Summary
I was precocious from an early age.
The day I found out I wasn’t my parents’ real daughter, I went and dyed my hair blond.
When my brother finally tracked down his runaway sister, I gave him a solemn explanation.
“According to the Blond Delinquent Rule, every good girl and rich young heiress comes with a blond troublemaker she can’t get rid of.
Now I’m the blond troublemaker.
When the real daughter comes home, you’re all stuck with me for life.”
My brother’s face darkened.
Then he shouted in despair.
“You’re FIVE!
Who said we were getting rid of you?
What godforsaken hairstylist dyed my five-year-old sister’s hair blond?!”