Chapter 3

CH3

POV: Sophia Morph

Becoming Isabella

Sophia had always believed she deserved more.

More money.

More luxury.

More recognition.

And definitely more than this house with its cracked ceilings and peeling paint.

She stood in front of her mirror, studying her reflection carefully.

Her mother’s words echoed in her mind.

The Hartwell family is searching for their lost daughter.

A slow breath left her lips.

“How would that even work?” Sophia asked, folding her arms across her chest.

Victoria closed the bedroom door behind her.

“It works,” she said calmly, “because you fit.”

Sophia let out a short laugh.

“Mother, the entire country just saw the birthmark.”

Victoria’s expression didn’t change.

“Yes. And?”

Sophia’s smile faded.

“And I don’t have one.”

Victoria stepped closer.

“But someone in this house does.”

The silence that followed was heavy.

Almost suffocating.

Realization dawned slowly.

“Elena?” Sophia whispered.

Victoria nodded once.

Sophia stared at her mother, searching her face for doubt.

There was none.

“You’re serious.”

“Very.”

Sophia turned back to the mirror.

A billionaire heiress.

Private jets.

Designer wardrobes.

Boardrooms filled with men twice her age listening when she spoke.

Power.

The word wrapped around her thoughts like silk.

It sounded unreal.

But it also sounded possible.

“She looks nothing like them,” Sophia said slowly.

Victoria smirked.

“At three years old, children change. Faces mature. Features sharpen. And grief…” she paused, “…grief blinds people.”

Sophia considered that.

Grieving brothers.

Desperate for closure.

Hungry to believe.

“And the mark?” she asked quietly.

Victoria opened her handbag and removed a small cosmetic kit.

She placed it carefully on the vanity table.

“There are specialists who can replicate anything,” she said. “Temporary skin pigment. Layered detailing. Even texture.”

Sophia’s pulse began to race.

This wasn’t fantasy anymore.

This was strategy.

“What about Elena?” Sophia asked after a moment.

Victoria’s eyes hardened instantly.

“Elena has lived under this roof because I allowed it,” she said coldly. “If she learns the truth, she will ruin everything.”

Sophia swallowed.

“She won’t.”

The certainty in her mother’s voice left no room for argument.

Sophia looked at herself again.

Tilted her chin.

Lifted her shoulders.

Could she do it?

Could she walk into a billionaire family and claim their name without trembling?

Her reflection stared back at her.

Confident.

Ambitious.

Unapologetic.

“Yes,” she whispered.

Victoria smiled slowly.

“That’s my daughter.”

Later that night, Sophia stood quietly in Elena’s doorway.

Elena sat cross-legged on the bed, folding freshly washed clothes with careful precision.

The small room was neat.

Simple.

Unremarkable.

“Sophia?” Elena asked softly.

Sophia studied her for a long moment.

Elena looked so…

Ordinary.

No polish.

No ambition burning behind her eyes.

Just quiet acceptance.

Unaware that her entire identity was about to be stolen.

“Nothing,” Sophia said lightly. “Just wanted to see what you were doing.”

Elena gave a small smile.

“I’ll be done soon. I still have to clean the kitchen.”

Of course she did.

Sophia nodded and turned away.

As she walked down the hallway, her expression shifted.

Softness disappeared.

Ordinary people stayed ordinary.

She refused to.

In the living room, Victoria dialed a number from memory.

“Yes,” she said in a low voice. “We need a private appointment.”

A pause.

“Yes. Cosmetic alteration. Temporary, but realistic.”

Her eyes flickered toward Sophia.

“We’ll be visiting the Hartwell estate soon.”

She ended the call slowly.

And for a moment, she allowed herself to imagine it.

Marble floors gleaming under crystal chandeliers.

Servants waiting for instructions.

Luxury cars lined up at the entrance.

Not this house.

Not this life.

In the kitchen, Elena suddenly paused.

The plate in her hand slipped slightly before she steadied it.

For reasons she couldn’t explain, a chill ran down her spine.

The air felt heavier.

As if something had shifted.

As if a decision had been made without her knowledge.

Across the city, in a mansion guarded by iron gates and armed security—

Two powerful brothers were preparing to reopen a seventeen-year search.

They had no idea.

The wrong girl was preparing to become their sister.

And the real one was washing dishes.