Chapter 3

The villa was so enormous that it felt like a maze.

Francis carried me upstairs and pushed open the door to a south-facing children's bedroom. Thick blackout curtains covered the windows, and the air was filled with the smell of medicine.

I immediately spotted the little girl hiding behind the curtains, trembling from head to toe. That was my twin sister, Emily Sterling.

She had soft, fair skin and features so strikingly similar to mine. Her face was flushed bright red with a fever, and damp strands of hair clung to her forehead.

The moment she saw Francis carrying me inside, she stumbled forward on her unsteady little legs. She seemed eager to get closer to see me properly, yet she didn't dare to approach. Her large eyes fixed on me with intense longing.

"Emily, why are you burning up so badly? Where's the nanny? Martha!" Francis touched Emily's forehead and instantly panicked, shouting for the help.

Several nannies rushed into the room, frantically preparing to carry Emily to the medical room for a fever shot. As one of them lifted Emily into her arms, Emily struggled and stretched a hand toward me, as if she wanted to grab onto me.

As her sleeve slid down, I briefly caught sight of her arm. It was fair and delicate but covered in purple bruises. There were also pinch marks and even tiny needle marks.

I looked away after a single glance. It was not my problem.

I didn't understand sympathy. My logic was that the strong preyed on the weak. That was just natural order. As long as nobody bothered me, I couldn't be bothered to get involved.

After Emily was carried away, the room fell quiet. Francis set me down on a couch and carefully began applying ointment to the "old bruise" on my arm.

As he did that, his gaze gradually grew sorrowful. "Ethan, Emily is your twin sister." His voice grew hoarse, as though he were reliving an agonizing memory.

"When your mother gave birth to you two, she suffered excessive blood loss and died. At the same time, my company was under attack by rivals. Everything was chaotic. Those people took advantage of the situation and broke into the hospital, wanting to take both of you.

"The security only managed to save Emily. And you… You were taken. I spent six years looking for you. It wasn't until recent DNA database matching that I finally found you."

With that, he walked to a safe and pulled out an old photograph that had been preserved with great care. He handed it to me, saying, "This is your mother, Wendy White. You look exactly like her."

I lowered my eyes to the photo. The woman in it wore a gentle smile. Her eyes and features were indeed very similar to mine and that weak Emily's. But what interested me more was that she also looked somewhat like Barbara, the stepmother downstairs whose dress I'd just sliced.

I raised my head and looked past Francis' shoulder toward the half-open door. Standing in the shadows of the hallway was Barbara. At some point, she'd already changed her clothes.

Her eyes were locked on the photograph in Francis' hand, then on me. The sweetness had vanished from her face, replaced by unconcealable resentment and jealousy. I met her gaze without expression.

This family seemed even more entertaining than I'd expected.

…

For the next two weeks, Barbara played the role of a loving stepmother perfectly whenever Francis was around. I found myself wondering whether she had given up on playing games with me.

At night, I often heard noises coming from the master bedroom. Barbara always wore revealing nightgowns and tried every trick imaginable to seduce Francis. She clearly was desperate to have a child of her own so that she could secure her place in the family.