I had a dream. In it, the year I turned twenty, I became the "fake" daughter. I was kicked out of the Vance family with nothing but the clothes on my back. The real daughter quickly took my place, effortlessly winning everyone’s affection. I became the designated foil—the trainwreck. No matter what I tried, I failed. Meanwhile, she just got brighter and brighter. Eventually, I hit rock bottom. I became the mistress of a balding, old rich guy just to survive. I didn't know he was abusive. He eventually started passing me around to other men to seal his business deals. Then I caught something disgusting. The old man refused to pay for treatment. I withered away in pain and rot. While I was dying, the real daughter married the man I had worshipped from afar—the ultimate titan of industry, Silas Thorne. Hearing that news was the last thing I did before I took my final breath. My life ended like a piece of rough, scribbled-out scrap paper. It was so ludicrous I woke up laughing. Wiping tears from the corners of my eyes, I reached out and took a stack of documents handed to me. “I’ll sign. I’m cutting all ties with the Vance family.” Chapter 1 “I’ll sign.” Saying those words felt like a physical weight lifting off me. Like I had just broken free from some invisible, suffocating shackle. “Harper, I am so disappointed in you. If you keep making this difficult, I’m just going to despise you more...” Mrs. Vance’s cold, elegant voice cut off abruptly. “What did you say?” I looked at that beautiful face, one that had once looked at me with unconditional adoration, and swallowed the bitter lump in my throat. I swallowed the word "Mom" right along with it. I didn't repeat myself. I just picked up the pen, found the signature lines in the thick stack of paperwork, and wrote my name, stroke by stroke: Harper. Just as they wanted, I no longer carried the Vance name. “Here.” I handed the stacked documents back to her. By then, her cold expression had been replaced by stark astonishment. She looked like she couldn't believe it had gone this smoothly. She had actually brought bodyguards just in case I refused. “Do you even know what these are?” I said softly, “Mostly transfers of stock options and property deeds, and a total severance of my relationship with the Vances.” Grace Vance opened her mouth, then paused. “Since you aren't biologically mine, we have to correct this. We need to put everything back on the right track. I hope you can understand.” I looked at the bodyguards standing behind her and suddenly felt drained. “I understand.” Whether I understood or not was irrelevant. Even if I hadn't agreed, someone would have forced my hand eventually. I really thought I had just had a ridiculous, vivid nightmare. Until my twentieth birthday, when a girl who looked exactly like Grace Vance showed up at our front door, claiming she was the real Vance daughter. Everything that happened after that matched the dream point for point. Compared to the real heiress, I—who had been raised on purely curated resources—had nothing to offer but a pretty face. The real heiress, having returned from the slums, was sharp, beautiful, resilient, and capable. She was accepted immediately. When she pointed a finger at me, her eyes filled with an endless, burning resentment, she had sobbed, “I want her gone.” “Every time I look at her, I remember that she stole twenty years of my life. I just...” She broke down before she could finish. Eleazar and Grace Vance were so full of guilt and pity for her that they agreed on the spot. Even my younger brother, whom I had practically raised, stood by her side. “Don’t cry. You’re my only real sister now.” They looked at me like I was a thief. “Harper, you need to leave.” The me in the dream couldn't believe that the family I had lived with for twenty years, who had supposedly loved me so much, could discard me just like that. I had cried hysterically, but no one cared. To stay in the house, I deliberately took a freezing cold bath, hoping to get sick so they couldn't kick me out. A common cold was cured too quickly, so I tried a hunger strike next. None of it earned me a single ounce of mercy. It only made them more determined to cut ties. The real daughter had kicked open my bedroom door, jealousy flashing in her eyes for a second before she satisfied herself looking at my things. “Harper, you should be grateful you got to steal twenty years of my luxury. Now, Mom and Dad aren't just kicking you out; they're taking back everything they ever gave you. It’s time you learned what life is like at the bottom.” “No, Mom and Dad wouldn't do that to me,” I had denied, unable to accept it. I had been pampered and arrogant for twenty years. Forcing me into poverty was worse than killing me. The Vance family was a massive empire; what was one more daughter to them? I was beautiful. Many wealthy men liked me. I could at least be useful for a strategic marriage alliance. Yes, that’s what I thought. I needed to go tell them I was still useful. “Stop right there.” The real daughter grabbed me. “Don’t flatter yourself. You fawned over Silas Thorne for years, and he never even gave you a second glance, did he?” “I, on the other hand, have only been back a few days, and Silas has already asked me to dinner.” Looking at me, she sneered, “A fake is always a fake.” In the dream, hearing that Silas treated her differently made me snap. I raised my hand and slapped her across the face. She immediately grabbed my hair, and we got into a vicious hair-pulling fight, tumbling right down the grand staircase together. When I woke up, I knew those weren't just dreams. It was a life I had already lived. Chapter 2 Grace Vance took the documents back, still looking a bit dazed. “Mrs. Vance, may I leave now?” Her head snapped up, staring at me. “What did you just call me?” I lowered my head, avoiding her eyes, and gave her a slight bow. “Thank you for taking care of me all these years, Grace.” Her voice trembled, a mix of anger and disappointment. “My daughter was right. Blood tells. You really are an ungrateful brat.” I raised my head, wanting to argue. Aren't you the ones discarding me? But then I saw something that wasn't in the dream. Grace’s eyes were red. There was none of the disgust or utter resoluteness that had heartbroken me every time I remembered the dream. Instead, I saw a familiar warmth and reluctance to let go. What was going on? I cooperate perfectly, and now she feels sad? I didn't let myself get sucked back in by her sudden sentimentality. As long as the "real" daughter was in the Vance family, there would never be a place for me. “I’m sorry,” I said softly. Grace stood up, shaking off her momentary loss of composure, returning to her usual elegant, icy demeanor. “Go. Pack your things. You can take your essentials.” Different again. In the dream, on the day I was kicked out, they hadn't let me take anything but the clothes on my back. I wasn't going to be proud and stupid. “Thank you.” I packed a few favorite outfits, a bag I used daily, and my toiletries. It filled one large suitcase. When I struggled to drag the suitcase downstairs, the real daughter, Bridget, insisted on inspecting it. She wanted to make sure I hadn't stolen anything I shouldn't have. In her eyes, I was a thief. I stole her life, and now I was stealing the Vance wealth. When she saw the suitcase contained nothing but simple daily items, Grace finally frowned and snapped, “Enough!” It was the first time Bridget had been scolded since her return. Her eyes went red, and she bit her lip, letting silent tears flow. “This family has been too good to her already.” Grace sighed, ultimately siding with her biological child. She turned to me, offering a final warning. “Harper, since you’ve signed the severance agreement, we are strangers if we meet again. You are absolutely forbidden from using the Vance name or reputation out there.” Even knowing Grace was cutting me off, hearing it said like that made my heart feel like it was being stuck by needles. “Understood.” I was right not to take any jewelry or valuables. Once I was a good distance away from the Vance estate, I couldn't pretend to be strong anymore. I let go of the suitcase handle and squatted down on the sidewalk. Actually, when I fell down the stairs with Bridget in the dream, I had broken a rib. Every word I had spoken to Grace just now had been through absolute agony. I knew that even if I showed pain, they would have just thought I was faking it—another tactic to manipulate my way back into the Vance house. I wasn't going to be that greedy, pathetic clown from the dream again. This time, I was leaving with my dignity intact. And I was going to survive. Chapter 3 Trembling, I pulled out my phone. My instinct was to call my close friends. No. Stop. My hand shook, and the phone slid out of my grasp, clattering onto the concrete. I remembered segments from the dream. After being kicked out by the Vances. I swallowed my pride and begged my former friends to let me crash with them for a few days. Every single one refused. They even blocked my number. When I was truly backed into a corner, I ran into someone who used to constantly hit on me. I thought I had found a savior. Instead, he dragged me into a VIP booth at a club and humiliated me for his friends. “Harper Vance, didn't you used to love making people bark like dogs for your amusement? Why don't you get down on your knees and bark three times right now, and maybe we’ll help you.” “Oh, wait, make her finish this whole bottle of tequila first, then make her bark.” A crony, whose name I couldn't even recall, had looked at me with disgusting lust. “Our little princess is homeless. How tragic. Why don’t you come live with me? I’ll give you $500 a week. How about it?” Those vile words felt like they were being whispered in my ear right now. I covered my ears, shaking my head violently. That night in the dream, they had forced so much alcohol down my throat. Someone took the chance to get revenge and violently squeezed my injured rib, causing internal bleeding that put me in the hospital. It had hurt so much. Just breathing was agony. The physical pain, mixed with the utter terror of abandonment, finally made me break down. I sobbed on the sidewalk, unable to control myself. Was I still doomed to the same ending? It wasn't my fault I was switched at birth. Why do I have to bear all this suffering? Bridget was so accomplished; it was obvious my biological mother hadn't abused her. Why did she hate me so violently? She got to go back to being the wealthy socialite, while I was hit with the triple blow of being homeless, having an unknown father, and a deceased mother. I sat on the ground for a long time until the horizon swallowed the last sliver of sunlight and night fell. If I didn't find a place soon, I’d be sleeping on the streets tonight. Where was I supposed to go? I picked up my phone and checked my digital wallet. I only had a few hundred bucks, mostly from digital red envelopes. Every credit card under my name was frozen. If I had only known sooner... I shook my head. Knowing wouldn't have changed anything. My brain, which hadn't used even ten percent of its capacity in twenty years, started spinning rapidly. There’s a massive wholesale produce market on the south side of town. Every day, they throw away tons of veggies that are slightly damaged or just don't look good enough for retail. I could go forage there. It’s free. Rice doesn't cost that much. Then I just need to find a part-time job. My eyes lit up. Everything would be okay. Right now, the most important thing was finding a place to stay. My face fell again. That was the hardest part. I didn't dare contact a single old friend. Who was left that could help me? Suddenly, a name popped into my head. Julian Reed. The toyboy I was sponsoring. Because Silas Thorne had rejected me, I had gone out and "sponsored" a struggling college student who happened to have a side profile very similar to Silas's. It was a classic rebound trope. I had paid $200,000 for a one-year contract, up-front. There were still six months left on that contract. My breathing turned shallow and fast. I found the name in my contacts and dialed. The first time, he didn't pick up. I dialed a second time. “What is it?” Julian’s icy voice came through the receiver. I shivered. Recalling how I used to treat him, I knew I deserved this tone. To force him to be my rebound, I had destroyed the tech startup lab he had founded with his classmates. I wasn't kind to Julian either. Every time Silas ignored me, I took my rage out on him. I was terrified. If he knew I had been kicked out, would he come back and take his revenge on me now? Chapter 4 I was having serious second thoughts. Considering my history with him, would he just retaliate? While I was panicking silently, Julian’s voice got even colder. “Speak.” “Say something, or I’m hanging up.” “Don't!” I said quickly. “I’m coming over tonight.” After saying that, I waited nervously for his response. Julian was a rebellious "partner," to put it mildly. He refused me all the time. Usually, if it wasn't urgent, I let it go. But if I was in a rage and he refused me, I used to have plenty of leverage and dirty methods to force him over. I used to be arrogant and stubborn myself; I had liked his unbroken spirit. Because the prouder he was, the more satisfying it felt to crush him into the dirt. My god, I really was a psycho. I really deserved to die, I thought miserably. But I couldn't worry about that now. He was the only life raft I could reach. There was a long silence on the other end. He didn't refuse, and he didn't hang up. Just as I was about to lose hope, Julian spoke. He said, “Fine.” I bit the bullet and called a Uber to take me to the University District. It cost over $50. My heart hurt even more than my ribs. Originally, to make visiting Julian convenient, I had rented a high-end apartment near the university campus with excellent privacy. I had signed a one-year lease. I never imagined this place would become my last refuge. I knew Julian hated that apartment. Unless I demanded it, he almost never went there. I could live here alone. But right now, standing in front of the door, I wanted to die of regret. Why hadn't I taken the spare key from the main house? If I had, I could have just moved in silently and hidden out until the lease expired. Now, I had to wait for my rebellious rebound. I was terrified of what would happen next. I didn't know when he would show up, so I sat on my suitcase, resting my head against the doorframe to soothe my exhaustion and pain. I don't know how long passed. “Why aren't you inside?” The voice was sharp, coated in frost. I opened my eyes and saw Julian's towering silhouette, his sharply defined features illuminated by the hallway light. He was looking down at me. It felt like a lifetime since I had seen him. I almost cried with relief. Being careful not to pull on my injury, I didn't stand up. I just whispered, “You’re here.” Julian, long time no see! Julian froze. He had never seen me quiet and compliant before. When he saw the suitcase, his brow furrowed tightly. “You?” I looked up at him. “Can we go inside first? I’m cold.” Julian unlocked the door. I swayed on my feet as I made my way to the sofa, collapsing onto it and gasping for air. Safe. At that perfectly wrong moment, my stomach let out a thunderous growl. I couldn't help it. I hadn't eaten, and I was starving. I shot an embarrassed look at Julian. If I asked him for food... Before my brain could even process the thought, my mouth was already speaking: “Julian, I’m hungry.” Julian’s face looked even worse now. “Chloe Harrington, what kind of sick game are you playing this time?” Chapter 5 I lowered my eyes, tired. “No games. Just... things have changed.” I corrected him softly. “And it’s just Chloe now. Just call me Chloe.” Julian’s whole body stiffened. The look he gave me was indescribable. I turned my face away. I realized my voice had been too soft just now, almost sounding like I was acting cute or flirting. But that wasn't my intention. Speaking with too much force just hurt too much. After a long silence, Julian said, “I have instant ramen. You want some?” I nodded frantically. “Yes, please.” Twenty minutes later, I had downed the last of the broth. I was mentally preparing how to bring up terminating our contract with Julian. Ideally, I wanted to ask for $100,000 back. Before today, $100,000 was just pocket change for a few outfits or a bag. But now, that $100,000 was my life. I kept sneaking glances at Julian. He was dressed entirely in black today—a black button-down shirt. I wasn't sure what the fabric was, but it had a nice sheen and drape. His thick hair was parted slightly, the ends slightly curled. He had that mixture of aloofness and youthful vigor. Honestly, looking like that, the $200,000 had been worth it. How should I phrase this? I smack my lips, immediately regretting the gesture. As the saying goes: Don't bite the hand that feeds you. I was so consumed by my internal debate that I completely missed the fact that the man was watching all my little movements. A flash of disgust crossed his eyes. “Alright, let’s get this over with. How do you want to play today?” “Huh?” My eyes went wide. “Let’s make this quick!” Julian started walking toward me, unbuttoning his shirt as he came. Before I realized what was happening, I caught a faint scent of lemon, and Julian had already unbuttoned his entire shirt, exposing his chest. He got down on one knee right at my feet, lowering his head, presenting his profile to me. From my perspective, that profile was almost an exact carbon copy of Silas Thorne. It was the angle I used to love. He was heart-wrenchingly practiced at this. “Mistress, punish me...” You couldn't see the humiliation in his eyes from this angle. I was terrified. “No! Get away!” Julian let out a cold snort. “Not that one today?” With that, he stood up and started undoing his belt. The click of the buckle sounded like a switch, flooding me with horrible memories. I looked at him in stark terror, quickly scrambling back into the corner of the sofa until I couldn't go back any further. I curled up tightly, unable to stop my whole body from shaking. “Don’t come near me! Please, don’t come near me...” In the dream, someone else had done this exact thing, pulling his belt off while walking toward me. He used that belt to tie me up, to beat me. I couldn't run, I couldn't hide... “Let me go, let me go...” I mumbled unconsciously. “Chloe Harrington.” “Chloe.” He called my name twice, but I was so submerged in terror that I didn't hear him clearly. Julian finally realized something was very wrong. “Chloe.” That nice lemon scent drifted back into my nose, and I snapped out of it. I looked up and saw Julian’s cold, intense eyes right in front of me. “Don’t come near me... don’t touch me...” I was hyperventilating, and the heavy, ragged breathing was pulling on my broken rib. Pain. It let me know this was real, not a dream. Julian sat down on the coffee table opposite me, furrowing his brows, keeping me company in the silence.
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