Blurb：
When the real heiress returned, I was thrown out of the Shaw family villa into a New York rainstorm. My adoptive parents Lucy and brother Leon thought I'd crumble without luxury, but this cannon-fodder fake heiress knows better. While Lucy whispers plans to keep me as a pet and Leon schemes, I'm turning my last $8,000 allowance into survival fuel. From discount store haggling to selling my Louis Vuitton set, I'm proving that downgrading isn't defeat—it's my power move. Watch me thrive in my comfort zone, where every dollar counts and no one controls my story.Content：
The day my parents' real heiress returned, I was kicked out of the house.My adoptive parents insisted I experience the hardships their biological daughter had endured for twenty years.
Hah, what hardships? For a real workhorse like me, isn't this just a matter of.... downgrading my lifestyle?
Playing from behind is what I do best!
At midnight, a heavy rain was pouring down in New York City.
I stood outside the Shaw family villa, with nothing but the clothes on my back and my phone glued to my hand.
Less than two hours after the real heiress came home, my adoptive parents threw me out.
Lucy said that since she suffered for twenty-two years on my behalf, I should get a taste of being destitute too.
The heavy door slammed shut, and the cold rain slapped hard against my face.
As a working-class girl who'd transmigrated into the role of a cannon-fodder fake heiress, I had enjoyed the young mistress lifestyle for less than twenty-four hours before becoming dirt-poor again.
I circled the villa and found a sheltered spot under the first-floor terrace, right below my brother Leon's room.
"Don't worry. She's broke. Once she gets a taste of being nobody, she'll come crawling back, begging for your attention.." Lucy's voice carried down through the drainpipe.
Tch. The villa's soundproofing isn't all that great.
No wonder Leon, who was all over me this afternoon and seemed like he wanted to play with fire, was sullen and silent tonight.
Turns out he was planning to keep me as a pet. Well, he's got another think coming.
For Leon, owning only one luxury apartment means he's too poor to survive. But for a real workhorse like me, having two hundred bucks in my wallet is enough to scrape by for half a month!
And my balance still had $8,000 left from this month's "allowance." It might be pocket change to the wealthy, but for ordinary folks like us, that's enough to live on for years if we budget carefully.
What they see as falling into the dust is, for me, just downgrading my spending.
Twenty minutes later, the Uber I called arrived. The driver got out, held an umbrella for me, and opened the car door—full service. It brought back that young mistress feeling, worth the tearful twenty percent surge price I paid.
I don't get those drama heroines who choose to walk in the rain until they get a fever. Life's hard enough without inventing struggles.
Afford a doctor is unnecessary.
The driver dropped me off at the nearest motel. I found a deal for $80 a night.
I took a hot shower, changed into the motel's pajamas, and sent my clothes to the front desk for dry-cleaning.
Before bed, I chugged two packets of NyQuil I'd ordered for delivery.
When you're on your own, you have to take good care of yourself. For people like us, our health is our most valuable asset.
If no one else pities you, you have to pity yourself.
I woke up feeling refreshed.
Wearing my freshly cleaned clothes, I went to a nearby discount store. I squeezed into a crowded stall and haggled fiercely, spending twenty dollars on four T-shirts, three pairs of shorts, and a pair of sneakers.
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