The Socialite and the Scavenger

I was once a New York socialite. Now, I was a ghost eating garbage from a dumpster behind the building that still bore my family’s name.

Then I heard his voice. Brigham. My former lover, my step-brother, the man I had come back for.

He was on the phone with Eve, the woman who had stolen my life, my family, and my face.

He saw me, a disfigured heap of rags, and his face filled with disgust. He told his assistant to give me money and "get this filth off company property."

For a fleeting moment, he saw the infinity tattoo on my wrist—our secret promise of forever. He even whispered my name, "Eloise?"

But then he shook his head, dismissing the impossible. He turned his back on me, walking away without a second glance. That final rejection broke the last piece of my soul.

I walked to the Brooklyn Bridge and let go.

Just as my body hit the cold water, a doctor was on the phone with Brigham, his voice trembling with the results of a new DNA test. The original test, the one that had destroyed my life, was a fake. I was the true heiress all along.