Chapter 1Surviving The Plot As The Country Girl

The day I was brought back to the Carmichael estate, I realized I had been dropped into a family of doomed villains.

My older brother was a ruthless, cold-hearted workaholic destined to become dangerously obsessed with a girl he couldn’t have. My younger sister was the textbook mean-girl sidekick, slated for a tragic, humiliating end. And our parents? They were the oblivious collateral damage, destined to bankrupt the family by crossing the wrong Old Money heir.

Honestly, it was a lot to process.

But I had finally crawled my way out of rural poverty into a life of Egyptian cotton and central heating. There was absolutely no way I was going to let this gilded ship sink.

To save this family, I was going to have to fix them.

Walking into the Carmichael mansion in Connecticut, I had deliberately worn my nicest dress—a blue floral sundress I’d ironed twice that morning.

The moment I stepped into the foyer, the girl on the velvet sofa—dressed in a pristine white tulle skirt, looking like a porcelain doll—pinched her nose.

"What is that... smell on her?"

This was the fake daughter. Serena Carmichael.

I lifted my arm and took a whiff. "It’s not that bad, is it? Just a little topsoil and engine grease. I was fixing the tractor before the lawyer picked me up. If it bothers you, I can go scrub down now."

Serena’s eyes instantly brimmed with tears. Her voice trembled. "Mom, is she... is she mad at me? Does she hate me for taking her place all these years?"

The elegant woman standing nearby—Eleanor, my biological mother—frowned immediately. "Harper, your sister was just making an observation. There is no need for that attitude."

A young man sitting in the leather armchair, typing furiously on a MacBook, snapped his laptop shut. He leveled a glacial glare at me.

"Serena, come here."

Serena rushed over, burying her face in his cashmere shoulder, her shoulders shaking with delicate sobs.

He patted her back, his eyes cutting into me like shattered glass. "Let’s get one thing straight. In this house, if you ever make her cry again, you will answer to me. I am Preston Carmichael. And I only recognize Serena as my sister."

I scratched the back of my neck, utterly bewildered.

What did I even say?

The butler escorted me to the second floor, pushing open double mahogany doors to reveal a bedroom larger than my entire farmhouse back in Montana.

Downstairs, Serena was still weeping softly. "Preston, it’s not fair to put Harper in the guest wing. I should pack up my room and give it to her..."

She didn't finish her sentence, because at that exact moment, I dropped my canvas duffel bag and launched myself face-first onto the mattress.

"Holy hell! Is this memory foam? Are these goose-down pillows?!"

I rolled across the massive bed, sinking into the plush duvet, practically screaming with joy. "This is absolute heaven. I’m going to sleep until I forget what my own name is!"

Downstairs, the crying abruptly stopped.