Taking the Throne as the Undervalued Miner’s Daughter

When my biological parents found me, I had just crawled out of a mine.

At that time, I was covered in coal dust, filthy and disheveled.

I could tell that my biological parents were disgusted when they looked at me.

Especially my biological father, who said, “Get her another car. Don't let her dirty the family car.”

My biological mother, holding back her disgust, showed concern, “Sweetheart, you've suffered all these years. When you get home and clean up, I will pamper you.”

Then, they rushed into the car.

With them came their adopted son, Alden. He looked at me, then at his own black Maybach and finally sighed, “You can ride with me.”

“There’s a shower at the mine. I’ll clean up and change clothes before getting in,” I answered listlessly, then went to take a shower.

After changing clothes, I got into Alden’s Maybach and we headed to my biological parents' home.

When I arrived at the Spencer house, I didn’t see my biological parents. Instead, I saw someone about my age, named Celia—the fake daughter who had been switched with me back then.

Celia came up to me with a big smile, grabbed my hand and said, “Sherrie, right? Oh, it’s nice to finally meet you, big sis. Don’t worry, I won't play that 'real and fake daughter' drama. From now on, we’re real sisters. Let’s get along well!”

As she spoke, she shoved a fruit knife into my hand and pulled my hand toward her.

——

At our first meeting, Celia placed a fruit knife in my hand and tried to make me stab her.

Was this the Spencer Family’s twisted idea of a welcome?

Thankfully, even though I’m lazy, I’m not weak. Celia didn’t get her way this time. She pulled hard but couldn't move me. When she looked at me again, her eyes blinked innocently. Then she tried pulling again.

I pointed at the phone hanging from my neck and said briefly, “It’s always recording.”

Celia was so frightened that she immediately let go of my hand.

At that moment, Alden, who had parked the car, came in. When he saw the fruit knife in my hand and the fear on Celia’s face, his expression became strange.

I couldn’t be bothered to explain and casually placed the fruit knife back into Celia’s hand.

“Alden, you’re back?” she asked.

“I asked Carol Ann to make you some Caprese salad. I’ll go get it for you.” Celia’s face was full of eagerness to please.

“I’m not hungry,” Alden shook his head and then looked at me. “How about you, Sherrie? Are you hungry?”

“Too lazy to eat.” I walked to the sofa and flopped onto it, pulling out some snacks from my backpack and shoving them into my mouth listlessly.

This was how I lived: sit when I could, lie down when I could sit.

“Tired?” Alden asked with concern.

“I'm fine.” I kept eating, then pulled out my tablet, tapping code with my left hand while scrolling videos on my phone with my right, occasionally stuffing snacks into my mouth.

Alden and Celia stared at me like I’d grown two heads.

Then Celia came over and said, looking very kind, “Sherrie, you've suffered these years and probably haven't lear...