Chapter 1
I wake up one day to find I have been dropped into the life of a clueless, crazy-rich mom, the biological mother of a story's long-lost heiress.
According to the plot I remembered, my two daughters are sweetly close in public, but behind closed doors, they tear each other apart over the pettiest things, like a bigger bedroom, the last slice of cake, and a cute boy.
So I become Switzerland, always keeping things balanced.
Clothes are bought in twos. Allowances are split down to the last cent. I even time my lectures to ensure they are perfectly balanced.
I live in constant fear of one of them accusing me of playing favorites.
My years of walking on eggshells come to an abrupt end the day he shows up: the male lead.
I must have circled the poor guy a dozen times, my mind racing as my perfectly balanced world threatens to implode.
How the hell do you split a boy in two?
Just as my panic hits its peak, I spin around and see a scene that completely derails my train of thought.
The real heiress, Lucy, nudges her sister with a grin, saying, "Are you into him, Stella? He's all yours. Seriously, guys are a dime a dozen."
Stella just laughs, waving a dismissive hand, and replies, "Nah, you're crazy. Sisters before misters, always."
The male lead gapes at them with a pale face, murmuring, "So, should I just, like, go then?"
*****
"You really want to live in here?"
Under the almost painfully bright lights of the hallway, I crouched down to get on her level, needing to hear it from Lucy Burt one more time.
Her eyes followed my finger, taking in the whole saccharine scene: the cartoon lamb light fixture on the ceiling, the frilly pink princess canopy over the bed, and the mountain of Hello Kitty plushies piled on the comforter.
She gave me an icy glance and then nodded without hesitation.
Honestly, I wasn't surprised.
Show me a nine-year-old who wouldn't lose her mind over this. Not even a girl born with a silver spoon in her mouth.
The problem was, this was Stella Burt's room.
I took a breath, forming the perfect explanation in my head, but before I could speak, those bizarre, glowing comments flickered into existence in the air around me.
[Hasn't even been here five minutes and she's already starting drama. Stealing rooms now, she'll steal the main love interest later. A classic pick-me. So pathetic.]
[My poor baby Stella! My heart just breaks for her. She's going to have to deal with this bully forever. How is my sweet, innocent little girl supposed to compete with a schemer like Lucy?]
[That helpless feeling of wanting to reach through the screen and smack her is killing me. The sight of her is just infuriating.]
[Oh, keep up the act. We all know you hate pink. The second you actually have to live in here, you'll throw a fit.]
My gaze locked on that last comment, a giant question mark blooming in my mind.
Just then, I felt a pair of eyes on me, a stare so focused that I could practically feel the path it traced across my skin.
I knew, without looking, that it was Lucy watching me.
When I met her gaze, her head snapped down, as if she could hide the flash of anxiety and guilt that had been so plain on her face.
Something shifted in me. The words I had planned to say vanished, replaced by something else entirely. I found myself simply nodding along with her.
"Alright then," I said. "If this is the one you love, then you just stay here.
"You'll be just like a real-life Barbie. How does that sound?"
Lucy's face was a mask of pure shock, like she couldn't process the fact that I had agreed so easily.
In that exact moment, Stella came barreling in and launched herself into my arms, head-first, as if to physically reclaim her territory.
The force of the impact sent me stumbling back. I barely avoided landing flat on my ass.
The little bundle in my arms scrunched up her face and let out a heart-wrenching wail.
Stella was too young to understand the complex weight of bloodlines.
All she knew was that this new "big sister" had appeared out of nowhere, threatening to take a share of her mother's love. And now, she was about to lose her room, too. There was no way she was letting that happen.
The candies she had been clutching scattered across the floor. She rubbed her eyes, wailing.
"Mommy, you gave my room to my sister, but I still love you," she sobbed. "Can you take me to the doctor? I think my eyes are broken because they won't stop crying! I don't wanna move!"
Her childish words were like a feather stroking my heart, turning me into a complete puddle.
The comments were right about one thing. Stella really was a cinnamon roll.
"Now, when did I say I was giving your room away?" I asked, unable to stop myself from reaching out and gently pinching her chubby cheek.
Her sobs stopped instantly. She swiped at the tears and snot on her face with the back of her hand and broke into a huge grin.
"Huh? So I don't have to move?"
The little one jumped to conclusions.