"Huh?" Katherine was confused by the statement. But the crowd of reporters was so agitated and thirsty for news that they barely cared about her. The world exploded in blinding white flashes.

Reporters swarmed from every shadow, microphones thrusting forward like weapons while security guards fought to hold them back.

"Miss Hart!"

"Miss Hart, is it true you've been pretending to be the Hart family's daughter for over 13 years?" one accused.

"Were you aware Joanna Johnson is Richard Hart's biological daughter?" Another chimed in.

"Did you know you were living someone else's life? Is it true you had planned it out?"

Katherine froze mid-step, heart slamming against her ribs. For one disoriented second, she was sure they had the wrong person.

"I'm sorry..." Her voice came out small, trembling. "I think you've confused me with-" She tried to reason with the crowd.

The crowd only pressed closer.

"Why did you hide Joanna Johnson's identity?"

"Is Mr. Stan ending the engagement because he found out the truth?" Had the reporters already found out about the broken engagement? No, did someone tell them before she even knew?

"Is Joanna carrying Mr. Stan's child?"

"Do you have anything to say to the woman whose family and inheritance you've stolen?"

Each question landed like a knife. Katherine's knees weakened. She had never heard the name Joanna Johnson until tonight, until Soron's phone. Until the way his voice softened for another woman and her baby.

"What are you talking about?" she whispered, tears already stinging her eyes. "I've stolen nothing. This is a mistake-"

A reporter shoved a phone inches from her face. The glowing screen showed the headline in screaming capital letters:

THE REAL HART HEIRESS FOUND

Side-by-side photos stared back at her. One was hers-elegant, smiling at last month's gala. The other was a stranger who shared her eyes, her jawline, her everything. Joanna Johnson. She looked very similar to her.

"No..." The word broke in her throat. The questions turned into a roar.

"Did you always know you weren't Richard Hart's biological daughter? Was it a well-thought-out scheme? Did you do it all alone or were other people involved?"

"When did Mr. Stan discover the truth?"

"Did he leave you because Joanna is pregnant?"

Fraud. Impostor. Stolen life. The words stabbed deeper with every repetition. Katherine's chest heaved, her perfect world crumbling in front of flashing cameras.

"I don't know!" she cried, voice cracking. "I don't know anything!"

Security finally carved a desperate path. Her driver grabbed her arm and practically shoved her into the back seat. "This way, Miss!"

The car peeled away from the curb, reporters still chasing, cameras flashing against the tinted windows like gunfire.

Inside, Katherine shook so hard her teeth chattered. She grabbed her phone with numb fingers and started dialing.

Amelia. No answer.

Richard. Straight to voicemail.

Soron-his number went dead instantly. Blocked.

The Hart residence. Again and again. Nothing.

Dread coiled tighter in her stomach with every failed call.

Finally, on the tenth desperate attempt, the line clicked.

"Mom-" Relief flooded her voice. But Amelia wasn't speaking to her.

"Katherine isn't my daughter?"

The words sliced through the receiver, raw and disbelieving.

Amelia's voice trembled on the other end. "What did you say?"

Silence. "No..."

Then, in a broken whisper that destroyed what was left of Katherine's heart: "Where is my daughter? My real daughter..."

The phone slipped from Katherine's hand and thudded onto the floor.

Everything went quiet. The city lights outside the window blurred into streaks of color. Soron's urgent voice echoed in her mind-"Is the baby okay?"-followed by his cold, final words to her face. The pieces slammed together with brutal clarity.

He had found her. The real heiress. He had chosen Joanna... fallen in love with her... and now she carried his child.

A bitter, broken laugh tore from Katherine's lips even as hot tears poured down her cheeks.

"So that's why..."

She had never been enough. Because none of it had ever truly been hers. Not the family. Not the love. Not even the name she'd worn so proudly. Her hand instinctively reached to the door.

"Miss Katherine!" the driver shouted as the car slowed.

She didn't hear him. She shoved the door open before the vehicle had fully stopped and stumbled into the street, the night air cold against her wet face. Memories flashed-birthday parties, family portraits, Soron's rare smiles-all of them belonging to a ghost named Joanna.

She took another stumbling step. A horn blared, deafening. Headlights blinded her. She barely made it out that she had walked into the fast trafic.

The impact was violent. Metal slammed into her side with crushing force, launching her into the air. She crashed onto the windshield, glass cracking beneath her body like brittle ice. For one suspended heartbeat she felt weightless-then she was tumbling over the roof, hitting the pavement hard.

Pain ripped through every nerve. Warm blood trickled across her forehead and into her eyes.

Footsteps pounded toward her. 'Was this her end? The fake heiress met her miserable end?'

Then a voice-deep, raw, desperate-cut through the chaos.

"Katherine!"

It was a man's voice she had never heard before, yet it carried a sorrow so profound, so full of remorse, that her shattered heart twisted with an ache far deeper than the physical pain. Who was he? Why did his grief feel so familiar?

She wanted to open her eyes. She wanted to reach for that voice.

But the darkness swallowed her whole.

Pain. That was the first thing Katherine expected.

The screech of tires, the violent impact, the feeling of her body slamming against cold asphalt-it all remained so vivid that when consciousness returned, she instinctively braced herself for agony. Her hands flew to her chest, her ribs, her stomach, searching for shattered bones and blood-soaked bandages.

There was nothing. Not a single injury.

Her breathing quickened. She pushed herself upright so abruptly that the blanket slipped onto her lap. Apart from a lingering weakness in her limbs, her body felt... normal.

The room around her was quiet, washed in soft morning light. A small hospital room. White curtains swayed gently beside an open window, carrying the scent of fresh rain instead of disinfectant and blood. The steady beeping of a heart monitor filled the silence.

Before she could make sense of any of it, the door opened. "Oh, you're awake!"

A nurse hurried inside with a relieved smile.

"You gave everyone quite a scare. Your fever finally broke."

Fever? Katherine stared at her blankly.

The nurse walked over to check the monitor before continuing casually, "You've been unconscious for an entire day. Your mother has been calling every few hours asking for updates. I suppose she'll finally be able to sleep tonight."

Katherine frowned. "I'm sorry... what did you just say?"

The nurse looked puzzled. "Your fever."

"No." Katherine shook her head. "Before that."

"You've been unconscious?"

"No." She gripped the blanket tighter. "I was hit by a car."

The cheerful atmosphere inside the room disappeared.

The nurse's smile faltered slightly. "...Excuse me?"

"A car or truck..." Katherine said, her voice becoming more urgent. "I remember the accident. I remember the headlights. I remember..." Her breathing became uneven. "Where's the surgeon? Was anyone else hurt? How long have I been here?"

The nurse didn't answer immediately. Instead, she pressed the call button beside the bed.

Within minutes, a doctor entered the room, followed by another nurse. They examined her thoroughly.

They asked gentle questions. What was her name? Did she know where she was?

What day did she think it was?

Every answer she gave only made their expressions grow more concerned.

"There are no signs of physical trauma," the doctor finally said carefully. "Miss Hart, you were admitted because of a severe viral fever. You've never undergone surgery."

"That's impossible."

"It is what's recorded."

"I was hit by a car."

"There are no police reports."

"My family..."

"Your Friend brought you here. Your fever wouldn't come down." Katherine looked from one face to another, desperately searching for someone who would admit this was a misunderstanding.

No one did. Eventually, the doctor suggested she rest and quietly led the nurses outside, closing the door behind them.

Silence swallowed the room. Katherine sat motionless, her pulse hammering against her ribs.

Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. Her eyes wandered across the bedside table.

A phone rested beside a glass of water. She reached for it almost absentmindedly. The device felt strangely familiar. Too familiar. When the screen lit up, her fingers froze.

It wasn't her current wallpaper. It was the old photograph she had used years ago before changing it after graduation.

Her throat tightened. She tried to unlock the phone; the passcode didn't work, and then she tried her old passcode, and the phone was unlocked.

Every message was old. Every contact list belonged to another version of her life. Conversations she had forgotten existed filled the screen.

People she hadn't spoken to in years were still chatting as though nothing had happened. Her pulse quickened.

"This..." She opened her social media accounts.

Old profile pictures. Old posts. Even unfinished university assignments still waited in her drafts.

Her breathing became shallow. "No..."

The phone suddenly vibrated in her hand.

**Mom Calling. **Her heart nearly stopped. With trembling fingers, she answered.

"Katherine!"

Amelia's bright voice burst through the speaker, so full of energy that Katherine almost dropped the phone.

"You finally answered! Do you know how worried you made everyone? I told you that fever wasn't normal." Katherine couldn't speak. She closed her eyes.

The last time she had heard this voice... It had been broken. Exhausted. Filled with grief and almost hated her. Now Amelia sounded years younger. Happy. Completely unaware that anything terrible had ever happened.

"Katherine?" Amelia laughed softly. "Don't tell me you're still half asleep."

"M... Mom?"

"What is it?" Katherine swallowed hard.

"You..." Her voice cracked.

"You sound..."

"I sound what?"

"...Fine." There was a brief silence before Amelia laughed again.

"What an odd thing to say." She continued talking without noticing anything unusual.

"Anyway, don't stay in the hospital longer than necessary. Your birthday is only a few days away, and you promised you'd come home." Birthday.

The word echoed inside Katherine's mind.

"I've already told Richard to arrange dinner," Amelia continued happily. "He wants you to meet an old friend's son. Apparently they've been trying to introduce you for months."

Katherine wasn't listening anymore. "His name is Soron Stan."

The phone slipped from Katherine's hand. It struck the floor with a sharp crack.

Her trembling fingers reached for the phone before she opened the calendar application. The numbers staring back at her refused to make sense.

June 18th. Four years earlier. Exactly four years before the night she died.

She stared at the date until her vision blurred. She hadn't met Soron. Joanna hadn't appeared. She hadn't yet been declared the Fake Heiress. And she hadn't died yet. None of it had happened yet.

A violent shiver ran through her body as one impossible truth finally settled into her heart. She had returned...

Four years too soon.