Chapter 1
I grew up in the slums, surviving by scavenging through trash.
On my eighteenth birthday, a flood of comments popped up right in front of my eyes.
One read: [Damn, Nathan Sherman's real daughter is still eating trash to survive? This experiment is savage!]
Another read: [Nathan swapped his twin daughters' lives to test nature vs. nurture: the real heiress grew up in the slums, while the adopted one lived in luxury.]
A comment read: [Now, the adopted daughter, Sophia Davis, is worth billions, but Sylvia Lynch is still digging through dumpsters. The difference couldn't be clearer.]
I wiped my hands and glanced across at the mall's LED wall.
Sophia's name blazed above her face, hawking luxury.
She glowed like a cut diamond; I was the dusty rock no one would ever polish.
One comment read: [The necklace Sophia is wearing today is the Heart of the Ocean. It sold for 30 million at auction, and Nathan bought it as an exclusive coming-of-age gift for her.]
Another read: [And what did Sylvia get for her coming-of-age? A slap from her adoptive mom, who called her a worthless burden.]
A comment read: [That's just brutal. Honestly, the comparison really stings.]
Those live comments were like needles, jabbing straight into my head, one after another.
I lowered my head, staring down at a half-moldy piece of bread lying in the trash can.
Yep, that was my dinner for tonight.
A shrill female voice yelled from behind me, "Sylvia! Where the hell have you been? I asked for ketchup twenty minutes ago! You too busy dumpster diving to do your damn job?"
It was my adoptive mom, Fiona White.
She came charging over, yanked my hair, and shoved my head right into the trash can.
She snapped, "Just like your useless mom, you filthy lowlife! All you ever do is stuff your face, mooching off us while you sit on your ass. Why don't you make yourself useful for once, or just get the hell out!"
The sharp edge of the metal trash can banged against the corner of my brow, sending a jolt of pain through me.
The metallic tang of blood flooded my mouth.
The comments popped up.
One read: [Here we go again, another round of daily misery.]
Another read: [Fiona is a total nightmare. Seriously, where did Nathan even find someone like her?]
A comment read: [All for the sake of making the experiment real. They really went all out to make her life as hellish as possible.]
I didn't fight back.
Eighteen years of this, and I'd long stopped fighting back.
When Fiona finally ran out of insults, she spat at me and strutted off, hips swaying.
She said, "No dinner for you tonight. Get lost."
I leaned against the wall and slowly got to my feet.
Just then, a black Bentley glided to a silent stop right in front of me.
The window rolled down, showing off a face with perfectly done makeup.
It was Sophia's chief assistant, Emily Green.
She'd been featured in countless business magazines, always carrying herself like she was untouchable.
Right then, she wrinkled her nose and shot me a disgusted look, sizing me up like I was something she'd scraped off her shoe.
Emily said, "So you're Sylvia?"
I met her gaze in silence, not saying a word.
One comment popped up, reading: [The real deal just showed up.]
Another read: [She is ready to deliver the humiliation. I remember this scene. Things are about to get intense!]
Emily pulled out a luxuriously packaged food box from the car and tossed it carelessly onto the ground.
The food spilled everywhere, mixing with the muddy water.
Emily said, "Sophia was worried you might go hungry."
Her tone was gentle, almost like she was soothing a pet.
She added, "She said these are leftovers from her party, and she specially packed them for you.
"She also said you should get used to how it tastes. Stuff from the trash all tastes the same anyway, right?"
With that, she stifled a giggle, her eyes full of mockery.
Emily said, "Oh, and by the way, Sophia's streaming live right now. She wants you to say hi to her fans."
She angled the phone screen toward me.
On the screen, Sophia was perched in a gleaming, high-end room, beaming at the camera with a sugary smile.
The live chat was blowing up, comments scrolling by like crazy.
One read: [Sophia is such a saint, still thinking about Sylvia from the dumps.]
Another read: [Oh my god, she's so filthy. Stay away from her!]
A comment read: [Make her eat that food. Make her eat off the ground like an animal! I wanna see that!]
Sophia's voice floated out of the phone, sounding innocent but with a touch of cruel playfulness.
She said, "Come on, Sylvia, eat up. Don't let my thoughtful gesture go to waste.
"Everyone's watching, you know. You wouldn't want to let Dad down, right? He's really curious about how this little 'experiment' turns out."
So this was what they called the "experiment."
Turned out, my whole life, I'd been nothing but a test subject to them.
I stared at the food scattered across the filthy ground, then glanced up at Sophia, my mirror image, staring back with a stranger's eyes.
I crouched down and picked up a steak soaked in muddy water.
With Emily and tens of thousands of livestream viewers locked onto me, I raised it to my lips.
With everyone watching, expecting me to break, I just smiled.
Instead of eating, I hurled the muddy steak straight at the Bentley's window.
Grease and grime smeared all over the pristine, expensive glass.
Emily's smile froze on her face.