The Unbothered Heiress and Her Grumpy System

The moment I discovered I was the billionaire heiress swapped at birth, a voice chimed in my head. [Shouldn't you be furious that your bio parents favor the fake daughter?] "It makes total sense.

People get emotionally attached to stray dogs and cats, let alone a human they've raised for eighteen years." [Shouldn't you hold a grudge because your fiancé looks down on you?] "Again, completely normal.

I'd be pissed too if someone forced me to marry a total stranger." [When your classmates mock your cheap trailer park accent, shouldn't you want to knock their teeth down their throats?] "It's fair game.

Even I want to laugh at my own accent sometimes. You can't police what people find funny." The system flatlined. [I can't work with this.

Since when did I get paired with Mother Teresa?] Chapter 1 On my eighteenth birthday, the family's private lawyer tracked me down with a DNA report in hand, dropping the bomb that I was the real billionaire heiress swapped at birth.

On the ride back to my new "home," a sharp ding echoed in my head. The system, who introduced himself as Roman, logged online.

It gave me the rundown: I'd step into that house only to be completely ignored by my parents, tossed aside like yesterday's trash.

That billionaire fiancé I was tied to through a corporate trust fund marriage would despise the sight of me, making my life a living hell at every turn.

And then, eaten alive by depression, I’d develop stomach cancer and die full of bitter regret.

Only then would my parents and my fiancé finally wake up and drown in their own guilt. [To help you transform into the true Queen of the Upper East Side and crush those hypocritical snobs under your heels, I will guide you every step of the way to the absolute peak of your life!] I leaned against the car door, my eyelids heavy. "Oh.

Thanks." [Are you not thrilled? Hyped? We are talking about a total life reset!

A cheat code for reality! …Why do you look like you're already dead on the inside?] I let out a silent breath. "If you had to wake up at four in the morning to scrub motel sheets stained with mystery fluids, rush to school by sixthirty, eat someone else's leftover cereal for lunch just to save a buck, and then spend four hours frying potatoes at a drivethru after the final bell… you'd want to die too." [As expected of the female lead!

So resilient! You aren't even cursing at the universe?!] I cracked a dry smile. Over the past sixteen years, I had flipped destiny the bird more times than I could count.

When I realized it didn't do a damn thing, I just stopped. It wasn't that I gave up fighting, I was just fresh out of moves.

Keeping up that halfassed banter, I eventually passed out against the cold window.

When I opened my eyes, the car was already rolling onto a sprawling estate that seemed to stretch on forever.

The driver pulled my door open. "We've arrived, Miss." Three people stood waiting by the driveway—a flawlessly groomed middleaged couple, and a girl who looked like she stepped straight out of a fairy tale.

The system filled me in. They were my biological mother and father, along with Vivienne, the fake heiress who took my place.

After trading some stiff, polite greetings, they led me inside the mansion. The massive dining table groaned under the weight of a custom, highend French spread. My stomach roared.

My eyes instantly locked onto a dripping, thickcut tomahawk steak and a platter of lobster rolls. After dinner, my mother had a maid show me to my room on the second floor.

The second the door clicked shut, I divebombed onto the massive, cloudlike mattress. My muscles melted. Just as I was drifting off, the system screeched in my ear. [I am furious!

Furious! This is complete bullshit! Sloane, just say the word, and I will shock your parents right now!] I poked my head out from the duvet, blinking. "Huh?

Why?" [What do you mean 'why'?! Did you completely miss what just happened?

During dinner, your parents not only let the fake daughter take the head of the table, but they specifically ordered the staff to serve her a totally exclusive portion of expensive white truffle caviar!

They treated you like you were entirely invisible!] I chewed on that for a second, scratching my head. Chapter 2 "It's totally normal.

My plate was already piled so high it was basically a mountain.

If they tried to add anything else, it would've spilled right off." [And because they were terrified of hurting the fake heiress's fragile feelings, they didn't even bother to ask if you were exhausted from the drive.

Not a single word of concern!] "Normal again. I was way too busy inhaling that food.

Even if they had asked, I wouldn't have had the mouth space to answer." [The absolute worst part is that your room is only a third the size of hers!

There's a much bigger guest suite right next door, but they shoved you in here.

They're clearly terrified of upsetting Vivienne's precious ego!] I rolled over on the massive mattress. "I think it's great.

If the room is too huge, making a run for the bathroom takes way too long." Besides, I used to sleep on a moldy, springbusted sofa back in the trailer park.

Now I have my own private bedroom in a place that looks exactly like a Beverly Hills mansion. This is basically like winning the Powerball lottery, okay?!

A sudden burning smell hit my nose. I shot up in bed. "Is something on fire?!" [No!

That’s just my circuits literally smoking from rage!] Not wanting to trigger another one of his digital tantrums, I tuned him out, dragged myself into the ensuite bathroom for a hot soak, and slept like the dead from ten at night straight through to seven the next morning.

When I finally pried my eyes open, I felt like I had ascended to heaven. "So this is what hitting your daily calorie and sleep goals actually feels like." [Pathetic.] Ignoring his constant need to complain, I threw on some clothes and headed downstairs.

The massive living room was empty. I wandered out through the French doors and spotted the estate manager out by the hedges.

He caught sight of me and offered a polite nod. "You're up quite early, Miss Sloane. You must be exhausted from the long drive yesterday.

You should have slept in." I reached over, helping him adjust a heavy ceramic planter. "I'm a heavy sleeper. One hour for me is like three for a normal person.

Honestly, this is sleeping in." I kept chatting with him while we worked on the landscaping.

By the time nine o'clock rolled around, the private chef had a massive breakfast spread ready in the dining room.

My parents eventually came downstairs, but there was no sign of Vivienne. Catching my subtle glance at the empty chair, my father chuckled. "Vivienne is our little sleepyhead.

She absolutely refuses to drag herself out of bed before tenthirty." I took a long sip of my rich whole milk and bit into a freshly baked croissant.

The sheer luxury of it all almost made my brain shortcircuit.

I didn't even process the hidden meaning behind his words and just gave a breezy nod. [Are you kidding me right now?!] Roman exploded in my skull again.

I jumped, my hand jerking hard enough to splash a few drops of milk onto the polished mahogany table. [Why is he flexing that?!

While their precious fake daughter is getting her beauty rest on Egyptian silk sheets, you were already unloading two entire pallets of inventory at the discount grocery store!] I tried to soothe Roman in my head. "Calm down.

Everyone has different internal clocks." "Some people are night owls, some are early birds.

Even if you slipped me a handful of sleeping pills, I'd still be wide awake by now." My parents caught my sudden flinch and the spilled milk.

They exchanged a quick, loaded look across the table, their expressions tightening.

My mother set a perfectly peeled hardboiled egg on my side plate. "Sloane," she started, her voice dropping to a soft, careful tone. "Did you sleep well last night?

Is there anything you're having trouble adjusting to?" "I noticed your clothes seem… a bit snug.

How about I take you shopping today?" I glanced down at my faded sweatshirt, tugging at the sleeves that were riding dangerously close to my elbows.

I rattled off quick, polite answers to her questions. My father slid a sleek, metallic card across the table. "This is your allowance.

If you see anything you like, just swipe it." I gave a firm nod.

I opened my mouth to thank them, but before I could get the words out, Vivienne finally floated down the grand staircase.

Chapter 3 Vivienne stumbled down, her eyes halfclosed, and threw herself right onto my mother, wrapping her arms around her neck like a velcro girlfriend. "Mom, my head is pounding." My mother instantly pressed her forehead against Vivienne’s. "Oh my goodness, you're burning up!

You're definitely running a fever!" she fussed. "I told you yesterday to throw on that Hermès shawl after the pool party, but you wouldn't listen." "Now look at you, freezing yourself into a fever." Vivienne just batted her huge, innocent eyes.

Instead of arguing back, she just whined, "My head hurts so much. I feel awful." My father pushed his chair back, rushed over, and leaned down. "Come here.

Let Dad carry you upstairs to rest. I'll have the private doctor come by." Vivienne naturally leaned into my father’s chest.

My mother, hovering like Vivienne was made of spun glass, kept a protective hand on her back so she wouldn't slip.

The three of them murmured soft comforts to each other as they disappeared up the stairs. [Look at that! Look at this manipulative little snake!

Your parents gave you two seconds of attention, and she instantly pulls a stunt to steal them away!

This is pure outr—Are you seriously still eating?!] I was already getting used to Roman's sudden digital meltdowns.

I calmly cleared my plate and carried it into the kitchen to rinse it off. "It's completely normal. She has a fever." "People get really needy when they're sick.

Of course she wants her mom and dad to baby her." [Well, when you were sick, you didn't have a mom and dad babying you!] That couldn't be helped.

My adoptive parents died in a car crash when I was five. It wasn't that they didn't want to be there; they physically couldn't.

I shook the excess water off the plate and slid it into the cabinet rack. "I have a tough immune system. I rarely get sick.

And I heal fast." "Even if I do catch something, it's gone in a day.

I don't need anyone hovering over me." Since Vivienne was sick, my mother obviously didn't have time to take me shopping.

So I hit the mall by myself, letting Roman play personal stylist while I picked out a few outfits.

When I swiped the card at the register, Roman sounded genuinely shocked. [I didn't actually expect you to shop here.

I honestly thought you'd hit the Walmart clearance racks and fill a cart with fivedollar tshirts.] I had already changed into one of the new outfits.

The fabric was crisp, the tailoring sharp, making me look instantly polished.

The saying about clothes making the person was definitely legit. "It's not that cheap clothes are automatically bad, and it's not like I'm letting this new money go to my head." I held up the sleek black card. "No family, no matter how rich, just tosses an unlimited Amex Black Card to a kid for allowance.

My parents are doing this as a peace offering." "If I took this much cash and still acted like a tragic charity case, dressing like a scrub to farm sympathy… I’d be making them uncomfortable and making myself miserable for no reason.

Only a psycho would play it like that." [You…] "What?" [You aren't totally braindead after all.] I rolled my eyes. "Gee, thanks." When I walked back through the front door, there was a guy sitting on the living room sofa.

Hearing me come in, he turned around. [Tristan. The male lead of this novel. Your official, legallybinding fiancé.] Look, we are way past the era of arranged marriages.

Even if it was a corporate merger masked as a wedding, Vivienne was the one who had been the face of the family this whole time. They were childhood sweethearts.

It was like watching a Disney prince and princess. Me crashing their perfect little narrative? That was just messy.

The fact that they merely despised me was honestly showing a lot of restraint.

I planned to just throw up a hand in greeting and head straight upstairs, but Tristan actually spoke first. "Hhello." […What the hell is he blushing for?

What a total freak.] Chapter 4 [I remember in the original plot, he disliked you at first. He thought you looked poor, tacky, and completely unpresentable.

It wasn't until your shared birthday party with Vivienne, when you showed up in full glam, that he… I know why.

Because you're wearing your new clothes and you actually look hot now.

What a superficial pig!] Tristan cleared his throat, forcing his voice back to a normal pitch. "And you are?" "Sloane." The second he heard the name, it clicked.

His face instantly iced over. [Bro, is he psycho? He flips faster than a reality TV star.] "It's totally normal.

Anyone would be pissed if they suddenly found out their fiancée was being swapped out." Finding someone physically attractive is one thing.

Realizing that same attractive person is about to crash like a meteor into your perfectly planned life is another.

Love at first sight only works if the other person isn't a walking threat to your existence.

I actually wanted to pull Tristan aside and tell him I had zero interest in him, that he could go ahead and live happily ever after with Vivienne.

But it wasn't the time, and I definitely didn't have the standing to do it, so I let it drop.

I was just about to turn and head upstairs when Vivienne’s sugary sweet voice echoed down. "Tristan!" Then she practically skipped down the steps. [What the f—!

Wasn't she just so sick she had to be carried? Now she's doing cardio!] "Some people just have great genes.

Fast recovery rate." Vivienne ran over, grabbing Tristan's sleeve and giving it a gentle tug. "I'm ready.

The Coachella VIP party is about to start, let's go." Tristan's gaze lingered on me for a split second longer.

Vivienne followed his eyes, and instantly her expression shifted into a timid, deerintheheadlights look. "Sloane, do you… want to come with us?" I smiled and waved her off. "No thanks.

I'm not really into the music scene." "I'd probably just fall asleep. You guys go ahead and have fun." [What a fake! VIP festival wristbands are sold out months in advance.

She’s asking you right now, but what if you actually said yes?] [Is she going to hand over her own ticket? Or just awkwardly reject you to make you look stupid?

Total hypocrite!] As I climbed the stairs, I actually found Roman’s endless ranting kind of entertaining. "Why do you get triggered so easily?

It was just basic politeness." "What else was she supposed to do? See me standing right here and just walk out holding his hand without a word?

That would be way more awkward." [I just can't stand people like that! If you have something to say, say it to my face.

Playing mind games and treating everyone else like idiots!] [Doesn't this piss you off?

If it does, say the word and I'll zap them.] I pressed my palms together like I was praying. "Please.

If you keep throwing these tantrums, you're going to drain the Earth's power grid.

I don't hate them, honestly." "When someone’s peaceful little bubble gets popped, their natural instinct is to put their guard up.

I think it makes total sense." [I think you're just a massive peoplepleaser.] "Well, I think you're just a massive hater." [You only ever talk back to me!] I hung up my new clothes and sat back on the thick carpet. "Alright, alright.

Stop popping a blood vessel over every little thing." "Hasn't your motherboard fried itself like three times already? Is it really safe to keep doing that?" Roman ignored me.

I thought for a second. "Tell you what, I'll give you a riddle to cool off your CPU." Roman bit.

Chapter 5 [What the hell does a riddle have to do with cooling down my CPU?] "Just listen. What's green, fuzzy, and will absolutely kill you if it drops on you from a tree?

No searching your database. You have to think." Roman processed it for a moment. [I don't know. What is it?] I dropped the punchline. "A pool table." [I'm actually much cooler now.

Thanks.] "You're welcome." At the dinner table that night, my parents lit up when they saw me in my new outfit. "Sloane, you have excellent taste.

That dress perfectly complements your aura." I smiled politely, mentally thanking Roman for the styling. "Thank you, Mother." Maybe because Vivienne wasn't hovering around, my mother actually slid into the chair next to mine.

She reached out, covering my hand with hers. "I’ll take you to the best salon in Beverly Hills for a full styling package soon, and we’ll hit Rodeo Drive while we're at it.

You have such a beautiful foundation; it’s a shame not to elevate it." I gave a steady nod. Just then, the heavy front door swung open.

The second the sound hit, my mother subtly withdrew her hand and shifted back to her own side of the long table.

Vivienne kicked off her designer flats, practically skipping into the dining room, and planted a kiss right on my mother's cheek. "You're in a fantastic mood," my mother beamed.

Vivienne was practically glowing. "I am! Maestro Claude's set was unreal.

It's such a shame you and Dad missed it!" "Next time, our family of three has to go together, okay?" [Family of how many?!

I swear to—] My mother patted Vivienne's arm, her gaze flicking quickly to me. "Of course. Next time, our family of four will go together.

Sloane, you've never been to a music festival, have you?" […That's slightly better.] I suppressed a laugh and nodded. "That sounds great." After two days of lounging around the mansion, my enrollment paperwork was finalized.

Supposedly to help me adapt to my new life "faster and better," my parents intentionally pulled strings to place Vivienne and me in the exact same school, in the exact same class.

The next morning, I finished breakfast and sat downstairs reviewing SAT prep materials for a solid thirty minutes before Vivienne finally dashed down the stairs.

She shoved a piece of toast into her mouth and bolted out the door, diving into the waiting stretch Lincoln. I kept my headphones on and reviewed vocabulary the entire ride.

After finishing her toast, Vivienne just leaned back and closed her eyes, making it painfully obvious she had zero intention of speaking to me.

When the car finally pulled up to the curb, she tossed a quick "Bye" to the private driver and practically sprinted out.

I packed up my earbuds and notebooks, taking my time climbing out of the car.

I didn't bother trying to catch up, deliberately letting the distance between us widen. [What is her deal? She's dodging you like you're the plague.

Like anyone actually wants to be seen with her!

I bet she's just terrified someone will ask who you are and expose her as the fake heiress!] Vivienne's figure quickly vanished into the crowd of students, completely ditching the instructions my parents gave her about walking me to the administration office. [Great.

Now she's totally gone. Aren't you stressing out? Do you even know where the admin building is?] I shook my head. "Nope.

But you definitely do." [You are literally just using me as a cheat code, aren't you?] The homeroom teacher led me into the classroom.

Vivienne was in the middle of handing out worksheets. Her eyes snagged on me for a fraction of a second before darting away.

There was only one empty seat left in the room—in the very last row, right next to Tristan. The teacher pointed me toward it.

The second the teacher stepped out, the room erupted into whispers. "Who is she? Who transfers in the middle of senior year?" "No idea. Dropping straight into an AP class?

She's definitely a legacy or her parents dropped a massive donation check." Chapter 6 "Oh, definitely a legacy admit!

I heard she's got some deep ties to Vivienne's family." All eyes immediately snapped to Vivienne.

She was up at the smartboard, fiddling with the multimedia setup, her eyes darting around. All the color drained from her face.

She bit her lower lip, her gaze flickering before she gave a stiff nod. "Sloane is… a distant relative of my family." My stomach did a sharp, sickening flip.

A collective, relieved whisper rippled through the classroom. [What a manipulative snake! What the hell does she mean by that?

Is she that desperate to draw a line between you two so she doesn't expose her real identity?

Branding you as some charitycase distant relative so the whole class looks down on you, killing their curiosity so she can keep basking in her fake heiress halo?!] Here we go again. "Preach it somewhere else, Pastor," I muttered in my head.

Roman went silent. "Do you want another riddle?" […Pass.] But honestly, after Roman's little digital meltdown, that heavy knot in my stomach just vanished.

This place was a toptier Ivy League prep school.

The teaching style was a completely different universe compared to my old underfunded public school, and the foreign language classes were straightup nativelevel elite debates.

I used to think my language skills were pretty decent. But back at my old ghetto public school, the language classes were a total joke.

The teachers only drilled the most basic vocabulary, and there was absolutely zero conversational practice.

So, even though I had always pulled straight A's, there was no way I could stand up at that podium and deliver a fluent introduction with that fake, oldmoney accent they all had.

My introduction, thick with a cheap trailer park accent, triggered an explosion of laughter across the room. "What the hell?

I feel like I just got dropped from the Manhattan Upper East Side straight onto a Texas redneck farm." "Does she have a speech impediment?

Why does her mouth move like that?" "I'm dying. Is this a bit? She should do standup." "Vivienne, what kind of backwoods swamp did your family dig this relative out of—Ah, fuck!

What just shocked me?!" The guy who had been laughing the loudest yanked off his headphones, inspecting them like they had just bit him, but he couldn't find any frayed wires. [That'll shut his trash mouth.

Who else is pissing you off… You know what, screw it.

I'm frying all of them…] Before I could even formulate a thought to stop him, a chorus of "Fucks" and "Shits" erupted across the entire classroom, including a yelp from the completely innocent language teacher. [Pushed a little too much voltage on that one.] The teacher frantically collected all the headsets, terrified of another electrical short.

I sank into my chair, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. [How are you laughing right now?!

Did you hear what they just called you?!] I told Roman to replay my introduction from the podium, piping the audio straight into my brain where only we could hear it.

By the time the playback ended, my shoulders were literally shaking. "I swear, when I was up there, I didn't think I had an accent at all." How did it sound so thick from a thirdperson perspective?!

I sounded exactly like the asthmatic old goat back at the farm. [Unbelievable. Who actually laughs at themselves?] Suddenly, someone tapped my shoulder.

A low, hesitant voice murmured near my ear. "Hey. Stop crying." "If it's really that bad, I can… I can tutor you later.

You just…" I lifted my head, turned around, and stared blankly at Tristan. His hand hovered in midair.

He froze. "You aren't crying?" I blinked. "Why would I be crying?" His brow furrowed hard. "Weren't you… Never mind." He dropped his arm, buried his face into the crook of his elbow, and seemingly passed out on his desk.

Chapter 7 After getting home, I put on the audio loops and practiced my pronunciation to catch up with the curriculum. [Your pronunciation is off.] "Where?" Roman replayed the audio file, and I repeated after him. [Wrong.

Press the root of your tongue down.] I tried a few times, moving my mouth awkwardly. "…How do I press it down?" Suddenly, a phantom weight pressed heavily onto my tongue. [Right here.

Press it down.] Heat instantly exploded across my face