Chapter 1After my sister got pregnant before marriage, she cried and asked me to accept my husband's child. Don't blame me for not remembering the old feelings.

My college-aged sister, Skylar, got pregnant out of wedlock, and she refused to name the father, insisting on keeping their "love child."

My heart ached for her, so young and already with a swollen belly. I brought her home, spoiling her with good food and endless care.

It wasn't until the day she was about to give birth that Skylar finally broke down in tears, confessing to everyone that the baby belonged to her and my husband, Brandon.

What a massive scene that caused. Turns out, my entire family had just been using me as a free live-in maid.

"Say that again. Whose baby is it?"

Even in a sterile hospital gown, Skylar's beautiful face couldn’t be hidden. She defiantly held her head high, tenderly stroking her heavily pregnant belly. Her voice choked as she pleaded with me to accept the child.

She claimed the baby couldn’t be born without a father, and if I was truly her sister, I should put myself in her shoes and consider her feelings.

"If news got out that the baby had no father, imagine how many people would gossip about me and the child behind our backs," she whined. "You can’t be so heartless."

I stood there, silently listening to all her accusations, as if I were the one who had committed such a disgraceful act.

A bitter ache twisted in my gut, leaving me frozen. For a moment, I had no idea how to react to the scene unfolding before me.

My eyes desperately darted to my parents, who stood by the hospital bed, pleading for them to step in and set things right.

But to my disbelief, even after Skylar pulled such a disgusting stunt, my parents' first reaction was to tell *me*, the elder sister, to be more understanding. "Don't stoop to her level," they said.

"There's no hurdle you can't overcome," they insisted. "Just forgive your sister's youthful ignorance."

Then they added, "Your mother and I are getting old. Skylar needs someone by her side. As her older sister, you need to take good care of her during her postpartum recovery, making sure she didn't develop any lasting health issues. Those kind of recovery illnesses are a real pain to get rid of."

Their biased words pierced me like countless tiny needles, an insidious ache spreading through my chest.

Because "the older sister always has to give in to the younger," Skylar always managed to snatch everything I had without any effort, simply because she wanted it.

When we were kids, our family was poor. We lived on humble meals like cabbage and tofu stew. Only once a month, when Dad got his paycheck, could we afford a roast chicken to improve our diet.

But whenever it was time to divide the chicken, I always ended up with the dry, scrawny chicken head and the fatty tail piece.

"Skylar is still young and growing, so the legs and wings are hers," they'd say. "And your parents do manual labor every day, so the meatiest part of the body is for us to replenish our strength."

Even if Skylar couldn't finish her portion, Mom never even thought about giving me a single bite. Instead, she'd meticulously debone the chicken, shred the meat, and mix it into Skylar’s rice for the next day.

Even now, if there's anything good to eat, Skylar is always the first one they think of.

They always doted on Skylar, pampering her endlessly, while I was met with nothing but strictness.

If Skylar struggled with her studies, our parents would spare no expense enrolling her in expensive tutoring classes. If I fell behind, I'd get yelled at, and sometimes even beaten with a belt, leaving me in so much pain I couldn't sleep all night.

Mom said girls needed to dress up from a young age, so she bought Skylar countless pretty dresses, changing them daily.

When it was my turn, I was told to wear worn-out hand-me-downs from relatives' kids. In my teens, I wanted to look good, so I begged a friend to do my makeup, and my parents would call me a tramp for it.

I even wondered if Mom had somehow swapped us at the hospital.

But it wasn't until I was an adult that I learned my mother gave birth to me outside, not even making it to the hospital. It felt like my very birth condemned me to be inferior to my sister.

Yet, they never admitted they played favorites. Whenever I asked them why they only loved Skylar and not me, they’d grab whatever was at hand and hit or curse at me. "Stop causing trouble!" they'd shout. "Have I done something wrong raising you? How could I have raised such an ungrateful wretch?"

"When will you ever learn to be sensible? How old do you need to be to stop competing with your sister for attention?"

Skylar stole my parents' affection, she stole everything that should have been mine. But I never imagined she'd try to steal my place now. This time, I refused to endure it any longer. This rule, "the older must yield to the younger"—who the hell decided that?!