Married To A Billionaire Tycoon After Divorce

My hands trembled as I clutched my phone, unable to believe what I was seeing. It was a prank live streaming site, and most of its viewers came from wealthy or high-society backgrounds.

After my parents divorced, I grew up poor, while my twin sister, Ruby Stone, lived surrounded by luxury.

What I had thought was my life had been nothing more than a game—a six-year-long live stream, created solely for the amusement of others.

I'd always assumed Mom had taken Ruby to another city. But apparently, she'd been with Dad the whole time.

I sat at the diner's entrance, baking in the summer sun, but a chill ran straight through me.

Then Ruby sent more messages.

Ruby: "Aria, you're the one Mom and Dad never loved."

Ruby: "As your sister, I can't help feeling bad seeing you struggle like this. Living in a huge villa while you fight just to get by eats at me."

My hands felt impossibly heavy. I had no idea how to respond.

"Aria! Clean these two tables, now!" my boss barked.

This was the part-time job I had to do every day after school.

After my parents split, Dad got hooked on gambling. He never gave me an allowance, and only if he happened to win at cards would he reluctantly hand me some money.

I'd landed this diner job only after a lot of pleading.

By 9:00 pm, I finished my shift and trudged back home, completely drained.

It was the middle of summer, and our tiny apartment on the top floor had no air conditioning. Stepping inside felt like walking straight into a sauna.

Mom, Dad, and Ruby probably couldn't even picture it. They were likely relaxing in their huge villa with the AC blasting.

The light bulb flickered weakly, on the verge of burning out again.

Ever since Dad and I moved into this apartment, he hardly ever came home. I used to think he was busy, but it turned out that on the days he wasn't around, he was just spending time with Ruby.

Did Mom and Dad ever stop to think about me—their own child—trying to survive here? I'd been living like this for nearly six years.

I looked around the apartment. There were probably cameras hidden all over.

From the corner of the kitchen came the familiar rustling. I knew it was another mouse scurrying around. At first, it scared me, but I had gotten used to it.

Who could've guessed that in this apartment, mice would be my longest companions?

I clicked open the live stream link again. The live stream from my apartment was ranked first, and the view count was through the roof.

The contrast between the dim apartment and the bright, sprawling villa was sharp. On my face was pain. On the other face, which looked just like mine, was joy.

In that moment, I felt like a mouse too, sneaking around and watching someone else's happiness from the shadows.