Chapter 2Ten Years as the Fake Sister

The day the "real heiress" returned was a lavish charity gala. Robert Marston never went into battle unprepared. If he dared to present that girl in such a setting, it meant he'd made exhaustive preparations.

I wore the black velvet gown Robert had personally chosen, clinging to his arm, playing the part of the demure, aloof, and untouchable Marston heiress. Until the grand doors swung open, and all the spotlights in the room converged on that girl.

Her name was Jenny. She stood there, timid and uncertain, in a faded white dress, like a delicate wildflower swaying in a storm. But the moment she raised her head, I heard gasps ripple through the room.

The resemblance. It was uncanny. Not to me, but to Robert in his youth. The same innate coolness and stubbornness in her eyes, as if carved from the same mold. More importantly, when she tilted her head slightly out of nervousness, a crescent-shaped red birthmark on her neck stood out glaringly under the lights. It was the unique mark of the Marston family's long-lost daughter. And it was something I, the "imposter," absolutely did not possess.

Robert's arm stiffened for a fraction of a second. Just a fraction, but he still pushed me away, striding towards the girl.

"What's your name?"

Silence descended, Robert's voice echoing through the ballroom. The girl’s eyes were red-rimmed, her voice trembling. "Jenny... Jenny Vance."

In that moment, I became the biggest joke in the room. The whispers of the socialites surged like a tide.

"Look at Luella, her face is white as a sheet."

"A fake is always a fake. The real one shows up, and the imposter's true colors are revealed."

"How do you think Mr. Marston will deal with her? All these years, the money spent on a fake must be staggering."

I stood my ground, picked up a glass of champagne, and drained it in one gulp. The sharp, burning liquid slid down my throat, suppressing the stinging in my eyes. I didn't envy Jenny. I was just afraid. I knew how Robert treated traitors and the useless. Those hard drives I’d destroyed, those people who’d simply vanished from the face of the earth, were all grim precedents.

That night, Jenny moved into the Marston mansion. And, more strikingly, into the master bedroom next to Robert’s – a forbidden zone even for me. I was relegated to a guest room. The staff, masters of opportunism, immediately diverted the bird's nest soup originally meant for my room to the master suite.

"Miss Vance, I'm so sorry, but the young lady just returned and is a bit frail. This is the only bowl of bird's nest we have."

I looked at Martha's smirking face. "It's fine, I don't care for sweets."

Closing the door, I pulled a prepared black backpack from under the bed. Cash, a fake passport, several high-concentration anesthetics disguised as lipstick, and a miniature smoke bomb I'd concocted myself. This was my escape route. I’d hoped I wouldn't need it, but now, it seemed I had no choice but to use it.

Late that night, as I opened my door, I bumped into someone. Jenny. She was wearing silk pajamas, holding a glass of warm milk, standing in the dim light of the hallway. There was no trace of the timidity she'd displayed at the gala. She looked at me, a strange, twisted smile playing on her lips.

"Going somewhere so soon, big sister?"

Her voice was soft, yet it carried an indescribable chill. I frowned. "Move."

Jenny took a step closer, her gaze falling on my backpack, her eyes greedy and malicious. "How could someone like Robert Marston have kept a fool like you for ten years? You think you can just run away?" She reached out, her long fingers lightly tracing my cheek, her nails sharp. "If I were you, I'd get on my knees and beg for mercy. Maybe I'd be merciful enough to leave you a whole body, considering you've worn the Marston name for a decade."

I grabbed her wrist, twisting it sharply.

"Ah!"

Jenny screamed, the milk spilling to the floor.

"What are you doing?!"

A furious roar echoed from the staircase. Robert strode up, pushing me aside and shielding Jenny behind him.

"Robert... she... she called me a wildling, said I didn't belong..." Jenny clutched her wrist, tears instantly welling up, a picture of delicate sorrow.

I watched the scene coldly. It was a cliché, a tired old trick. But in this house, cliché tricks often worked best, because the judge was already biased.

Robert turned, his eyes fixed on me as if I were already dead. "Luella, apologize."

I stood tall. "I did nothing wrong."

"I told you to apologize!" Robert's voice rose a few octaves, laced with unquestionable authority.

I looked at the man I’d called brother for ten years. The last sliver of hope in my heart was extinguished.

"I'm sorry." I lowered my head, my voice so calm it surprised even me. "I shouldn't have soiled the young lady's dress."

With that, I turned and went back to my room, slamming the door shut. From outside, I could faintly hear Robert's low murmurs, soothing Jenny. I leaned against the door, slowly sliding to the floor. It wasn't sadness. It was clarity. Luella, wake up. This was never your home.