The Heiress's Project

My name is Cindy Lincoln, and I've been grinding at Glory Group for five years. Starting as an intern handling menial tasks in the break room, I worked my way up to sales supervisor. The calluses on my palms came from repeatedly revising proposals, and the thick attendance sheets in my desk drawer bear marks of me arriving earliest and leaving last every day. These are the proof of my effort. Three months ago, I had just signed a million-dollar deal. While organizing client files at my computer, my phone suddenly lit up with an unknown number. On the other end was an elderly man with a steady voice, who claimed to be Mr. Quiller, the Lincoln Family's longtime butler. He said that twenty years ago, the Lincoln Family lost a newborn daughter. Based on the clues from that time, I am very likely that child. He hopes I will cooperate with a paternity test. The fingers holding the phone tightened instantly, the coldness of the screen seeping through my skin straight to my heart. The Lincoln Family, that top-tier wealthy family I'd only ever seen in financial news—how could they possibly be connected to me, someone who grew up in an orphanage and worked her way through university? I hesitated for three days. I was busy handling project wrap-ups during the day and tossing and turning at night. On one hand, there was the stable job and the position of sales supervisor I had worked five years to earn; on the other, a sudden revelation about my "identity." What if it was all a misunderstanding? It wouldn't just delay my work, it would be a complete disappointment. But deep down, there was a voice shouting—that instinctive longing for "home" and "family." In the end, I still submitted a leave of absence request for a week, citing "personal urgent matters" as the reason. When I handed in the request, I made sure to do a work handover with Mary Scott—she joined six months ago and, relying on her distant relation to Felix Shawn, came in with the title of assistant supervisor. Recently, thanks to a few lucky follow-ups, she was even promoted beyond the norm to deputy supervisor by Felix Shawn. "Cindy, don't worry. I'll definitely keep an eye on this project." Mary Scott smiled sweetly, but her gaze drifted toward the client folder on my desk. "I've signed the handover checklist, and all materials are backed up to the shared drive. There won't be any problems." At the time, I even reminded her specifically, "The partner on this project values details a lot, especially the cost accounting sheet and timeline planning. If you're unsure about anything, call me anytime." She just waved me off confidently. "Don't worry, I got all this. Just focus on your things." Looking back now, her perfunctory attitude was an early hint of what was to come. The identification process was simpler than I had imagined. At the private hospital arranged by Mr. Quiller, the blood draw and sample collection took less than half an hour. At the end, Mr. Quiller handed me a black card and said it was a small token from Mr. Lincoln and Mrs. Lincoln, suggesting I use it for now. I politely declined—I wasn't after money; I wanted a truth that was twenty years overdue, an answer that would let me know who I am. A week later, the DNA results still hadn't come in, but I got a reminder from the company HR to return. Thinking the project couldn't be delayed, I went back to the company a day early. As soon as I stepped into the office area, Felix Shawn's secretary stopped me with a serious tone: "Ms. Lincoln, Mr. Shawn is waiting for you in the conference room, with all the department heads present. You'd better go right away." My heart skipped a beat—a bad feeling washed over me as I quickly made my way to the meeting room. The moment I pushed open the door, a stifling atmosphere hit me like a wall. Felix Shawn sat in the main seat, his face so pale it looked as if it might drip water. When he saw me enter, he slammed a stack of documents onto the table with a loud crack that made the windows vibrate. "Cindy Lincoln! Do you even care about this company?" He pointed at my nose as he scolded me, spittle nearly flying onto my face. "You skipped work for an entire week without any reason, delaying a key project. Our partner pulled out their investment, causing a direct financial loss of five million. Can you afford that?" I was stunned, my mind completely blank. That project had clearly been officially handed over to Mary Scott before I took leave. Her signature was on the handover checklist, and all the materials were fully backed up. So how could it be pinned on me? "Mr. Shawn,I submitted a leave of absence request, and the project was handed over to Supervisor Mary." I forced down the grievance and panic welling up inside me, struggling to keep my voice steady.