Chapter 1

A month earlier, I had watched a TV drama about switched-at-birth heiresses.

Half-joking, I had teased my father, asking what he would do if I turned out to be the fake one.

He just ruffled my hair, smiling indulgently. "Real or fake, you'll always be my daughter."

But today, he had flung a DNA report onto the table and said coldly, "Charlotte, you're not my child. Years ago, the nurse mixed up my daughter at the hospital. Your real parents are waiting outside. Pack your things and leave."

Behind my mother stood a girl, Sophie Grant, who looked timid and uneasy. "Mom, Dad, is it really okay to... to kick Charlotte out like this?"

My supposed sister, Olivia Grant, shot Sophie a sharp glare. "Are you stupid? She stole your life as a rich girl for all these years, and you're still speaking up for her? What an idiot."

And yet, I caught Sophie smirking ever so slightly behind my mother.

*****

Less than a minute after reading the DNA report, I had calmly accepted the fact that I was not a Grant.

I went upstairs, packed my bags, and came back down to slip on my shoes.

Olivia was eating watermelon, shooting me a look full of disdain. "Open her suitcase," she told the butler. "Make sure she doesn't take anything that doesn't belong to her. I've heard her real parents are dirt-poor. Anything from our house could keep them fed for a month."

My mother, Helen Grant, hesitated, lips parting as if she wanted to say something, but in the end, she only sighed twice.

I stood off to the side, not even bothering to argue.

Olivia had always had it out for me, all because I got better grades, and I outshone her at everything.

I was always one step ahead, and people in our circle loved comparing us.

Given a chance to humiliate me, she would never let it slip.

Once the butler saw my suitcase only had some clothes and books, Olivia finally backed off.

As the fake heiress, I wasn't even worth the courtesy of a butler seeing me out.

When I opened the door, a couple stood outside, dressed in coarse linen. Their skin was rough, yet their features were striking.

The woman stepped forward, nervously rubbing her hands together. "You're Charlotte, right? I'm your... mother."

I nodded and smiled softly. "Dad. Mom."

They smiled back, but their eyes held a mix of emotions I couldn't quite figure out. "Let's go home first," they said.

We walked through winding streets and narrow alleys. Old shops lined the lanes, weeds grew between cracked tiles, and here and there, green vines spilled out from small courtyards.

I followed them back to a rented three-bedroom apartment in an urban village.

The place was small, and it was obvious an extra room had been awkwardly carved out.

"Charlotte, this is your room. We changed the sheets and everything. It's not fancy, but you can settle in for now," said my father, Michael Sinclair, sounding a bit nervous and careful.

I looked up. The bedsheets were soft pink, clean, and cozy. Someone had clearly put thought into it. It felt warm—nothing like the coldness of the Grant family home.

"Thank you, Dad and Mom," I said honestly. "I really like it."

They both breathed a sigh of relief and gave me a quick intro to the family.

My eldest brother, Alexander, was in graduate school. My second brother, William, had just gotten into college. And then there was my twin brother, Lucas, who was a few minutes older than me.

Just before dinner, Lucas came rushing in from outside. The moment he saw me, he froze on the spot. "Mom... is this... pretty girl really my little sister?"

I guessed all mothers were the same.

My mother, Melissa Sinclair, grabbed his ear and tugged it lightly. "Keep your voice down. Don't scare your sister. Can't you ever act normal?"

I couldn't help but giggle. "That's right," I said. "I'm your real sister."

The next second, Lucas crowded over, firing questions at me one after another.

I answered every single one.

In the end, he sighed and said, "Man, having my real sister here just feels right, you know? Sophie nags all day long at home, complains that we're poor, nitpicks everything, and keeps saying she was born for a rich life.

"But hey, Charlotte, don't sweat it. Even if we're not rolling in cash right now, Mom and Dad always said that as long as we study hard, things will get better. One day, we'll be doing just fine."

I shot him a look full of reassurance. The idea that education could change your life wasn't just a saying—it rang true.

My biological parents might not have had money, but they took education seriously. Otherwise, Alexander wouldn't have become the top science scorer in the whole province, and William wouldn't have ranked in the top ten in the college entrance exam and been admitted straight into university.

That night, I dreamed about my three brothers. In the dream, Alexander became a real estate tycoon and later the richest man in North City. William was a total superstar in showbiz, with tens of millions of fans. And Lucas became a world-class doctor, winning awards one after another.

When I woke up the next morning, I still felt completely dazed. That dream—how could something so fake feel so real?

I just shrugged it off. Lucas gave me a lift on his bike, and we cruised to school with the morning breeze in our faces.

As soon as we got to the school gate, I spotted my best friend, Emily Brooks, and jogged over, slightly out of breath, to say hi.

She, however, sidestepped three whole steps away from me like she couldn't get away from me fast enough. "Don't come near me. We don't know each other."

I was baffled. I seriously wanted to knock some sense into her head. We'd been inseparable since middle school—best friends for three years.

But it clicked almost instantly. Emily was acting again. We'd always loved reenacting dramatic TV scenes together, so I played along. "Oh! Ms. Brooks, have you really forgotten your favorite little sister? My heart is shattered. What am I supposed to do now?"

I pretended to frown, pressed a hand to my forehead, and wiped off imaginary sweat.

Just then, a classmate walked by and sneered, "Idiot, can't you see she's ditching you now that everyone knows you're not a Grant?"

I glanced at Emily in confusion, but she bolted.