Trash Queen
Language: en
The second I slid into the back of the Rolls-Royce Phantom, my hands moved with practiced lightning speed. I snatched three empty Evian bottles wedged in the crevices of the leather seats and stuffed them into my bag. My biological parents recoiled, pressing manicured fingers to their noses. My newfound brother sneered, muttering something about a waste of oxygen. Meanwhile, the elegant fake daughter sitting across from me hid a delicate smirk behind her hand, laughing at the beggar they had just dragged out of the slums. But as the heavy gates of The Heights—the city’s most exclusive…