

Her eyes turned red instantly. But a second later, panic flashed across her face as she instinctively looked behind me.

"Why are you back early? Do the Mercers know? Did the press catch you?"

A sharp pain pierced my heart. I pulled her into a tight embrace.

"Elinor, look at me. What are you actually afraid of?"

She remained rigid for a long time before whispering, "I'm not afraid."

I stepped back, looking straight into her eyes. "Then tell me."

"Why did the bride become Jane?"

"Why were you stopped at the door?"

"And why is everyone claiming that you are the charity case?"

Elinor's face drained of all color. Her lips trembled as tears finally spilled over her cheeks.

"I told them the truth," she choked out. "I really did... But they all said I was just jealous of her."