Return Of The Sports Tycoon's Ultimate Heir

Madisyn's POV:

I sat on the edge of the living room sofa, keeping my hands folded in my lap. Twenty-two years in this house, yet today, I was the outsider.

It was Jenna's first day in the Chapman house. The Chapmans had suddenly brought her home, claiming she was their biological daughter. From the moment she stepped through the door, everything in the household began to revolve around her.

Phyllis, the woman who had raised me as her own, leaned forward. She held a plate of sliced fruit, offering a piece to Jenna. Her voice carried a soft, careful pitch I had never heard her use with me.

"Jenna, baby, try this. This is all for you."

Jenna glanced my way, the corners of her lips turning up for a fraction of a second, before she looked back at Phyllis. She pitched her voice high and soft. "Thank you, Mom. Having a mother like you makes all the suffering I went through worthwhile."

Phyllis blinked rapidly, wiping a tear from her cheek. She reached out to stroke Jenna's hair, her back turned completely toward me.

Jeffry, my adoptive father and a minority shareholder in an AHL development team, sat beside them. He had unbuttoned his suit jacket, dropping his usual stern boardroom demeanor. He leaned in close to Jenna, his expression a mix of eager relief and deep-seated guilt for the years lost.

"Yes, from now on, our family will give you the best of everything."

I pressed my fingers into the fabric of my jeans. The living room, with its familiar oak furniture and framed family photos, suddenly felt like a place I had walked into by mistake.

Jenna's gaze drifted past Phyllis, landing on the mantelpiece where my figure skating championship trophies were lined up. She let out a small, deliberate sigh.

"My sister is so talented, unlike me, who had to struggle for a living since I was little."

Phyllis stopped stroking Jenna's hair. She turned her head and shot me a sharp, disapproving look, her lips pressing into a thin line.

I pushed myself up from the sofa. I needed a glass of water from the kitchen, just to step out of the room for a minute.

As I passed the staircase, Jenna suddenly called out behind me. She had been pretending to head upstairs to her room, but her voice stopped me cold.

"Sister, is there no room for me in this house anymore?"

The question came out of nowhere. I frowned, already tired of her games, and turned around impatiently.

Before I could say a word, Jenna let out a sharp cry. Her body tipped backward, and she tumbled down the carpeted steps.

I watched her descend. She kept her arms tucked in, her shoulders taking the brunt of the soft impacts.

I stood there in shock, my mind a blank.

Jenna lay at the foot of the stairs, curled up and moaning in pain.

Phyllis and Jeffry rushed over at the sound. Seeing the scene, Phyllis let out a shrill scream.

"Oh my God! Jenna! My daughter!"

She rushed over and knelt beside Jenna.

Jeffry’s face flushed dark red. He looked past Jenna, fixing his eyes directly on me with a hard, unblinking stare.

Jenna raised a trembling hand, pointing at me, tears streaming down her face.

"It was... it was my sister... she pushed me..."

"Madisyn!" Phyllis's voice was filled with incredulous anger and hatred. "How could you do this! She's your sister!"

I opened my mouth, wanting to explain that I hadn't, that I hadn't even touched her.

But my voice was drowned out by Jenna's more painful cries and Phyllis's scolding.

"I... I just wanted to get closer to my sister," Jenna sobbed. "She said... she said this house couldn't accommodate two daughters..."

It was a blatant lie. She was putting her own words into my mouth.

Jeffry took the stairs two at a time, stopping on the step just below mine. He pointed down the hallway.

"Go to your room."

It wasn't a question. It was a command. No room for argument, no chance for me to defend myself.

I looked down at the three of them. Phyllis had her arms wrapped tightly around Jenna, while Jeffry stood as a barrier between us. They formed a tight, closed unit on the floor.

I didn't argue. I just watched Jenna. Lying in Phyllis's arms, she was secretly watching me from the corner of her eye, her gaze full of triumph.

I noticed a detail. She kept rubbing her right ankle, her face twisted in agony.

I replayed the fall in my mind. I remembered the exact moment she lost her balance. Her left foot had caught the edge of the step first. If she had really hurt herself in the fall, it should have been her left ankle.

But she kept clutching her right one.

My heartbeat slowed, heavy and steady against my ribs, as the pieces began to fall into place.

She hadn't even bothered to get the details right.

She had orchestrated the entire fall.

I didn't cry. I didn't make a scene. I simply turned and went upstairs.

After closing my bedroom door, I leaned against it, listening to the chaos below and Jenna's intermittent sobs.

I wouldn't beg them to trust me.

I would make them see with their own eyes exactly what kind of person they had brought into this house.