The fake heiress loves to act? The max-level boss isn't interested in playing along.

Fu Chaochao's smile faded, seemingly dissatisfied with Fu Hua's expression.

She thought she would see jealousy on the other person's face, even if it was just a hint.

But no!

It doesn't matter, she doesn't believe she can stay so nonchalant forever.

At noon, the house was quiet.

Fu Xiao and his wife have returned and are taking a nap.

Fu Youchuan also came back from playing ball, took off his sweaty thermal underwear, and prepared to take a good shower.

Fu Songchuan returned at noon and is currently reading in his study downstairs.

Fu Hua did the same, leaning against the headboard, picking up an English version of One Hundred Years of Solitude and reading it silently.

Suddenly, a piercing scream came from the next bedroom.

This was followed by suppressed, broken sobs.

The Fu family all lived on the second floor, so the sound was immediately heard by everyone.

"What's wrong? Chaochao! What happened?"

Su Yurou was almost startled awake. She rushed out without even putting on her coat, wearing only a short-sleeved shirt.

Fu Xiao also suddenly opened his eyes, put on one shoe, and rushed out.

Fu Youchuan, who was about to take a shower, quickly went upstairs upon hearing the sound.

Fu Hua, who was reading, frowned, put down her book, and got up to go outside to check.

In Fu Chaochao's room, she slumped on the floor, in front of her the white brocade dress that had been cut into pieces and turned into a pile of shredded fabric.

She cried her heart out, tears streaming down her face, her shoulders trembling uncontrollably.

"My skirt...my skirt! Waaaaah..."

"What's going on? Chaochao?"

Su Yurou hurriedly asked, her eyes filled with anxiety and worry.

She hugged Fu Chaochao tightly, her voice trembling with heartache.

"Why did you cut your skirt? Tell Mom?"

"It wasn't me, it wasn't me."

Fu Chaochao held up the tattered cloth in her hand, looking at the crowd in despair.

Their gazes finally settled on Fu Hua, who had just appeared, filled with accusation and disbelief.

"Little sister, I didn't know you liked this dress too. You should have just told me, and I would have given it to you. It was originally yours, so why ruin it? It's Mom's hard work."

Fu Youchuan's gaze was like a knife, slicing through Fu Hua.

Gritting her teeth, she said, "You're so malicious! You're jealous of Chaochao! You can't stand to see her have good things, can you? That's just the kind of bad habit you have from the countryside!"

Fu Xiao frowned as he looked at the pile of fragments.

Looking at Fu Hua, who was pale-faced and standing at the bottom of the stairs looking somewhat lost, he asked in a deep voice, "Hua Hua, were you and Chao Chao the only ones home this morning? Were you in your room the whole time?"

"I'm still reading on the sofa," Fu Hua said, her voice hoarse.

A cold laugh rose in my heart; this family was putting on an act again.

She also managed to cosplay the innocent and pitiful image of a real heiress.

"It must have been you, no one else, you're the one who ruined Chaochao's dress."

Fu Youchuan was aggressive, his eyes bloodshot.

This made Fu Hua seem like her father's killer.

What an idiot, to be so hostile to your own sister.

Fu Hua rolled her eyes and silently recited the opening lines of One Hundred Years of Solitude in her mind.

Years later, as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendía would recall that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice…

In short, the past, future, and present are cleverly disrupted.

No wonder it became a classic.

"Mom, Dad..."

Fu Chaochao nestled in Su Yurou's arms, crying so hard she could barely breathe. "I...I had my dress serviced this morning, and when I wore it downstairs, my sister asked me where I bought it. I told her Mom made it, and you can wear it if you like."

My sister said she doesn't like things that other people have worn or used.

Later, I was reading by the bed, and I got a little sleepy, so I took off my clothes and dozed off... When I woke up... I saw my skirt was like this... and the scissors were still next to me.

She was crying so hard that she could barely speak coherently, but the direction she was referring to was terrifyingly clear.

Su Yurou looked at her "daughter" who was crying her eyes out in her arms.

Then look at Fu Hua, who is silent and doesn't fit into this family.

His eyes were filled with disappointment and heartache: "Huahua, I know you may feel unbalanced and think we have wronged you."

How could you... how could you do such a thing? This is your sister's favorite dress! How could you be so... so vicious!

"I'm not that bored."

Fu Hua slightly raised her eyelids, the indifference in her eyes turning into grievance.

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she stubbornly refused to let them fall. "I really didn't cut her skirt! I didn't even go into her room!"

"The evidence is irrefutable! How dare you still try to deny it!"

Fu Youchuan was so angry that he wanted to rush over, but Fu Xiao raised his hand to stop him.

But the way he looked at Fu Hua was also full of disapproval and unease.

Just then, the eldest brother, Fu Songchuan, came out of the study.

He clearly heard everything.

His gaze swept over the pile of glaring white fragments on the ground, then over Fu Chaochao's "heartbroken" face.

Finally, the focus shifted to Fu Hua's stubborn expression as she fought back tears.

He slowly walked over, not looking at anyone, but squatted down.

He carefully examined the pile of rags and the scissors that had been thrown aside.

After a while, he stood up, his tone as calm as if he were discussing the weather.

To Fu Chaochao, who was still sobbing, he said, "Chaochao, you said you woke up to find your skirt cut, and the scissors were right next to you?"

Fu Chaochao paused in her sobbing and gave a nasal "hmm".

Fu Songchuan nodded, as if casually mentioning, "Oh, maybe I misheard."

I was in my study just now when I thought I heard the sound of cutting something next door. It was intermittent and lasted for a while. I thought you were doing crafts in your room.

As he spoke, his gaze swept lightly over Fu Chaochao's dominant left hand.

He casually moved the scissors aside and added, "But I'm using these scissors a bit awkwardly. The cuts aren't very clean, especially on the piece of fabric near the shoulder; it's like I can't apply any force."

Fu Chaochao usually uses her left hand, only using her right hand when holding scissors.

But it never feels as good as my left hand, so it looks like I can't exert any force.

So, the clothes were cut like those of a left-handed person who is dominant in the left hand.

Fu Hua is right-handed.

Fu Chaochao's crying stopped abruptly, and her expression changed slightly.

He subconsciously pulled his left hand behind his back.

Fu Songchuan's words were extremely veiled, without directly identifying anyone.

It only provides a detail of "hearing a sound" and a trivial "observation".

He was giving his parents and younger brother a hint: how could someone who was truly asleep and was startled awake be holding scissors?

Does the unnatural cut indicate an awkward posture of the operator?

However, the family members, swayed by their emotions, did not understand.

Or rather, they are unwilling to think about it deeply.

Su Yurou impatiently said to Song Chuan, "Song Chuan, stop making things worse! Your sister is already so heartbroken, and you're still saying these pointless things!"

Fu Youchuan was even more direct: "Brother! What do you mean? Did Chaochao cut it herself? Don't you know how much she likes this dress?"

Fu Xiao waved his hand, clearly believing that his eldest son was favoring his younger sister.

He only mentioned useless details: "Alright, Song Chuan, say no more."