Wait for the Morrow
Language: en
In my last life, the Hamiltons came to the orphanage to choose an adopted daughter. I saw a girl caked in filth and grime and, feeling sorry for her, gave her my only buttery biscuit. She devoured it like a starved animal, smearing crumbs and grease all over her face. The Hamiltons, a couple obsessed with cleanliness, wrinkled their noses in disgust and chose me instead, the clean one. Years later, when the true heiress was discovered, it was her. She tearfully accused me of intentionally setting her up to steal her place. “But we were all just victims of circumstance,” she’d sobbed to…