Chapter two

I knew things wouldn't end there. A girl like Tiffany Weston doesn't cry and give up. She cries to reload.

She will definitely plot something new to make my parents hate me.

And she didn't even wait 24 hours.

The room that should’ve been mine was now a walk-in closet for her and I the real one, was sent to the east side,a small bedroom, with no decorations.

No vanity, no walk-in closet.

“The Weston family sure knows how to welcome their real daughter” I said sarcastically.

The room she claimed, she decorated was this?

Tiffany was the first to speak.

“Sister if you don’t like the room I’ll give you mine, it’s just_ just that my things are much and it’ll take time why don’t you stay here for now I’ll tell mom and dad to decorate another room according to your taste how about” She said like she was being considerate.

But I knew she was telling me she owns the place.

I smiled. And said nothing. I wanted to see what she’ll do next.

When I didn’t respond she hugged my mother with red eyes.

“Mom” she said softly

“That’s enough Veronica your sister has lived in that room for 18 years how about you let her have it. there’re many rooms you can pick from any of them and we’ll get it decorated according to your taste no need to be petty. Margaret said with displeasure in her voice.

Ethan scoff from behind

While Tiffany made a face to me as if saying ‘you see. You can’t take my place in their heart just because you’re their real daughter.

“I see “ i sneered

She wanted my room no way. I wanted everything that belongs to me, I had the maid throw out her things every bit of them and change the whole setting to my taste. The pink paint, cute dolls and princess dresses I removed everything.

Tiffany cried all night in my mother’s arms but i couldn’t be bother with her.

I don’t pamper princesses i break them.

That night was my welcome-back dinner. 20 guests. All of Weston's business partners, old money friends, all there to see the "real Weston daughter finally returned."

My mother, Margaret, had ordered a custom white dress for me. Tiffany was in red. Of course — she would never let the lost daughter wear the power color on her first night.

I came downstairs late on purpose. Everyone stared.

Tiffany ran to me, all smiles again, like the morning never happened. She linked her arm through mine. Tight. Too tight to be friendly.

"Sister, you look beautiful! Mommy said you grew up in... outside, right? I'm so happy you could find a dress," she whispered loud enough for the two aunties next to us to hear.

Outside. She made it sound like I grew up in a barn.

I smiled. "Yes, I did. In fact, my adoptive parents taught me how to spot a fake smile. You're doing great at it."

Her grip tightened. Her nails dug into my arm.

Then dinner started.

Halfway through the main course, Tiffany stood up, holding a small velvet box, tears in her eyes. Perfect timing. Everyone was watching.

"Mommy, Daddy, I have an announcement," she said, voice trembling. "I know Veronica is back and she is the real daughter... so I think it's time I step aside."

The room gasped.

"I've decided to move out. I found a small apartment near school. I don't want my sister to feel like I'm taking her space anymore. I've already packed."

My mother burst into tears. "Tiffany! No!"

My father frowned. "Don't be ridiculous."

It was brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. If she leaves, I become the evil biological daughter who kicked out the poor innocent adopted angel who loved this family for 18 years. My parents will resent me forever. The newspapers tomorrow: "Weston Real Daughter Forces Adopted Daughter Out On First Night."

She looked at me, waiting for me to beg her to stay. Waiting for me to look cruel if I didn't.

I stood up too. Slowly.

I picked up my wine glass.

"Tiffany, don't be silly," I said, my voice soft and sisterly. "You don't need to move out."

She smiled — victory.

"Because I already called the movers for you this afternoon."

The entire table choked.

I clapped twice. The housekeeper came in pushing a rack — with all of Tiffany's dresses that were still hanging in MY closet.

"See? I noticed you left half your wardrobe in my room. I thought you were just being forgetful. So I had them packed for you. And Ethan helped me — we found your diary too, under the mattress in my room. Should I read it?"

Tiffany went white.

Because in that diary, which my little brother Ethan found while helping me reclaim my closet, there was one line she wrote yesterday morning:

_"She's back. She thinks she's better because of blood. I will make sure Mom and Dad send her back where she came from. She won't last a week."_

I didn't need to read it. I just held it up.

My mother, Margaret, who hasn't suffered a single doubt about her adopted princess in 18 years, finally looked at Tiffany. Really looked.

"Tiffany... is that yours?"

Tiffany started crying again. But this time, no one ran to hug her.

Ethan leaned over to me and whispered, "Savage level 2. I told you I like you, big sis."

Tiffany's plot failed on night one.

But I know girls like her. She has 18 years of my parents' love as a weapon.

This war just started.

And I was going to fight till the end.