Chapter 1

On the first day I was locked in the basement, my brother, Ralph Stone, returned to the living room and smashed the water glass on the table in frustration.

"Is Catherine really one of us? Part of the Stone family?" he huffed. "Are you sure the DNA test didn't get screwed up? How could someone like her come from our blood?"

Our parents' faces darkened at his words. The nanny stammered, "I think she looked really bad earlier. Her face was turning purple from the struggle. Shouldn't we take her to the hospital?"

Ralph whipped around. "Shut up! You feel sorry for her? What about Betty? Girls care about their looks more than anything. Catherine knew well that Betty was allergic to mangoes, yet she left half of it right there on the table, making Betty break out in all those rashes. She's always pulling these sneaky stunts. Who does she think she's fooling?"

His face twisted with disgust. "She brought this on herself."

The nanny opened her mouth, then closed it again. Just then, a soft voice floated down from upstairs. "Ralph, don't get so worked up."

Betty Stone leaned weakly against the railing, her eyes brimming with tears.

Somehow, my tear-streaked face flashed across Ralph's mind. He shook his head to clear it and hurried over to support her. "You're still recovering from the allergy. Why did you come out?"

Pale as a sheet, Betty hesitated. "Don't blame Catherine. I'm sure she didn't mean it."

Ralph caressed her cheek, full of concern. "You don't need to defend her. She deserves every bit of this."

But Betty's sobs only grew more heart-wrenching. "It's all my fault. If I hadn't lost track of her when we were little, she never would have been kidnapped."

Betty and I were twins. At five years old, she told me she was going to buy candy and asked me to stay right where I was. Instead, she went home alone.

By the time our parents realized, I had already been taken. For 16 years, I endured beatings and abuse in a remote, backward mountain village.

One day, my foster father looked at my developing body with a leering grin and reached for me. In that moment of utter despair, my parents finally found me.

I thought I had escaped hell at last. I never imagined that in this world of wealth and comfort, even staying alive would be a daily struggle.

...

Ralph squeezed his eyes shut. "Stop taking everything on yourself. Catherine is rotten to the core. It has nothing to do with anyone else. As her brother, I'll teach me how to act like a decent person. That's the least I can do."

Betty nodded. "I'll help. Together, we'll mold her into a true heiress."

Our parents nodded in approval. At the same time, I floated over and slapped them both across the face. Yet their smiles never faltered. My hand passed straight through their bodies like smoke.

I had forgotten that I was already dead.

In my final moments, my face twisted in agony as I clutched my chest. The suffocating pain filled me with pure despair.

Even then, I still hoped Ralph would burst through the door and rush me to the hospital. I hoped my parents would save me one more time.

But nothing came. My consciousness faded, my vision blurred into darkness. Only my hearing lingered. I heard Ralph outside the door giving orders, "No food or water without my permission."

The nanny hesitated. "Won't that be dangerous?"

"What harm could a few days of hunger do?" Ralph snorted. "This is for her own good. She won't learn without a little hardship."

I smiled bitterly, laughing at both Ralph and myself. I remembered how, when Betty once skipped a few bites because she was in a bad mood, Ralph noticed immediately and cooked her favorite little cake.

When it came to me, going hungry for days meant nothing. I didn't understand. I was his sister and their biological daughter. Why wouldn't they love me? Why wouldn't they believe me?

Every time those looks of annoyance, disappointment, and hatred turned my way, I felt as if I had already died—back in that summer when I was five.

Carrying that burning resentment, I finally lost consciousness and sank into total darkness.