“I’m not joking. My name is Elena Whelan now. My surname is Whelan.”
Elena explained the entire switched-at-birth saga. Theresa was her best friend; she deserved the truth.
“No way. That is the most soap-opera thing I’ve ever heard. Switched at birth? But hey, it doesn't matter if you’re a Sterling or a Whelan, you’re my sister! If the Sterlings were heartless to you, say the word. I’ll burn them to the ground for you.”
Elena smiled. “No need. I have a plan. The Sterlings are already starting to crack.”
She was waiting to boil the frog slowly.
“Well, well. If it isn't the fake heiress, Elena. Haven't seen you in a while. Fall from the clouds right into the mud, did we?” a mocking voice sneered.
Elena looked up. Max Holt.
He was the fiancé the Sterlings had arranged for her. Now, he belonged to Emily.
Max had always lusted after her, and Elena had always rejected him. Now he was back to gloat.
“Theresa, let’s go,” Elena said.
She didn't have time for trash.
“Stop right there, Elena! I’m talking to you!” Max barked.
“Wipe the sleep out of your eyes before you speak to me.”
“Sleep?” Max instinctively touched his eye.
Theresa covered her mouth, giggling. Elena played him effortlessly.
“You dare mock me? Elena, you think you’re still a Sterling princess? You think you can treat me like dirt?”
“Get lost,” Elena warned. He was buzzing around like a fly.
“What are you so arrogant for? You’re a fake! I know your real family raises pigs in the sticks! I only tolerated you before because you were a Sterling and my fiancée. Now you’re nothing. Don't push your luck!”
Max stepped closer, his tone turning sleazy.
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