Just as I was about to smash the ashtray over my sister’s head, a string of comments flashed before my eyes. [Seriously? Plot-induced stupidity? Why would anyone treat a fake sister better than their real one?] [Right? And isn’t she supposed to be a badass CEO? Can’t even spot this basic setup?] [There’s literally surveillance footage. Just pull it up.] My hand slowly loosened around the ashtray. It was like a veil in my brain had been ripped away, and everything suddenly clicked into place. Of course. The girl in front of me, Christie Ferguson, was my real sister. She had been switched at birth and raised in hardship. And yet, not once had she blamed anyone. Ever since she came home, she’d gone out of her way to treat everyone with kindness. And what had we done? Showered a fake heiress with love while treating the real one like dirt. “Don’t be mad, sis,” the imposter sniffled prettily, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Christie didn’t mean to steal my designs…” I slapped her hard, and the room fell silent in shock. “Well, I didn’t mean for my hand to land on your face either,” I said calmly.
“Tania, have you lost your mind?” Lionel Ferguson’s voice was sharp, his expression darker than ever. He was the eldest son and the golden child, the one I used to measure myself against. “What the hell was that for?” he snapped. “Why’d you hit Betty?” I pointed to the security camera above us. “You’re all accusing Christie of stealing the designs, right? So why don’t we check the footage and find out?” Silence filled the room in an instant. Betty Ferguson was the first to panic. “It’s just a misunderstanding! I swear I never thought Christie took them!” Lionel tried to sweep it under the rug, his voice stiff with authority. “Enough. We’re not making a scene over something so trivial. No one brings this up again. Got it?” Then he turned to Christie, all condescension and control. “You should be thanking Betty. Without her, you wouldn’t be back in this house.” Christie stood her ground, though her voice trembled. “Shouldn’t she be thanking me? She stole twenty years of my life. “She’s living a life that was supposed to be mine.” Lionel wasn’t used to being challenged. He saw Christie’s defiance as insolence. Even though she was right, Lionel still believed she was unreasonable. Thus, he became furious. “You’re out of line. Typical backwater mentality. Tonight, no dinner. You’ll stay in the basement until you’ve reflected properly.” Christie went pale. She stumbled back in terror. “No, please! I’m sorry! I’ll apologize to Betty! Just don’t send me there!” She dropped to her knees, trembling, forehead to the floor. I looked at her, feeling heartbroken. It hit me then: whatever had happened in that basement, it had broken her. And now, she would beg for mercy even at the mention of the basement. Just then, I thought of the stories I had once read. This felt like one of those “break the heroine until she’s obedient” torture arcs. In the end, the heroine, who had once tried her best to resist and seek freedom, turned into something without a soul. I hated Lionel in that moment, but I hated the old me even more. If I’d opened my eyes sooner, maybe I could’ve saved her from all those nightmares. “Punishment fits the crime,” Lionel said coldly. “This isn’t something a few tears can fix. Guards!” At his command, the Ferguson family’s bodyguards lined up, well-trained and ruthless. “Take Christie to the basement. No one lets her out without my say-so.” Lionel was always domineering and tough, and his words were law.
“No, please!” Christie scrambled to his feet and grabbed Lionel’s pant leg. “I’ll bark like a dog, Lionel! Just don’t send me down there!” She lifted a leg, mimicking a dog marking its territory. My chest seized. I could barely breathe. Every bit of air came into my lungs with unbearable pain, as if someone was squeezing my heart. “Don’t touch her!” My voice cracked through the room. I rushed to her side, helping her up. “If anyone lays a hand on her, they’ll have to go through me first.” The room froze. [Queen move! Tania is finally standing up for Christie!] [Lionel is disgusting. He can hear Betty’s inner thoughts! He knows Betty framed her and still sides with the fake.] [I really don’t get him. Is he trying to wife his fake sister?] That last one made me choke. I thought Lionel was just as blind and stupid as I was. However, he was trying to marry Betty? “Then punish me too,” Betty said softly, stepping between us. She trembled slightly, tears in her eyes. Clearly afraid, she was still playing the victim to the hilt. As expected, Lionel softened immediately. He pulled her over, cupped her face, and wiped her tears. “You’re too kind, sweetheart. My little fool.” I wanted to throw up. Betty whimpered. I clenched my fists. “This is over. We’re leaving,” I said, patting Christie’s hand. “Come on.” She was still in shock, barely moving. I didn’t wait for Lionel; I just pulled her out of there. This house was a nightmare. I wasn’t letting her stay here another night. I’d take her to my place in the city. When I told her, she looked stunned. “Tania… are you okay?” she asked, touching my forehead. I batted her hand away, awkward. “Don’t get used to it. I messed up, okay? I always sided with Betty without thinking. “But you’re my sister, Christie. My real one.” She burst into tears and threw her arms around me. I held her tightly, gently rubbing her back. After she finally cried herself to sleep, I started digging. I spoke with the housekeeper and the staff responsible for Christie’s daily care. Soon, I learned about the basement’s secrets. Lionel, that monster! He’d forced her to watch videos of herself being harassed by thugs, made her set her own screams as her alarm tone, and pasted their faces all over her room so they were the first and last thing she saw every day. He turned that basement into her personal hell, torturing Christie for eternity. It had only been two weeks since she returned. No wonder she looked like a ghost: gaunt, fragile, hollow beneath her clothes. And standing next to Betty, who always looked pampered and radiant, Christie looked like she’d been dragged out of a war zone. No trace of the heiress she was born to be.
“No, don’t hit me! I’ll be good. I’ll take it off…” Christie was crying in her sleep, whimpering like a frightened animal. Hearing her muttered dream-talk felt like someone had carved a hole straight through my chest. I still remember the day Mom told me I was going to have a little sister named Christie. From that moment on, I couldn’t stop imagining her. Every morning before school, I’d whisper to Mom’s belly. And after school, while other kids ran off to play, I always rushed home, hoping to feel her kick. I waited ten long months. And when I finally held her, I made a silent vow: I would be the best big sister in the world. Anything she wanted, I’d make it happen, no matter what it cost me. But I never got the chance. She was swapped before I could watch her grow. And the one I protected, pampered, and loved for over twenty years was a fake. Worse, after Christie came back, I still helped that imposter bully her. The more I thought about it, the sicker I felt. I slapped myself hard a few times. [Wait, is Tania’s character breaking? What’s with the sudden switch?] [No, this isn’t a breakdown. It’s a breakthrough.] [Breakthrough or not, a few slaps won’t make up for years of abuse.] The comments rolled in like Judgment Day. My face burned as I read them. They were right. What mattered now was figuring out how to make it right. If the bullet points were anything to go by, Betty wasn’t done scheming. And with Lionel still firmly on her side, even my help might not be enough to keep Christie safe. She needed to protect herself. I spent the night weighing my options. And finally, I made a decision: I’d help her train to build her strength, confidence, and independence. When I explained it to her, she didn’t hesitate for a second. “You know it’s going to be hard, right? Like, really hard,” I warned. “You sure you’re ready?” Christie nodded, eyes blazing with something I’d never seen in her before. “I’ve never been more sure of anything. I’ve learned the hard way; no one’s coming to save me. I have to save myself. “I’ve always wanted to learn many things. My adoptive parents tried their best. “But they could barely afford my schooling, let alone anything extra. I never dared ask for more. “Now that I finally have a chance, I’ll take it. Even if it kills me.”
After hearing that, I didn’t hold back. The first step was securing her peace. I used a carefully laid trap to get Lionel out of the country on business. It was risky, but after years of working behind the scenes in the family company, I knew how to cover my tracks. Even if he got suspicious, he wouldn’t act against me easily. With him out of the way, operation Rebuild Christie began. I hired a top-tier martial arts master, sparing no expense. Whenever I had free time, I trained with her. And she didn’t disappoint me. Christie was a natural: resilient, fast, laser-focused. The master even joked that if she’d started earlier, she could’ve swept national tournaments and brought home gold for the country. I brought in private tutors, too. While Betty paraded herself at charity balls and flirted her way through cocktail parties, Christie soaked up knowledge like a sponge. Languages, finance, etiquette, tech…she dove into it all. And slowly, as the fake bathed in shallow applause, the real heiress began to rise. Betty stayed busy collecting admirers. One day, two heirs of powerful families brawled over her. Next, she was orchestrating a public showdown between a chart-topping idol and a Grammy-winning singer, both of whom were fighting for a dinner date with her. And she was proud of it. Time passed. Lionel eventually returned. For reasons I couldn’t comprehend, he suddenly decided to host a party for Christie. The moment I heard, I took Christie to get dolled up. She was nervous. Of course, she was. This was her very first banquet. “Hey,” I said, gently squeezing her hand, “I’ll be right there the whole time.” She smiled, flashing those tiny tiger teeth I’d missed so much. I’d managed to put some weight back on her; her skin looked healthier, and her eyes brighter. Even without makeup, there was a quiet beauty forming in her face, one that outshone the fake by miles. Now, with grace, knowledge, and steel beneath her softness, Christie didn’t just look like an heiress. She was one. “I’m not scared anymore,” she said, squeezing back. We entered the party together. Of course, Betty came rushing over with her usual entourage. “Tania! Christie!” she chirped, overly sweet. I didn’t even hesitate and shoved her back. “Not interested. Back off.” Betty stumbled, clearly not expecting that. Her eyes welled with tears on command. “Tania, weren’t you always so kind to Betty?” one of her lapdogs piped up. “If your brother sees you make Betty cry, he won’t be happy.” I narrowed my eyes. Before I could speak, Christie stepped forward. “She’s crying, and no one even touched her. Can we please stop pretending she’s anything but a walking green flag parade?” Her voice trembled, but her words landed. One of the girls sneered, “Look who thinks she’s a real debutante now.” Another leaned in and sniffed dramatically. “You guys smell that? Smells like… bumpkin.” “Hahaha…” Laughter exploded around them like fireworks. They sounded like chickens squawking in a gold-plated coop, and they thought they were royalty. “I don’t argue with idiots,” I said coldly, pulling Christie behind me.
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