Chapter 1: The Poisoned Chalice

I stared into the cracked bathroom mirror of the St. Jude’s Foster Home, my reflection unrecognizable. My face was a swollen, red landscape of hives. My throat felt like it was being squeezed by a vice, and every breath was a ragged whistle.

Peanut oil. Someone had spiked my morning oatmeal.

Today was the “Grand Gala”—the one day a year wealthy benefactors came to scope us out like purebred puppies. And specifically, today was the day they were coming. The Sterlings. Old money, pharmaceutical tycoons, the kind of people who didn’t just have money; they had power.

I knew they were my biological parents. I also knew that the girl standing behind me, looking at my disfigured face with mock concern, knew it too.

“Oh my god, Nina,” Gwen said, her voice dripping with a sweetness that made me want to retch. She placed a hand on my shoulder.

“You look terrible. You can’t go out there. You’ll scare them away.”

I looked at her in the reflection. Gwen. My “best friend.” The girl I had shared a bunk with for ten years. The girl who had just slipped peanut oil into my breakfast knowing full well it could kill me.

“I can’t breathe,” I rasped, playing my part. I needed her to believe she had won.

“Don’t worry,” Gwen said, her eyes gleaming with predatory excitement.

“I’ll cover for you. Mrs. Halloway is already panicking. I told her I’d take your spot in the lineup. I know all the answers you prepared. I can be you for a day.”

She wasn’t just offering to stand in. She was offering to become me.

“But… the locket,” I wheezed, clutching my chest.

“They need to see the locket.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Gwen said, her fingers already nimble, reaching for the silver heirloom hidden under my pillow—the only thing my mother had left me.

“I’ll just show it to them, explain you’re sick, and bring them to you later. I promise.”

I nodded weak, tears streaming down my swollen cheeks. Not tears of sadness. Tears of relief.

Take it, I thought. Take the name. Take the heritage. Take the curse.

Because Gwen didn’t know the truth. She didn’t know that I had lived this life already. In my past life, I walked out that door, claimed my birthright, and entered the Sterling mansion. I thought I was a princess entering a castle. I didn’t know I was livestock entering a slaughterhouse.

“You’re a lifesaver, Gwen,” I whispered, closing my eyes.

“I know,” she smirked, pocketing the silver locket.

“Rest now, Nina. I’ve got this.”

She checked her makeup one last time—perfectly applied to look natural and innocent—and slipped out the door. I waited until her footsteps faded down the hall.

The moment she was gone, I stopped wheezing. I stood up straight, ignored the itching of my skin, and walked to the window. I watched as the sleek black limousines pulled into the gravel driveway. The Sterlings had arrived.

And the lamb was walking right out to meet the wolves.

Chapter 2: The Performance of a Lifetime

From the second-floor window, I had the perfect vantage point. It was like watching a play where you already know the tragic ending.

The courtyard was buzzing. Mrs. Halloway was fluttering around nervously, trying to make twenty ragtag teenagers look presentable. And there was Gwen, standing front and center, wearing my favorite white dress—the one I had saved for special occasions.

A tall, imposing man stepped out of the first limousine. Marcus Sterling. He looked exactly like he did on the covers of Forbes magazine—sharp suit, silver fox hair, eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses. Beside him was Evelyn Sterling, a woman whose beauty was so icy it could freeze hell over.

Then, the brother. Caleb. He looked like the All-American dream—varsity jacket, perfect jawline, warm smile. In my last life, I had worshipped him. I had thought he was my protector. I involuntarily shivered, remembering the cold touch of his hands when he locked the basement door.

Gwen made her move.

She was holding a tray of iced tea for the guests. As she approached Caleb, she tripped. It was a masterpiece of physical comedy. The tray went flying, glass shattered, and she fell gracefully to the grass.

“Oh no!” she cried out, her voice pitching perfectly between distress and embarrassment.

Caleb was there in an instant, helping her up.

“Easy there. You okay?”

“I’m so clumsy,” Gwen stammered, looking up at him with wide, doe eyes. Then, she gasped, clutching her chest.

“My locket! Where is it?”

“We’ll find it,” Caleb said, his voice soothing.

They scanned the grass. A moment later, Caleb plucked the silver locket from a patch of clover. He went to hand it back, but paused. Evelyn Sterling had walked over. She froze.

“Let me see that,” Evelyn commanded, her voice trembling. She snatched the locket from her son’s hand. She flipped it over, reading the engraving on the back. Her hand flew to her mouth.

“Where did you get this?” Evelyn demanded, gripping Gwen’s shoulders.

“It… it’s mine,” Gwen lied, her voice shaking.

“I’ve had it since I was a baby. It’s the only thing I have left of my real parents.”

Evelyn grabbed Gwen’s wrist, turning it over to reveal a small mole near her pulse point. I had told Gwen about that mole years ago—how my mother used to kiss it. Gwen had drawn a matching one on her own wrist with permanent ink this morning.

“It’s her,” Evelyn sobbed, pulling Gwen into a crushing hug.

“Marcus! It’s her! We found her!”

Marcus Sterling approached, taking off his sunglasses to wipe a fake tear. The family of four embraced. A perfect reunion. The flash of cameras from the local press went off.

Mrs. Halloway stood to the side, looking confused. She narrowed her eyes. She knew that locket belonged to me. She opened her mouth to speak, stepping forward.

“Mrs. Sterling, wait,” Mrs. Halloway began.

“That locket actually belongs to—”

Gwen cut in, her eyes flashing with panic, but her voice remaining smooth.

“Mrs. Halloway always said I should keep it safe! She’s been like a mother to me!”

She hugged the older woman, burying her face in Mrs. Halloway’s shoulder, whispering something I couldn’t hear. Probably a threat. Or a bribe.

Mrs. Halloway looked up at the Sterlings, seeing their desperate, happy faces. She looked at Gwen, who was now beaming. She hesitated.

I leaned my forehead against the cold glass of the window. Don’t do it, Halloway. Let her go.

As if hearing my thoughts, Mrs. Halloway closed her mouth and stepped back. The lie was sealed.

An hour later, Gwen came back to our dorm room to pack. She was practically vibrating with adrenaline.

“Nina!” she squealed, rushing over to my bed.

“You won’t believe it! They think I’m their daughter! They’re taking me to the Hamptons!”

I sat up, feigning grogginess.

“What? But… that’s my family, Gwen. That’s my locket.”

Gwen’s face hardened. The sweet act dropped.

“Listen to me, Nina. You’re sick. You’re ugly right now. You’re going to age out of the system in three months with nothing. I’m doing us a favor.”

She pulled a check out of her pocket.

“My ‘dad’ just gave me five thousand dollars for ‘incidentals’ before we leave. I’m giving it to you.”

She tossed the check onto my lap. Five thousand dollars. The price of my life. The price of her soul.

“Take the money, Nina,” she hissed.

“And keep your mouth shut. If you try to tell them the truth, who are they going to believe? The pretty girl with the locket and the mole, or the jealous, rash-covered orphan?”

I looked at the check. Then I looked at her.

“You’re right,” I said softly.

“I won’t say a word. Enjoy your new life, Gwen. I hope it’s everything you dreamed of.”

She hugged me, but it felt like a snake coiling around prey.

“You’re a good friend, Nina. The best.”

“No,” I whispered as she walked out the door with her suitcase, “I’m not a friend. I’m a survivor.”

I watched from the window as the limo drove away, taking my best friend to a hell disguised as heaven.

Chapter 3: The Silence of the Lambs

The week after Gwen left with the Sterlings, the orphanage was unbearable.

News travels fast in a place where people have nothing but time and gossip. Everyone knew Gwen had been “found.” Everyone knew she was the lost heiress of the Sterling pharmaceutical empire. And everyone looked at me—the girl who had shared a bunk with her, the girl who had nursed her through fevers—with a mixture of pity and scorn.

They whispered that I was pathetic. That I had been “left behind.” That Gwen had outshined me.

“Look at Nina,” one of the younger boys sneered in the cafeteria.

“Still eating slop while Gwen is probably eating caviar on a private jet.”

I just kept my head down and ate my oatmeal. I didn’t correct them. I didn’t tell them that the “caviar” Gwen was eating was likely seasoned with dread. I didn’t tell them that I woke up every morning breathing deep, grateful lungs full of stale orphanage air, simply because I was free.

But not everyone was easily fooled.

Mrs. Halloway, the orphanage director, was a stern woman with eyes like a hawk. She had been going through old files, preparing to close Gwen’s case, when she found it. A photo from my intake paperwork, taken when I was three years old.

In the grainy photo, I was wearing the silver locket.

I was in the library, pretending to read a history textbook, when Mrs. Halloway stormed in. She slammed the photo down on the table in front of me. Her chest was heaving.

“Nina,” she said, her voice low and trembling with rage.

“This is you.”

I looked at the photo. “Yes, ma’am.”

“The locket,” she hissed, tapping the image.

“The one Gwen ‘found’ yesterday. The one the Sterlings recognized. It’s yours.”

She grabbed my hand, her grip surprisingly strong.

“She stole it, didn’t she? While you were having that allergic reaction? She took your birthright. She took your parents.”

Mrs. Halloway’s eyes filled with tears.

“I always knew that girl was manipulative, but this… this is criminal fraud. I’m calling the Sterlings immediately. I’m calling the police.”

She turned to leave, reaching for her phone, but I caught her wrist.

“No,” I said firmly.

Mrs. Halloway stopped, stunned.

“Nina, do you understand what she took from you? Millions of dollars. A family. A future. Why on earth would you protect her?”

I looked Mrs. Halloway in the eye. I couldn’t tell her the truth—that I had lived this life before. That in a previous timeline, I was the one who went with the Sterlings. That I knew exactly what happened behind the high walls of their estate.

“Mrs. Halloway,” I said, my voice calm.

“Gwen wanted a family more than anything. She did a terrible thing to get it. But… maybe she needs them more than I do.”

“You’re too kind for your own good, child!” she cried.

“They will find out eventually. DNA tests exist!”

“Gwen is smart,” I said, shrugging.

“She’ll figure it out. Please, Mrs. Halloway. Let her have this. If you call them now, you’ll humiliate everyone. Just… wait.”

Mrs. Halloway stared at me for a long, uncomfortable minute. She saw resignation in my eyes, but she mistook it for defeat. She didn’t see the calculation.

“Fine,” she finally spat, pulling her hand away.

“But when this house of cards falls, don’t say I didn’t try to save you.”

She stormed out. I sat back down and traced the face of the little girl in the photo.

“You didn’t save me, Mrs. Halloway,” I whispered to the empty room.

“I saved myself.”

Chapter 4: The Golden Cage

I expected silence from Gwen. Usually, when a parasite moves to a new host, it detaches completely from the old one.

But Gwen was insecure. She needed validation. She needed to gloat.

Seven days later, a sleek silver Bentley rolled up to the curb of the orphanage. The other kids pressed their faces against the dirty windows, oohing and aahing.

The driver’s door opened, and a chauffeur stepped out to open the back. Gwen emerged.

She had undergone a transformation. Her frizzy hair was now a sleek, chemically straightened waterfall of platinum blonde. She wore a designer sundress that probably cost more than the orphanage’s annual food budget. On her wrist, a diamond tennis bracelet glittered in the sun.

But I saw the tension in her jaw. I saw the way her eyes darted around nervously, checking for threats.

“Nina!” she called out, waving a manicured hand.

“Get in! I’m taking you to lunch!”

I walked out slowly.

“Hello, Gwen. Or is it… Vanessa? Did they rename you yet?”

“It’s Genevieve now,” she said, flashing a bright, brittle smile.

“Genevieve Sterling. Sounds royal, doesn’t it?”

She ushered me into the car. The leather seats smelled like new money and vanilla. As soon as the door closed, isolating us from the rest of the world, her smile dropped.

“Why haven’t you called me?” she demanded.

“I didn’t have your number,” I said simply.

“And I assumed you were busy being a princess.”

“I am,” she said quickly.

“It’s amazing, Nina. I have a walk-in closet. I have a personal shopper. Caleb… my ‘brother’… he’s so attentive. He always wants to know where I am.”

“That sounds… intense,” I said.

“It’s love, Nina. Something you wouldn’t understand.” She leaned in, her voice dropping.

“But I need you to come over. Just for today. I told them you were my sister in spirit. I want to show you off. I want you to see what you missed.”

It was a power play. She wanted to bring me into her kingdom to show me that she was the queen and I was the peasant. She wanted to feed off my jealousy.

“Sure,” I said.

“I’d love to see your new home.”

The drive to the Sterling estate took forty minutes. We left the city and entered the rolling hills of the private estates. When the iron gates of the Sterling Manor opened, I felt a physical wave of nausea.

It looked exactly as I remembered from my past life. The sprawling manicured lawns. The marble fountains. The windows that looked like unblinking eyes.

We walked inside. The air was chilled to a precise, uncomfortable 68 degrees.

Marcus Sterling was in the foyer, reading a newspaper. He looked up as we entered. His gaze slid over Gwen with a possessive pride, then landed on me.

It was the look you give a stray dog that wandered into your yard.

“Who is this, Genevieve?” he asked, his voice smooth like velvet over gravel.

“This is Nina, Daddy,” Gwen said, clinging to his arm.

“My friend from the… the place.”

“Ah,” Marcus said. He didn’t offer a hand. He didn’t smile.

“The friend. Well, don’t track mud on the carpets.”

He walked away.

Gwen turned to me, her face flushed with embarrassment and anger.

“Don’t mind him. He’s just protective. He loves me so much, he’s afraid of outside influences.”

“Right,” I said. “He seems charming.”

We went up to her room. It was pink. Sickeningly pink. It was filled with teddy bears and dolls that looked too young for a seventeen-year-old girl.

“Isn’t it perfect?” Gwen asked, spinning around.

“Mommy—I mean, Evelyn—decorated it herself. She said she wanted to give me the childhood I missed.”

I looked at the dolls. Their glass eyes seemed to watch us. In my past life, I had thought this room was a sanctuary. Now I recognized it for what it was: a holding cell designed to infantilize its occupant.

“It’s certainly… thorough,” I said.

Gwen sat on the bed, looking at me with a sudden, sharp intensity.

“You’re jealous, aren’t you? You’re standing there hating me because I have the parents and the money and you have nothing.”

I looked at her. Really looked at her. Under the makeup, she looked tired. There were shadows under her eyes. A small bruise was forming on her upper arm, partially hidden by her sleeve.

“No, Gwen,” I said truthfully. “I don’t hate you. And I’m definitely not jealous.”

She laughed, a harsh sound.

“Liar. You’d kill to be me.”

I already did die being you, I thought. And trust me, the view from the coffin isn’t great.

Chapter 5: The Price of Silence

We were interrupted by a commotion downstairs.

Gwen frowned. “Who is that?”

We walked out to the landing just in time to see the front door burst open. The butler was trying to hold someone back, but he was no match for the righteous fury of a woman on a mission.

It was Mrs. Halloway.

She was clutching her oversized handbag, her face red from exertion. She spotted us at the top of the stairs.

“There you are!” she shouted, pointing a finger at Gwen. “You little thief!”

Gwen’s face went pale. She gripped the railing so hard her knuckles turned white.

Evelyn Sterling appeared from the drawing room, holding a glass of wine. “What is the meaning of this? Who let this woman in?”

“I am the director of St. Jude’s,” Mrs. Halloway announced, marching into the center of the foyer. She slapped a handful of photos onto the marble table.

“And I am here to tell you that you are harboring a fraud!”

Evelyn froze. She looked at the photos, then up at Gwen.

“This girl,” Halloway continued, her voice echoing off the high ceilings, “stole the identity of her best friend. That locket belongs to Nina. The mole is fake. She poisoned Nina to take her place!”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Gwen was trembling. This was it. The moment her house of cards collapsed. She looked at me, her eyes pleading, terrified. She knew that if she was thrown out now, she would go to jail.

But more importantly, I looked at Marcus Sterling, who had emerged from his study. He wasn’t looking at the photos. He was looking at Gwen with a cold, calculating expression.

I knew that look. If Gwen was exposed as a fraud now, they wouldn’t just kick her out. They would make her disappear to protect their reputation. They would silence her.

And I needed Gwen alive. I needed her to suffer the full arc of the destiny she had stolen.

I ran down the stairs, laughing.

“Mrs. Halloway!” I cried out, grabbing her arm.

“Oh my god, stop! You’re ruining the rehearsal!”

Everyone froze. Mrs. Halloway looked at me, confused.

“What?”

I turned to Evelyn Sterling, putting on my most apologetic smile.

“I am so sorry, Mrs. Sterling. Mrs. Halloway found the script we were writing. Gwen—I mean, Genevieve—and I were working on a play for the orphanage talent show before she left. It’s about a girl who steals a locket. Mrs. Halloway must have found the prop photos we made and got confused.”

I squeezed Mrs. Halloway’s arm hard—a warning. “Remember, Mrs. Halloway? The drama club project? We Photoshopped those pictures for the backstory.”

Mrs. Halloway stared at me. She saw the intensity in my eyes. She saw the silent plea: Trust me.

“I…” Mrs. Halloway stammered. She looked at the Sterlings, then back at me. “A play?”

“Yes,” I lied smoothly.

“Genevieve is your daughter. The DNA test proved it, right?”

I threw the question at Gwen.

Gwen snapped out of her trance.

“Yes! Yes, of course! We did the DNA test the first day! Mom, tell her!”

Evelyn’s face relaxed. She let out a breathy laugh.

“Oh, goodness. You gave me a fright. Yes, of course. The DNA was a match. We checked it immediately.”

She was lying. They hadn’t checked. They never checked. Because they didn’t care if she was their daughter. They just needed a girl. Any girl.

“I think you should leave,” Marcus said to Mrs. Halloway, his voice icy. “Before I call security.”

I steered Mrs. Halloway to the door. “I’ll handle this,” I whispered. I pushed her out the door and closed it before she could say another word.

When I turned back around, Gwen was slumped against the wall, hyperventilating. The parents had retreated, uninterested in the drama now that it was “resolved.”

“You…” Gwen gasped. “You saved me.”

“I did,” I said. I walked over to her and held out my hand. “And that kind of acting isn’t free.”

“What do you want?” Gwen asked, wiping sweat from her forehead.

“The initial five thousand was for the locket,” I said.

“But keeping Mrs. Halloway quiet? That’s going to cost you. I know Marcus gave you an allowance this morning.”

Gwen didn’t hesitate. She grabbed her purse and pulled out a stack of cash—another five thousand dollars. She shoved it into my hands.

“Take it,” she hissed.

“Just don’t tell them. Please.”

“Pleasure doing business with you, Genevieve,” I said, tucking the cash into my pocket.

As I turned to leave, Gwen grabbed my arm. She looked manic, desperate to reassert her dominance now that the danger had passed.

“You’re lucky I’m generous,” she sneered, her voice trembling.

“Because guess what? Next week, we’re going on a family vacation. A private island. Just me, Mom, Dad, and Caleb. They said it’s a paradise. You’ll be rotting in the orphanage while I’m sipping coconut water on a beach.”

A chill went down my spine.

The Island.

In my past life, that was where the nightmare truly began. That was where the mask fell off completely. That was where the “Game” was played.

I looked at Gwen. I didn’t feel anger. I felt a deep, hollow pity.

“Have fun, Gwen,” I said softly.

“Make sure you wear sunscreen. The sun there… it burns differently.”

I walked out of the mansion, the heavy oak door thudding shut behind me. As I walked down the long driveway, I clutched the money in my pocket.

She was going to the slaughter. And I had just bought my ticket to watch from the safety of the shore.