Chapter 1

When I was five, I realized I wasn't my parents' biological daughter.

A relative whispered the truth to me. When I asked my parents, they nodded and confirmed it.

For twenty years, Camila Lane bullied me, but I never complained. My parents always favored her, but I never argued.

When Camila stole my online boyfriend, I just quietly faded away.

Because I was afraid that they'd send me back to the orphanage.

The day our family got relocated, Camila pulled out the adoption certificate and told me I had no right to any of the compensation money.

I signed the agreement to give up my share, packed my bags, and walked out of a house that was never really mine.

My best friend Lily Nash studied the adoption certificate for a long time, then suddenly said, "The girl in this photo... isn't you."

I was stunned.

So I was the real daughter all along. Camila, the one who bullied me, was the adopted one.

When I was five, my parents just nodded because they didn't want Camila to get hurt.

And I carried that weight for twenty years.

That summer when I was five, a relative crouched down next to me and said in a voice adults thought kids couldn't understand, "Sophia Lane, you know, you're not your parents' real daughter. You were adopted from the orphanage."

I ran to ask my parents.

My dad was reading the newspaper, and my mom was folding laundry.

They exchanged a glance, then looked over at Camila, who was totally absorbed in her cartoons. She was nine at the time.

Then, almost in unison, my parents nodded at me.

"Yes, but don't tell Camila," they said.

They were afraid Camila might hear and get upset, so they just nodded to me.

They had no idea that even at five, I remembered.

And I remembered for twenty years.

From that moment on, I started teaching myself how to be "the sensible one."

On Camila's birthday, the whole family gathered around her, singing the birthday song, while I sat quietly in the corner and got the tiniest slice of cake.

The irony was that our birthdays were only a day apart; mine was just the day before hers.

But since I was at boarding school, my birthday was always ignored. My parents never bothered to celebrate it later, either. I took a bite of cake, forced a smile, and said, "Thanks, Camila!"

When Camila got into a top high school, my parents threw a celebration. That same year, I won first prize in the city's essay contest, but my certificate only stayed on the fridge for three days before Mom took it down, saying it would turn yellow.

When Camila wanted the newest Walkman, Dad bought it for her the next day.

I'd spent half a year saving up my allowance for a world geography picture book, but Camila pressured me into lending her the money so she could buy lipstick instead. She never paid me back.

Camila bullied me ever since we were kids. She'd hide my homework after I'd finished it, just to watch me get scolded by the teacher.

She'd "accidentally" lock me out of the house, leaving me outside until my parents got home from work. And she'd tell relatives and even my parents that I was a bad student who always got in trouble at school.

I never told on her.

I was scared.

I was scared my parents would think I was a burden, scared they'd send me back to the orphanage.

So I put up with it. I put up with everything.

When I was a sophomore in high school, I met a guy online.

He was really sweet—he'd listen to all my problems. We chatted for six months before finally deciding to meet up.

The day we met, I waited at the café for two hours.

Finally, I got a text. [Sorry, something came up. Can we meet another time?]

Later, I found out Camila had added him, sent him a picture of herself, and told him. [I'm Sophia's sister; she wanted me to meet you first.]

After he met Camila, he never reached out to me again.

And after that, he became Camila's boyfriend.

One time, I caught them sharing a lingering goodbye kiss outside my building. He clearly recognized me, froze for a second, and then turned his head away.

Camila had her arms around his neck and gave me a grin.

I still remembered that smile.

It wasn't guilt or embarrassment.

She was downright proud of herself.

She was basically telling me, "See? Even your online boyfriend is mine now."

I didn't say a word. I just kept my head down, swallowed all my emotions, and walked away.

When I got home, Mom was cooking in the kitchen. I stood in the doorway, wanting to say something, but in the end, I stayed silent.

What would it change?

She was the real daughter. I was just the outsider.

Who would actually have my back?

This year, our place was getting demolished.

After the news broke, Camila suddenly started being super nice to me.

I thought she finally treated me like a real sister.

But I was wrong.

Ever since I turned eighteen, I barely went home anymore. But that day, my parents called and wouldn't take no for an answer—they demanded I come back right away.

So, with a sigh, I took a day off work and rushed to catch the high-speed train home.

By the time I arrived, it was already nighttime. The whole family was gathered in the living room, and, of course, they were deep in discussion about the relocation money.

Camila was barely able to contain her excitement, her cheeks flushed, and her boyfriend was sitting right beside her.

Camila gave her boyfriend a meaningful glance, and he immediately pulled out a document from behind him and slapped it down on the coffee table.

"Mom, Dad, Sophia is adopted. By law, she's not entitled to any of the relocation money. She has no legal right to inherit," Camila said.

Her voice was just loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.

I looked at my parents.

Mom kept her head down, her fingers twisting the hem of her shirt. Dad glared at the document, his Adam's apple moving as he swallowed.

Neither of them said a word.

I picked up the document.

The cover said "Adoption Certificate."

I opened it up.

Pasted on the first page was a photo.

A little girl, maybe four years old, with a smile that looked just like mine.

"Staring at it won't change a thing. You're not Mom and Dad's real daughter—I am.

"Honestly, after all these years of you freeloading off us, our family's already gone above and beyond for you."