THE SWITCHED HEIRESS

Hazel’s first days with the Jacksons were strange. Everything around her felt different. The house was not big like Valentina’s. There were no marble floors, no tall mirrors, no maids walking by. Instead, there were narrow halls, uneven wooden boards, and walls where the paint had started to peel. At first Hazel felt out of place. She didn’t understand why she was here. Where was the park? Where was Valentina? She remembered the woman screaming, “My baby!” but she hadn’t run back. She hadn’t come for her. Hazel didn’t know what that meant yet, but it left a small ache in her chest. Marie tried her best to comfort her. She was gentle with everything she did. She brushed Hazel’s hair, tied it with a simple ribbon, and made porridge that smelled warm and sweet. Hazel didn’t eat much at first. She just pushed the spoon around in the bowl. Marie didn’t force her. She only said, “It’s okay, little one. When you’re ready.” Jackson was different. He was taller than anyone Hazel had known,

The sun was low in the sky when Hazel stepped out of the classroom. The air carried that heavy smell of dust and chalk, the kind that always clung to her uniform after a long last day of school. Students spilled into the hallway, their laughter and shouts echoing, mixing with the squeak of shoes and the banging of lockers. Hazel hugged her books to her chest, waiting for the rush to thin before walking home. “Hey,” a voice said softly, and when she turned, Charles was standing there, his usual crooked smile tugging at his lips. His hair was messy, like he’d run his hands through it all day, and his tie was loose. He always looked half put-together, like he belonged to another world where people didn’t care about rules. “You waited?” Hazel asked, tilting her head. Charles shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe I just like walking the same direction as you.” She tried not to smile, but she failed. “You could’ve just said yes.” He grinned wider. “Yes.” The walk home was something Hazel h

The Jackson house had never felt so heavy.Since those people had come by, nothing felt normal anymore. Marie moved through the rooms like a shadow, wiping at her eyes when she thought no one was looking. Jackson barely spoke, only grunting short answers at dinner, as if words themselves had become dangerous. Even Daniel, always cheerful, had gone quiet. He watched Hazel with worried eyes, asking nothing but saying everything without speaking a word.Hazel hated it. She hated the silence, the weight, the fear that sat over them like storm clouds. Every little sound seemed too loud, the scrape of a chair, the clink of cutlery, the creak of the floorboards. She felt like the house was no longer a home, but a cage.That night, she couldn’t take it anymore.“I’m going for a walk,” she muttered after dinner. She didn’t wait for an answer, didn’t wait for Marie to say “be careful.” She just pulled her sweater around her and stepped out into the cooling night.The streets of the slump were q

Hazel didn’t sleep. She lay stiff on the oversized bed, staring at the golden chandelier above her. The sheets were silk, the kind of thing she’d once seen only in magazines. But all she could think about was the sound of Marie’s scream, the sight of Daniel fighting, the rough way Jackson’s hands had held his son back to stop him from getting hurt. The house was too silent. At the Jackson bungalow, the night was never this quiet. There were always noises, Daniel’s soft snores, the creak of the old ceiling fan, the distant sound of neighbors’ radios. The bungalow felt alive, even in the dark. But here? Nothing. No breathing walls, no creaking wood. Just silence thick enough to choke her. Hazel hugged her knees to her chest and whispered Charles’s name under her breath. Please don’t leave me. Please don’t forget me.

The Castell mansion moved according to Hazel’s rhythm now.Not Edwin’s. Not the board’s. Hers.At twenty-six, Hazel Castell had mastered what the world worshiped, grace laced with quiet authority. Her words never trembled, her movements never faltered, and when she spoke, even Edwin’s most arrogant associates listened.The press called her The Princess of Castell Industries.Inside the mansion, the staff called her Miss Castell, and no one dared to speak her name with less than reverence.The day began with routine perfection. The marble halls glowed in the early light, the fragrance of fresh lilies trailing behind her as she moved from one end of the mansion to another. Her silk blouse caught faint gold under the chandeliers, her expression serene.“Miss Castell,” her assistant said, falling into step beside her. “Mr. Castell would like to see you in the study. Mr. Dimitri’s already there.”Hazel’s hand paused briefly over her planner.Of course he was.She dismissed the assistant wi