1 When I turned eighteen, fate handed me two choices. I could either become the hidden, kept mistress of the city's notorious underground kingpin, Rafa, or I could return to my biological family—the illustrious, artistically renowned Versaw family—as their true heiress. In my past life, I chose the latter. The day I was brought back from the slums to the Versaw estate, I naively believed they would ache for the eighteen years I had spent surviving on the streets with absolutely nothing. But the moment my biological parents laid eyes on me, they coldly appraised me. "You slouch when you stand, you sprawl when you sit. You are entirely unpresentable. When you learn proper etiquette, then and only then will we allow you to take the Versaw name." My biological brother chimed in, equally dismissive. "Harper, scrub that pathetic, poverty-stricken stench off yourself. Stop embarrassing this family." I thought the Versaws were just naturally cold, detached people. It wasn't until the day I died that I finally understood. They had already poured every single ounce of their love into their fake daughter, Chloe. There simply wasn't a drop left for me. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the exact day the Versaws came to fetch me. Staring at the familiar, broken pavement of the slums, I pulled out my phone and dialed the number I had memorized for a lifetime. "Mr. Rafa, I accept your offer. I'll be your girl." My palms were sweating, and my voice trembled over the line. The man on the other end fell silent. A second later, a low, indifferent 'hmm' vibrated through the speaker. He sounded so casual, as if we weren't discussing an illicit arrangement where he owned me. His reaction was entirely unreadable. Panic flared in my chest, and I opened my mouth to say something else to solidify the deal. The line went dead. He hung up on me. Simultaneously, a text message popped up on my screen. [Wait where you are.] I let out a massive sigh of relief. Rafa was a man of his word. If he agreed to something, it was as good as done. Just then, a massive, sleek black SUV pulled up directly in front of me. An older man in a tailored suit stepped out. He stood stiffly by the door. "Miss Harper, Madam Versaw sent me to bring you home." His words were formally polite, but the look in his eyes was dripping with absolute disdain. I pulled out my phone and shot a quick text to Rafa. [Mr. Rafa, the Versaws are here to pick me up.] Rafa replied instantly. It was just a single letter. [K.] But I understood immediately. It meant he was granting me permission to go. I smiled, pocketed my phone, and looked at the butler. "Put my luggage in the trunk." "Miss Harper, the Versaw family has prepared a complete set of luxury daily necessities for you. You do not need to bring any luggage." In my past life, after delivering that exact line, the butler had grabbed my duffel bag and tossed it into a muddy puddle on the curb. They acted as if my entire eighteen years of existence was a disease they refused to let infect their pristine mansion. This time, I didn't swallow the humiliation. I gripped my duffel bag tight, turned on my heel, and started walking away. The butler's arrogant composure cracked. He hurried after me, stepping directly into my path to block me. "Miss Harper, where exactly do you think you're going?" I looked up at him, my voice entirely flat. "If the servants of the Versaw family refuse to follow basic instructions, then it's a household with no discipline. I have no interest in living there." The butler locked eyes with me. We stood in silence for a long, tense moment. Finally, he broke eye contact, lowered his head, and reached out to take my bag. "Miss Harper, Madam is waiting for you." I let out a soft scoff and climbed into the back of the SUV. The butler slid into the front seat, his expression carefully blank. But I knew people like him; he wasn't going to let an insult from a slum rat slide. Sure enough, the moment we hit the main road, the car veered completely off route. He deliberately drove me in circles on the highway loop three times. By the time we finally pulled into the Versaw estate, the sky was completely pitch black. The Versaw family was seated in the grand dining room. The moment I walked in, three pairs of eyebrows pulled together in unified irritation. Except for Chloe. She kept her head down, her eyes red, her voice thick with exaggerated grievance. "Sister, I know you resent my existence... but you shouldn't have delayed coming home on purpose. Dad, Mom, and our brother have been starving for hours waiting for you." I stared at her, a wave of dizziness hitting me. For a split second, I was dragged violently back to the day I died. I was twenty years old when I died in a maximum-security prison cell. Not long after I arrived at the estate, Chloe framed me. She claimed I intentionally burned down her art gallery. My mother said I was too manipulative, toxic to the core. My brother said growing up in the slums had irreversibly corrupted my soul. In the end, it was my father who slammed the gavel, ensuring I was thrown behind bars. They all agreed I was too severely broken. They said I needed to suffer to be rehabilitated. Not a single one of them listened to my defense. Chloe had clearly pulled strings, because my life in prison was absolute hell. I was beaten and bullied daily. But I gritted my teeth and survived. Because they told me my sentence was only three years. I just had to hold on. Until the day I turned twenty, when I overheard two guards talking outside my cell. "Hey, isn't that Harper girl scheduled for release next year?" "Release? Are you kidding? First-degree arson is a major felony. She got slapped with a fifteen-year sentence." "Wait, I thought she just burned down her own family's gallery? If they signed a letter of forgiveness, she would've gotten a slap on the wrist." "Her family specifically demanded the judge give her the absolute maximum sentence. That's why she's in for fifteen." Fifteen years. The best fifteen years of my entire life. I was going to rot in a concrete box for a crime I never committed. I refused to let that happen. That night, during the guard shift change, I tied my uniform to the bars of the window and hung myself. Thank god the universe gave me a second chance. This time, I could change everything. I looked at Chloe and let out a soft, venomous smile. "Since you're so acutely aware that I despise your existence, why the hell are you still sitting at my table?" Chloe froze. Massive, theatrical tears instantly spilled down her cheeks. She aggressively shot out of her chair, bowed to me, and choked out, "Sister... I know I don't belong here. I'll leave right now." With that, she turned and ran toward the door, sobbing loudly. I watched her back and casually added, "Yeah, don't let the door hit you on the way out." Chloe's shoulders jerked. She clearly hadn't expected me to be so brutally unapologetic. The rest of the Versaws finally snapped. Mr. Versaw slammed his silverware onto the table, his voice echoing through the dining room. "Harper! You do not dictate who stays in this house!" Mrs. Versaw instantly rushed out of her chair, catching Chloe by the arm and pulling her into a tight, dramatic embrace as they both sobbed. "Chloe, sweetie, Mommy promises you, I will never let anyone chase you away!" Then came the furious reprimand from my brother, Julian. "Harper, you are the one who deliberately showed up late! Chloe merely stated a fact, and you try to kick her out of her own home?! It really is true what they say about slum trash... you are narrow-minded, selfish, and vile!" I crossed my arms and waited in total silence until he ran out of breath. Then, I pulled out my phone and opened my social media feed. The newest post was a photo of me getting into the SUV. The caption was a single word. [Homeward.] The timestamp clearly showed the photo was posted five hours ago. I held the screen up to their faces. "The butler picked me up exactly five hours ago. The drive from my neighborhood to this estate takes an hour and a half, maximum. But your butler decided to drive me in circles on the highway loop for three hours." "So I want to ask you... am I the one lacking etiquette, or is the Versaw household so completely undisciplined that your servants just do whatever the hell they want?" The room fell into absolute silence. I let out a dark chuckle, walking slowly toward Chloe. "I literally just walked through the front door. I have no idea who you are. And you had no idea why I was delayed. So why was your very first instinct to accuse me of hating you and intentionally starving the family?" "Are you that desperate to smear my name and ruin my first impression, or are you just naturally manipulative?" Chloe had clearly never met someone who dismantled her fake tears so surgically. Her face went ghostly pale, and she stammered defensively, "I... I didn't..." Mrs. Versaw couldn't stand seeing her precious daughter look so cornered. Her heart ached, and she quickly stepped in. "Harper, you're misunderstanding her! Chloe has just been so anxious and sensitive ever since she found out you were coming home." I didn't argue. I just stared blankly at Mrs. Versaw. Her eyes were overflowing with a mother's protective love. But it wasn't for me. I lowered my gaze. "I heard that cuckoo birds lay their eggs in the nests of other birds. When the cuckoo hatches, it pushes the original babies out of the nest to plummet to their deaths, ensuring the mother bird only feeds the imposter." "I wonder if humans act like cuckoo birds... selfish, lethal, and desperate to steal a life that doesn't belong to them." Every single face in the Versaw family drained of color. Chloe let out a pathetic wail and ran up the grand staircase. Mrs. Versaw immediately chased after her, cooing apologies. Mr. Versaw threw his napkin on the table and stormed off to his study. Julian stood up, looking at me with pure disgust. "Harper, you can play the victim all you want. You can try to poison us against her. It won't work. Chloe is my only sister, and she will always be the only daughter of the Versaw family." "Yeah, I know." I knew that in my past life. So in this life, it didn't hurt at all. Seeing my completely indifferent reaction, Julian opened his mouth but couldn't find the words. He finally scowled and marched upstairs. I looked down at the massive spread of cold food. Without asking for permission, I pulled out a chair, sat down, and started eating. I had been sitting in a car all day. I was starving. When I was finally full, I pulled out my phone, snapped a photo of the half-empty plates, and sent it to Rafa. [Mr. Rafa, the Versaws made me eat their cold leftovers. (sad face emoji)] Rafa replied almost immediately. Once again, it was a painfully cold [K.] I was trying to decode what exactly he meant when my banking app suddenly buzzed. A wire transfer for fifty thousand dollars had just hit my account. I couldn't help it. I laughed out loud. Mrs. Versaw happened to be walking past the dining room. Seeing me smiling like I had just won the lottery, her blood boiled. "Harper, does bullying your sister until she cries bring you that much joy?! What exactly did she do to deserve this?!" Mrs. Versaw's eyes filled with angry tears. She remembered when Chloe was a tiny, fragile baby, sleeping on her chest. She had nurtured her, protected her, and raised her into a bright, cheerful girl. Now, her precious daughter was crying so hard she couldn't breathe, even frowning in her sleep. And the monster responsible for her pain was sitting there laughing. She was absolutely furious! I dropped my smile, looked up, and said, "Mrs. Versaw, Chloe and I are exactly the same age." Her furious rant crashed into a brick wall. She opened her mouth, closed it, and took a long time before she weakly muttered, "Harper... Mommy didn't mean it like that... I just thought... as sisters, you two should try to get along..." I didn't entertain her backpedaling. I changed the subject immediately. "Mrs. Versaw, where is my room?" It was only then that she realized she had spent the entire evening coddling Chloe and completely forgot to arrange my living quarters. She looked incredibly awkward. "The guest room..." I nodded simply. "Thank you." A flash of genuine guilt crossed her eyes. She personally carried my duffel bag up the stairs. But the moment she pushed open the door to the guest room, she froze in horror! The room was completely packed to the ceiling with random boxes, old furniture, and junk. There wasn't even room to step inside! She frantically called a maid over and demanded an explanation. "Madam... Miss Chloe was worried her piano practice would disturb your sleep, so she asked us to convert the basement storage into a soundproof studio. We had nowhere to put the basement junk, so we temporarily moved it into the guest room..." "Are there any other guest rooms available?!" "Only... only the empty maid's quarters by the laundry room..." Mrs. Versaw looked like she was about to faint. She looked at me, her lips trembling, unable to form a single sentence. I offered her a polite smile, waving my hand dismissively. "It's fine. I'll just sleep in the maid's room." The guilt on her face deepened instantly. She walked me down the hall to the tiny, cramped room, her eyes red. "Harper... I promise you, I'll have the staff clear out the big guest room first thing tomorrow morning. Just endure this for one night." "Okay." I nodded coldly. Her eyes grew even redder. "Do you really have nothing to say to your own mother?" I felt a surge of deep exhaustion. It reminded me of the exact same night in my past life. I had slept in this exact maid's room. Mrs. Versaw had looked exactly this guilty. She had grabbed my hands, begging me to tell her about all the suffering I had endured. I had buried my face in her shoulder and told her how, at five years old, I was so hungry I stole half-eaten bread from a trash can. I told her how, at ten years old, a gang of older boys beat me until my eardrum ruptured just to steal an empty plastic bottle I was trying to recycle for pennies. I told her how, at fifteen, having nowhere to sleep, I was cornered under a bridge by a strange man and barely escaped being assaulted. Eighteen years of absolute agony, summarized in a few quiet sentences. Mrs. Versaw had held me tight, weeping uncontrollably, swearing to God she would love me endlessly and never let me suffer again. And then, the very next morning, she broke that vow. Chloe had come down the stairs crying, claiming her diamond necklace was missing, and that I was the only person who had walked past her room. Mrs. Versaw didn't give me a single second to explain. She slapped me across the face with everything she had. She screamed that I had grown up a thief, and I would die a thief. Snapping back to the present, I leaned against the doorframe, my voice devoid of emotion. "Mrs. Versaw, I'm exhausted. I want to sleep." She had clearly never been dismissed so bluntly in her life. She stiffened, but eventually turned around and slowly closed the door behind her. The second she was gone, I practically dove onto the tiny bed and snapped a photo of the depressing, claustrophobic maid's room. I was about to hit send when I paused. I couldn't just constantly play the pathetic victim with Rafa. It would get boring. I thought for a second, then slightly tugged my skirt up, exposing two long, pale legs against the cheap sheets. I snapped a new photo. I cropped my face out. It looked innocent, but incredibly provocative. Satisfied, I sent the photo to Rafa. [Mr. Rafa, the maid's room is so tiny. I don't even have enough space to stretch my legs. (crying face emoji)] This time, Rafa's reply wasn't a cold 'K'. The chat window showed 'typing...' for a very long time. Finally, my phone chimed. [Pull your clothes down.] "Tch. Prude." I muttered the insult under my breath, tossed my phone on the mattress, and didn't bother replying. Within minutes, I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. During my two years in prison, I had suffered so much I hadn't had a single good night's rest. When I finally woke up, it was already past noon. I stayed in bed for a while longer, dreading whatever psychotic drama Chloe was undoubtedly brewing downstairs. But when I finally walked out of the room, the massive estate was dead silent. The Versaws were entirely gone. This was completely different from my past life. Was the butterfly effect already kicking in? I kept my guard up, waiting silently until the evening when the Versaws finally returned. They all looked ecstatic. Especially Chloe. Unlike my past life where she constantly cried the moment she saw me, she actually smiled and greeted me cheerfully. It was deeply unsettling. The most bizarre part was that over the next few days, Chloe never once tried to antagonize me. It defied all logic. Until the day before her grand art gallery opening. I was wound tighter than a coiled spring, ready for war. In my past life, this was the exact day she invited me to the gallery, set her own most expensive painting on fire while I was standing there, and screamed that I was an arsonist. I fully expected her to run the same playbook, but the day passed completely peacefully. Absolutely nothing happened. I bit my lip. Chloe and the rest of the Versaws hadn't miraculously become good people overnight. What the hell was going on? Thankfully, I didn't have to wait long. That night, I discovered the truth. It all revolved around Rafa. The day after I arrived at the Versaw estate, Rafa had publicly released a statement to the criminal and elite underworld. He was looking for a fiancée. He had two absolute requirements. One: She had to be from high society. Two: She had to have just turned eighteen this year. The list of girls who met those criteria was extremely short. Chloe was on it. So, for the past week, Mr. and Mrs. Versaw had been aggressively dragging Chloe to every elite networking event in the city, desperately trying to put her directly in Rafa's line of sight. Their ruthless social climbing paid off. Rafa had formally agreed to attend the grand opening of Chloe's art gallery. That was why Chloe hadn't had a spare second to torture me. Especially today. She was losing her mind with stress. She had hired the absolute best styling team in the city, spending the entire day trying on haute couture and priceless diamonds. To ensure absolutely nothing went wrong tomorrow, she had the entire styling team move into the Versaw estate for the night. That was how I overheard the gossip and pieced together Rafa's involvement. Seeing that I was lingering near the dressing room, Chloe put on her best apologetic face, her eyes turning perfectly red. "Sister... I've been so incredibly busy these past few days, I completely forgot to order a custom gown for you for tomorrow's opening. We're about the same size... maybe you could wear one of my old dresses?" Before she even finished, Julian marched over, his face twisted in annoyance. "Harper, are you throwing another fit? You're a slum rat who doesn't understand basic high society etiquette. Why would you even go to an elite opening gala?" Mrs. Versaw chimed in instantly. "Harper, tomorrow is the most important day of Chloe's life. It's not that I don't want you there... I'm just worried you'll feel completely out of place. The guests are the absolute elite of the city, and you don't know the rules of our circle yet." Mr. Versaw was even more blunt, waving his hand impatiently. "Why are you wasting your breath explaining it to her? Harper, tomorrow you will stay in this house, and you will not step a single foot outside!" They fully expected me to scream, to cry, to demand my right to attend. Instead, I did absolutely nothing. I gave them an obedient nod, turned around, and walked back to my room like a perfectly disciplined dog. The moment I shut my door, I aggressively rubbed my eyes until they were bloodshot and watering. Then, I snapped a heartbreaking, teary-eyed selfie and sent it to Rafa. [Mr. Rafa, the Versaws banned me from going to the gala. I guess I won't get to see you tomorrow after all. (broken heart emoji)] Over the past few days, I had thoroughly analyzed his personality. Rafa seemed incredibly susceptible to me acting like a helpless, spoiled victim. Whenever I played that card, he was significantly more responsive. Sure enough, my phone buzzed instantly. [Tomorrow morning, a car will pick you up.] I sent back a [Love you!] sticker and finally went to sleep, completely at peace. Early the next morning, I was violently woken up by the sound of Chloe screaming at a makeup artist down the hall. Knowing I couldn't go back to sleep, I stayed in bed, the straps of my silk nightgown slipping off my shoulder. With my hair messy and my eyes heavy with sleep, I snapped a quick photo and sent it to Rafa. [Morning, Mr. Rafa.] He didn't reply. I didn't panic. I waited patiently until the entire Versaw family left the estate in a fleet of luxury cars. A few minutes later, Rafa finally texted. [Come downstairs.] I practically sprinted out the front door. A sleek black luxury van was parked quietly at the edge of the driveway. Inside was a small army of elite makeup artists and stylists. Two hours later, the van pulled up to the grand entrance of Chloe's art gallery. The opening gala was breathtakingly extravagant. The absolute elite of high society had flooded the venue. But they weren't there for the Versaw family, and they certainly weren't there to admire Chloe's amateur brushstrokes. Without exception, every single billionaire, politician, and socialite was there solely to get close to Rafa. Standing on the red carpet outside the doors, I could hear their nauseatingly fake praises bleeding through the glass. "Chloe is truly a prodigy! To paint with such emotion, and to capture the attention of Him..." "Well, Mr. and Mrs. Versaw are legends in the art world. It's no surprise they cultivated such a brilliant daughter." "Oh, if only my children had a fraction of Chloe's grace and talent!" Listening to them trip over themselves to worship her, I let out a dark smirk, placed my hands on the heavy double doors, and shoved them wide open.
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