Chapter 2: Welcome to the Harris Family

The moment I lost consciousness saving a drowning child, I wished that in my next life, I’d wake up to the scent of expensive perfume on my mom, hear the hearty laughter of an old-money dad, and feel the broad, comforting hand of a grandpa in a tailored suit ruffling my hair.

I imagined the kind of family you only see in Hallmark movies or those glossy catalogs that show up around Christmas—everyone laughing around a grand piano, sparkling cider in hand, the world outside frosted over but inside, everything warm and golden.

But when I opened my eyes, I was lying peacefully in a trash can.

So much for my American dream. The metal was cold beneath me, the plastic liner crinkling every time I moved. My nose wrinkled at the unmistakable scent of week-old takeout and mystery gunk.

Heh. Didn’t they say good people get good rewards? Why did I get such a catastrophic start?

Karma clearly missed a memo. This was not what those motivational posters at the doctor’s office promised.

The lid was closed.

Total blackout. If not for the thin sliver of light sneaking in, I might’ve thought I was buried alive.

I was nearly suffocated by the stench of all kinds of garbage mixed together.

It was the kind of smell that stuck to your lungs—a pungent, sticky soup of fast food wrappers, half-eaten pizza crusts, and something I desperately hoped wasn’t a dead rat.

Staring at my little hands—plump and dimpled—I was silent for a long time.

My fingers curled and uncurling in the dim, my mind spun. So much for being reborn into a country club family.

There was nothing I could do.

If life gives you lemons, and you’re a baby, you don’t even have teeth to bite back. You just... exist.

To survive, I could only—cry.

I took a deep breath and unleashed the full power of my baby lungs—wailing with all the drama of an Oscar-winning performance. Hey, if you’ve got no words, make some noise.

I don’t know how long I wailed, but eventually, someone noticed something unusual in this run-down alley behind a strip mall.

Somewhere out back, past the buzzing neon of an all-night diner and the dumpsters overflowing with cardboard, I heard footsteps. The kind of alley you’d never walk alone after dark.

The sound of dress shoes scraping the pavement grew closer.

Each step echoed off the brick walls—sharp, expensive, out of place. Whoever it was, they weren’t from around here.

Who could understand the sense of salvation you feel when you finally see the light again?

It was like one of those movie moments when the hero opens the door, sunlight streaming in. Only this time, the hero wore a three-piece suit and a stern expression.

I stared wide-eyed at a middle-aged man in a crisp suit and white gloves.

He looked like he’d stepped straight out of an episode of Downton Abbey, minus the British accent. His shoes were so shiny, I could see my own grubby reflection in them.

A butler! Was it my dear butler come to fetch me?

My heart skipped. Maybe all those daydreams weren’t so far-fetched after all.

I just knew it—I must be the real heiress, switched at birth by a wicked nanny.

I half-expected him to produce a monogrammed baby blanket and whisper, “We’ve finally found you, Miss Harris.”

I eagerly reached out to him.

My arms wobbled in the air, desperate for a rescue worthy of a fairytale.

Quick, take me back to my ten-bedroom house with a backyard pool, so I can enjoy life. Don’t let my mom and dad worry.

Visions of birthday parties, kitchen islands covered in homemade cookies, and a golden retriever named Biscuit flashed before my eyes. I was ready.

A few minutes later, I was in a black luxury SUV.

The seats smelled like leather and money. My feet dangled over the edge, not even reaching the floor mats embroidered with the Harris family crest.

As the Harris family SUV rolled past a Chicago-style pizza joint, I stared, eyes wide, at two high schoolers from a private academy in the back seat.

They wore uniforms pressed so crisp you’d think they’d never sat in a chair. Blazers with embroidered school patches, ties perfectly knotted—a walking ad for elite prep schools.

The butler said awkwardly, “Young Master, Young Miss, there’s a rough neighborhood not far from here and a couple of trade schools. This child is probably an abandoned baby. Should we take her to the police station first?”

He adjusted his gloves, clearly uncomfortable, as if worried I’d leave baby fingerprints on his perfect suit.

Me: “......”

For a moment, I wished I could crawl under the floor mats. Maybe I’d been too hasty about that heiress fantasy.

Yikes.

That’s the American way—just when you think you’ve hit the jackpot, life hands you a reality check.

The two—so stunning they hardly looked real—nodded coldly.

You could practically see the chill in their eyes. Like those fashion magazine models who look like they’ve never eaten a cheeseburger in their life.

The butler smiled in relief. “Then I’ll trouble you both to look after her for now.”

He handed me over like a forgotten purse, already checking his watch for the next errand.

I was stuffed into the young man’s arms. He held me stiffly, at a loss.

His grip was awkward—like holding a ticking time bomb. You could tell he’d never even held a puppy before, let alone a baby.

I’m a sucker for good looks.

Up close, he could’ve been a teen heartthrob straight off Netflix—strong jaw, dark lashes, a gaze that hinted at too many late-night study sessions and not enough sleep.

Seeing a face more perfect than any movie star’s up close, I couldn’t help but reach out to touch it.

He flinched, but didn’t pull away as my sticky fingers brushed his cheek.

Seeing the young woman’s mocking expression, his face darkened instantly.

She quirked one eyebrow, her lips twisting into a smirk that screamed, "As if." The tension spiked—high school drama in a nutshell.

He shoved me into her arms. “So annoying. You hold her.”

His tone was pure older brother: part exasperated, part "I’m too cool for this."

The young woman instantly became just as stiff.

She froze, holding me out at arm’s length like I was a mystery meat sandwich in the school cafeteria.

Looking at the two of them—such similar, breathtaking faces—I couldn’t help but giggle.

My laughter echoed in the car, shattering the icy silence. Even the driver shot a glance in the rearview mirror, barely hiding a smile.

She was unconsciously infected by my laughter. The corners of her lips had just lifted when she caught the young man’s sidelong gaze.

He shot her a look, and she instantly clamped down on the smile, as if happiness was something to be rationed.

She immediately pouted. “She smells like trash. It stinks.”

She pinched her nose dramatically, but the corners of her mouth still twitched. Sibling rivalry, American style.

She set me on the middle seat.

Even as she did, she smoothed the fabric beneath me—a tiny act of reluctant care.

The car was spacious, more than enough for the three of us.

Outside, downtown Chicago scrolled by—skyscrapers, flashing billboards, the honk of cabs. Inside, the silence felt bigger than the car itself.

But at the thought of the miserable life awaiting me at an orphanage, I wailed with all my might.

I let loose, shrieking louder than a fire alarm in a dorm. If they thought they could just pass me along, they had another thing coming.

The young man, annoyed by the noise, picked me up.

He grumbled, but his hands were surprisingly gentle. Clearly, he didn’t want to admit he cared.

Seeing his face, I was delighted and broke into a smile through my tears.

I flashed my biggest, goofiest grin. He looked like he’d just been hit with a glitter bomb.

He set me down—I cried again.

I made sure to ramp up the volume, just to prove my point.

The young woman picked me up—I laughed again.

She hesitated, but when I beamed at her, her face softened—just a bit.

She put me down—I cried again.

By now, the pattern was obvious. I had them dancing to my tune, and I was just getting started.

Suddenly, the two became intrigued.

A competitive glint sparked in their eyes. Sibling rivalry, now with bonus baby. Morgan stuck out her tongue at Ethan, who just rolled his eyes, and the energy in the car shifted from icy to electric.

Like a relay, they picked me up and put me down, again and again.

Soon, it was a full-blown game—each trying to outdo the other in soothing me.

“Hahaha—”

I’d giggle and coo, soaking up the attention like sunshine.

“Waa—”

Then, as soon as they set me down, I’d unleash another round of tears. On repeat.

“Hahaha—”

The car was filled with laughter and my squeals, a soundtrack that made even the butler crack a grin.

“Waa—”

Honestly, it was kind of fun. Maybe this family thing wouldn’t be so bad after all.

After dozens of rounds, the butler’s gentle voice interrupted us.

His voice was the kind you’d expect to hear announcing dinner at a country club. "We’ve arrived at the police station."

“We’ve arrived at the police station.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and final. I knew what was coming, and I wasn’t about to let it happen.

I instantly wailed so loudly it seemed I’d shake the roof off the car.

If there were Olympic medals for baby drama, I’d have gone home with gold. Even the car alarm outside went off in sympathy.

The young man and young woman exchanged glances.

A silent conversation passed between them—one of those sibling moments you only get after years of growing up together.

A few seconds later, they spoke in unison: “Let’s keep her.”

For a second, I thought I’d dreamed it—until Morgan ruffled my hair and Ethan rolled his eyes, like I’d always been there.

There it was—their first real act as a team. My fate was sealed, and I couldn’t have been happier.