Chapter2
That was the Hendrix family for you–practical to the core. They respected time because it generated profit. Sentimentality, on the other hand, held no value.
Jerrold gave a curt nod. “Gather your things. Harland will drive you.”
Dora set down her cup and stood. She had just reached the stairs when Linda’s anxious voice cut through the air behind her.
“Dora, your birth parents live in a really small place. If you bring too much stuff, there won’t be room. And. they’re not well–off. They live in an old neighborhood. Those luxury items probably won’t be much use–and honestly, they might leave a bad impression.”
Anyone could hear the real message behind the words: she just didn’t want Dora taking any of the Hendrix family’s belongings.
Audra frowned in disapproval. None of those things meant anything to the Hendrix family. If word got out that they were squabbling over a few bags and accessories, it would only make them look petty.
She glanced at Betty Campos. “Go help her pack. Anything she doesn’t take, throw it out.”
Linda froze. ‘Throw it out? Everything Dora leaves behind? But those are luxury items–jewelry, limited–edition designer bags. Any single piece is worth tens of thousands. Even the flats Dora is wearing cost over 25 thousand dollars.‘
Tossing it all would be like burning a fortune.
Dora let out a light, amused laugh, then headed upstairs. She grabbed a
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small lambskin backpack and packed only the essentials–her ID, phone, and a few important documents.
She told Betty to mail her school uniform to the Acosta family. Everything else? She didn’t even glance at it.
She left without a shred of hesitation.
She had always planned to leave the Hendrix family once she turned eighteen. Linda’s sudden appearance simply moved up the timeline–and gave her the perfect excuse.
‘Does Linda really think the Hendrix family is some kind of dream?‘ she thought.
Maybe for the men, it was a golden pyramid built on ambition and power. But for the women? No matter how well they were raised, they were nothing more than pawns–tools for business marriages and strategic
alliances.
Blood ties only made the pawn more valuable.
Now that she had taken on the title of “daughter of the Hendrix family,” Linda had better buckle up.
The two Hendrix brothers would be returning soon. And those two? They weren’t just intense–they were downright dangerous.
If Linda didn’t learn fast and play smart, she wouldn’t last a week before they tore her apart.
The car dropped her off at the entrance of an old, worn–down apartment complex. With her phone in hand, Dora double–checked the detailed address she had saved and began walking in at a leisurely pace.
In the community garden, beneath the shade of a large, timeworn tree, sat a weathered stone table surrounded by elderly men engrossed in a game
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of chess.
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Nearby, a group of middle–aged women crowded around the outdoor fitness equipment, chatting so loudly that half the neighborhood could hear who was cheating on whom and which kid had flunked a test.
Dora’s bright, curious eyes scanned the scene. It was all new to her–but oddly charming. It felt just like something out of a TV show, full of life and down–to–earth charm.
Naturally, dressed head–to–toe in designer couture, her skin as pale and flawless as porcelain, she drew quite a few stares.
One look and it was obvious–this was a rich girl from some elite family. ‘So what is she doing in a place like this?‘ they thought.
She ran into two nosy but friendly women who, after some excited chitchat, kindly pointed her in the right direction. Thanks to them, she soon found the Acosta family.
Each apartment in the complex had two doors: an outer iron gate and an inner wooden one.
Dora glanced up at the unit number, then down at her phone to confirm the address. Once she was sure, she looked around–there was no doorbell in sight.
She gave the iron gate a polite knock. Though it was soft, someone inside
heard it.
“Who is it?” came a warm, gentle voice from inside. A moment later, the wooden door opened, revealing a woman with no makeup, yet still breathtaking in her natural beauty.
The moment Dora saw her face, she knew–this was her birth mother. She smiled and said, “Hello. I’m probably your biological daughter.”
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Chris Acosta froze.
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The girl standing before her had luminous, fair skin and delicate, almond- shaped eyes that shimmered like spring water. It was like looking into a mirror from her own youth. Anyone would recognize her instantly–this was her daughter./
Hearing the unfamiliar voice, Alberto Acosta got up from the couch and came to the door. When he saw the girl’s face–so strikingly similar to Chris’s when she was younger–he was stunned.
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