1 I was born with a soul that wanted to crawl into a hole and pull the grass over it. To me, a crowded room feels like a firing squad, and eye contact is a physical wound. But then, the Blackwood family—the billionaire dynasty I had been stolen from at birth—found me. And that was when Seraphina, the “fake” daughter who had been living my life, decided to turn my existence into a psychological thriller. “Does Iris hate me?” she’d sob into her silk handkerchief. “I just went to say good morning, and she called me a ‘filthy little parasite’!” My older brother, Hudson, would slam his fist on the mahogany table. “That foul-mouthed brat! How dare she bring that gutter language into this house? Come on, Seraphina. We’re going to have a word with her right now.” That’s when the butler, Arthur, would cough politely. “Sir, Miss Iris said the daylight is ‘too loud’ and refused to leave the car until midnight. She hasn’t even stepped inside the gates yet. We’re picking her up in three hours.” Three days later, Seraphina tried again. “Hudson, she… she hired some local thugs to jump me after school.” I shrank into the corner of the velvet sofa, my voice barely a whisper. “I… I haven’t actually enrolled in classes yet. I haven’t left this room.” Later, she came running in, hysterical, claiming I’d tried to run her over with my car. Before she could even get to the climax of her lie, the housekeeper burst in. “Ma’am! Hudson! Miss Iris hasn’t opened her bedroom door in an entire week. Should we call the paramedics?” The air in the living room froze. Seraphina stood there, mouth agape, her rehearsed script dying in her throat. Eventually, Hudson—convinced that the only way to save me was to force me into the world—found me a “good man.” I cracked my door open just an inch, trembling as I peered at them. “I’ll do the arranged marriage,” I stammered. “But… is it okay if I don’t show up to the wedding? Like, can I just Zoom in with my camera off?” The moment I stepped through the front doors of the Blackwood estate, Seraphina looked like she had seen a ghost. Her jaw dropped, her body turning to stone. Terrified by the sudden spotlight of her attention, I ducked behind my father, Richard. He looked at her, confused. “Seraphina? What’s with that face? You look like you’ve been struck by lightning.” As if a switch had been flipped, the shock melted into a waterfall of tears. “Dad… Iris hates me already, doesn’t she? Why else would she wait until the middle of the night to come home? She clearly didn’t want to see my face!” She turned toward the grand staircase, her voice thick with fake martyrdom. “I’ll go pack my bags. I won’t stay where I’m an eyesore to your real daughter!” My mother, Eleanor, rushed to her side, pulling her into a protective embrace. “What are you saying? You’re my daughter, too! In this house, no one is kicking you out. Not on my watch!” Then, Eleanor turned her gaze on me. It was cold, sharp, and heavy with warning. I wanted to explain. I wanted to tell her that I wasn’t being malicious; I was just terrified of the sun and the people who lived under it. I opened my mouth several times, but my throat felt like it was filled with sawdust. “Okay,” I finally managed. Eleanor’s face contorted. “Okay? That’s it? Are you dismissing me? Who taught you such insolence? Where are your manners?” Richard stepped in, his voice weary. “Eleanor, honey, it’s not that. Our daughter has severe social anxiety. It’s not that she won’t talk; it’s a clinical condition. It’s a sickness.” The fire in Eleanor’s eyes flickered toward guilt for a split second, but Seraphina was faster. She wiped her eyes, muttering just loud enough for everyone to hear, “Social anxiety? Is that even a real thing? People just make up words for ‘being a jerk’ these days. If she wanted to play the ‘fragile’ card to get me kicked out, she should have at least googled ‘insomnia’ or ‘depression.’ It’s more believable.” Eleanor’s guilt vanished, replaced by a hardened sneer. “I told you, no one is taking Seraphina away from me. Not even my biological daughter.” I lowered my head, staring at the polished marble floor. I couldn’t look at her. “Since you’re so ‘terrified’ of people,” Eleanor continued, “we’ll just cancel the debutante ball we planned for you. Consider it done.” Seraphina’s eyes lit up with a predatory triumph. She looked at me, expecting to see me crushed, but instead, she caught the spark of pure, unadulterated joy in my eyes. Thank God. I didn’t have to be paraded around like a prize pony in front of hundreds of strangers. A gala sounded like a medieval torture chamber to me. Seraphina’s eyebrows knitted together. She looked genuinely baffled. 2 The next morning, I was jolted awake by a violent pounding on my door. When I opened it, a small mob was waiting for me. Seraphina was there, scratching at her arms frantically, her face blotchy and tear-stained. “Iris brought me breakfast this morning,” Seraphina sobbed. “I thought… I thought she was finally accepting me. But the moment I ate it, I started breaking out. The housekeeper found cheap, processed shrimp in the omelet. She knows I’m deathly allergic!” Eleanor’s hand swung through the air, aimed right for my face. Because I was already half-hidden behind the door, my instinct took over. I slammed the door shut. A blood-curdling scream echoed through the hallway. “AHHH! My hand! My hand!” Eleanor clutched her bruised fingers, her face purple with rage. “You heartless little bitch! First you try to kill Seraphina, and now you assault your own mother? You are a monster!” My heart was hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. “I didn’t… I didn’t give her breakfast,” I stammered through the wood. “I just woke up. I haven’t even left my room. I didn’t even know she had an allergy…” Eleanor glared at the door as if she could burn a hole through it. “If it wasn’t you, then who? Who else in this house has a reason to be jealous of her? Iris, allergies can be fatal. You tried to commit murder!” My brain was spinning, trying to find an exit strategy, a way to survive this logic-free zone. That’s when Hudson, my brother, spoke up. “Actually, Mom… I don’t think it was Iris.” He looked at the door, then back at Seraphina. “Think about it. Iris has social anxiety. Buying breakfast requires talking to people. Buying specific, ‘cheap’ shrimp requires even more interaction. She doesn’t know Seraphina. A person with her condition wouldn’t suddenly become a ‘social butterfly’ just to play a prank.” Panic flashed across Seraphina’s face. She gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. “Hudson… are you saying you don’t believe me? Mom said no one else hates me. If it wasn’t her, are you saying I did this to myself? I knew it… now that your real sister is here, I’m just garbage to you…” Hudson immediately folded, pulling her into a hug. “Seraphina, don’t say that! You’re my favorite sister. No one can ever replace you, okay?” Seraphina pouted, leaning into his chest. “I guess…” Her eyes darted around, landing on the door again. “But is ‘social anxiety’ even a real medical thing? Or is it just a TikTok trend? Is it that easy? You just act scared and suddenly you’re immune to consequences?” Hudson turned back toward my door, his expression hardening. “Is that it? Are you faking this whole ‘scared girl’ act just to get attention? That is pathetic, Iris. Truly twisted. I can only imagine how your foster parents raised you. They must have been bottom-feeders to produce someone so manipulative. You’re a disgrace to the Blackwood name.” Usually, I could tune out insults directed at me. I was used to being the weird kid. But when he brought my foster parents into it—the people who had actually loved me, who had kept me safe—I felt a spark of something hotter than fear. I peeked through the crack of the door, my eyes narrowed. “Don’t you dare talk about my parents like that, you arrogant prick.” “Who are you calling your parents?” Hudson’s voice rose to a roar. “Your parents are standing right here! Not only are you malicious, you’re ungrateful! No wonder they were so quick to ship you back to us. They probably sent you here to grift us for every cent of the inheritance!” My face went hot. My heart rate spiked into the red zone. I saw Seraphina hiding behind him, mocking me with a silent, toothy grin. I wanted to scream, to fight back, but my tongue felt like lead. The sheer weight of the emotion trapped in my chest was too much. The world tilted. The hallway blurred. Then, the lights went out. I collapsed onto the floor with a heavy thud. Hudson froze. “Mom… Mom, oh god. I think I just killed my sister.” 3 Hudson stood by the bed, looking like a kicked puppy as the doctor finished his exam. “I just yelled at her a little bit. How does someone just drop dead from words? Is she faking? Is this a trap to make me look like a villain?” The family doctor sighed, packing his stethoscope. “It’s a severe psychosomatic response. Her nervous system was overloaded by the stress. The fainting was a literal ‘system crash’ to protect her brain. You cannot trigger her like that.” The doctor looked Hudson dead in the eye. “No shouting. No insults. If you keep pushing her toward a mental breakdown, her heart might not handle the next ‘crash.’” Hudson’s face turned a muddy shade of grey. When I finally blinked my eyes open, I saw him recoil, his mouth opening to bark another order—then he remembered the doctor’s warning. He looked like he was swallowing a lemon. “Look,” he muttered, his voice strained and unnaturally polite. “Regardless of why you passed out, Seraphina is the one suffering from an allergy. Could you please… would you mind… apologizing to her? As a favor to me?” From that day on, Hudson treated me like I was made of spun glass. But his newfound caution only fueled Seraphina’s rage. A few days later, she came sprinting into the villa, drenched and shivering, throwing herself into Eleanor’s arms. “What happened?” Eleanor cried, grabbing a towel. Seraphina sobbed hysterically, shaking her head. “Don’t ask, Mom. Please. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have been near the water.” After ten minutes of “forced” questioning, Seraphina finally broke. “Iris… she pushed me into the pool! Mom, you know I can’t swim! I almost drowned! I thought I was never going to see you again!” Eleanor’s face contorted into a mask of fury. She pointed a finger at me. “You little piece of—!” Before the slur could leave her lips, Hudson lunged forward and clamped his hand over her mouth. “Shh! Mom, keep it down!” he hissed. “Do you want her to drop dead right here? You heard the doctor! No ‘triggering’ language!” Eleanor was turning purple, her chest heaving, but she didn’t dare make a sound. Hudson looked at me, his eyes twitching. “Iris, honey… could you please refrain from attempted homicide? If it’s not too much trouble?” Seraphina was sweating now, realize her drama was being muffled by medical fear. She bit her lip and whispered, “The doctor said no verbal triggers. He didn’t say we couldn’t use… other punishments.” She quickly covered her mouth. “Oh! I shouldn’t have said that! I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me!” Eleanor’s eyes snapped toward me, gleaming with a cruel epiphany. “You’re right. I have plenty of ways to handle this.” She leaned in, her voice a cold, sharp whisper. “Iris. Starting today, your things are being moved to the attic. I’m locking the door. No one is to give you food, and you are not to leave that room. If you want to play ‘deadly’ games with Seraphina, let’s see how you feel when you’re facing the brink of starvation. Maybe a little hunger will clear your head.” Seraphina’s face lit up. “I’ll show her the way! I want to help her reflect on her actions.” She dragged me up to the dusty, cramped attic. “I hope you like it here, ‘sis.’ It’s a bit of a step down from your suite, isn’t it? But Mom’s only doing this for your own good. Adversity builds character, right?” I looked around the attic. My pulse, for the first time in weeks, slowed down to a peaceful rhythm. It was isolated. The windows were small and high. No one would knock. No one would stare at me. There was a massive, old-fashioned wardrobe in the corner that looked like the perfect place to build a nest. It was dark, quiet, and blissfully lonely. Seraphina was waiting for a breakdown. When she saw the look of genuine relief on my face, her insults died in her throat. The heavy iron bolt slid into place outside the door. I turned and flopped onto the small cot. Was this supposed to be suffering? Compared to the trailer I’d lived in with my foster mom during the lean years, this “attic” was a boutique hotel. I waited until the footsteps faded, then I reached into the hidden pockets of my oversized coat. I pulled out a stash of granola bars, beef jerky, and dried mango. Socially anxious people are, by nature, doomsday preppers. We always assume the worst is about to happen, so we pack accordingly. To me, a hoard of snacks is better than a bank account. As long as I have calories and oxygen, I can survive anything. I pulled out a fully charged power bank, grabbed my snacks, and crawled into the giant wardrobe. The darkness felt like a warm hug. The only downside was the lack of a toothbrush, but I could live with that for a few days. Three days later, Hudson couldn’t take it anymore. “Mom, enough. She’s sick. You can’t starve a person with a mental illness. She’s your daughter, for God’s sake.” Eleanor sipped her tea, her expression bored. “Relax. I did my research. A person can survive three days without food. She’s fine.” She gestured to the butler. “Arthur, has the girl learned her lesson?” Arthur took a deep breath, his face pale. “Ma’am… I think the Young Mistress has turned into a feral animal.”
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