Chapter 3Rewriting My Fate: The Billionaire's Forgotten Daughter

When I was seven, we moved into a lavish mansion in the city's most exclusive neighborhood.

If Claire snuck out to play, she would miraculously bump into a Wall Street tycoon who would safely escort her home.

If she squatted by the front door playing with weeds, a renowned classical oil painter walking by would spot her and immediately take her on as his final apprentice.

If she stood up for a homeless kid, she would instantly win the adoration of every child in the neighborhood.

Just like Mom and Dad always said, she existed entirely as the main character. Everywhere she went, she sparkled.

Because of this, every time my mom looked at me, her face contorted with disgust. "Get away from me! How on earth did I give birth to such an ugly monster!"

Claire had porcelain skin and a bright, dazzling smile.

I was tanned dark from the sun, horribly frail from malnutrition, and my hair was as dry as straw.

Anyone who saw us said we looked absolutely nothing like sisters.

Claire was like a little sun, making everyone around her feel warm and comfortable.

And I was an out-and-out feral child, a peasant.

My very existence was a constant reminder to them of those destitute days, of the humiliating past where they had to beg for scraps with their heads bowed.