My father sighed and turned to the officer.

“Can you give us a few minutes? Just to say goodbye?”

The officer looked at me, then back at him, and finally nodded.

“You’ve got ten. Make it quick.”

He led us to a small, plain reception room.

I sat down on the cold chair, my voice barely audible.

“What else is there to say? Haven’t you said enough already?”

Austin was on the phone, speaking quietly but urgently.

“Don’t worry. We’re already here. She’s waiting outside.”

I frowned. “Who’s waiting?”

The door creaked open.

Lucia walked in, her steps light, her smile dazzling.

“Sister,” she said sweetly, “thank you for giving me the chance to go to college.”

My father straightened up, voice solemn.

“Lucia came all this way to thank you in person.”

I nodded numbly.

Lucia turned to Austin, pouting.

“You made me get a tattoo on my fingertip just to blur my prints. Do you know how much that hurt?”

I glanced down at my own hands—bandaged, blistered, raw from the sulfuric acid. I said nothing. I just smiled, faintly and bitterly.

Then Lucia stretched her arms toward Austin.

“I need a hug. I want comfort.”

Without hesitation, she stepped into his embrace.

Austin looked over at me, eyes flickering with guilt he didn’t bother to hide well.

“Alice… you know Lucia and I have to keep up appearances now. People know I’ve always been with you. If I act distant, they’ll get suspicious.”

He tightened his hold on Lucia.

“We’ll break up eventually. Once everything settles down.”

I stared at them in silence, then stood up.

“You’re both excellent actors,” I said quietly.

I walked to the door myself. The officers were waiting. I didn’t look back.

That night, I curled up on the thin prison mattress, my body aching, my fingers throbbing.

But what hurt more than the burns was my grandmother’s sobbing, echoing in my mind.

And my mother’s final words.

She had told me to fight for my life. That no matter what happened, I must live with dignity, strive for a future. That I must never give up.

So I didn’t.

I worked harder than anyone. I studied through the pain, the hunger, the silence. I wanted to make her proud in heaven. I wanted to become someone whose name meant something.

But now, it was all gone.

All those years of effort, all my dreams, all my mother’s hopes—destroyed in a single decision.

My father’s coldness. Austin’s betrayal. They crushed me like stones pressing into my chest.

I wept.

But no one cared. No one heard me.

“Mom,” I whispered into the darkness, “I’m sorry… I couldn’t protect what you left behind.”

The next morning, we were called out to the common area. It was time to watch the news. Everyone sat on small stools, faces dull, eyes fixed on the TV.

And then—I saw her.

Lucia.

She wore a crisp uniform blouse and a red ribbon pinned proudly to her chest. The camera zoomed in on her as she smiled graciously under the spotlight.

“I owe this achievement to my mother’s memory,” she told the reporter. “She was a teacher. She died protecting her students from a violent man. Her courage inspires me every day.”

She was telling my story. My mother’s story.

That was the reason I studied every night until dawn. That was why I never gave up.

My breath caught. I lowered my head, but the tears still fell.

The screen cut to my father.

“Mr. Brock,” the reporter asked, “we heard you have a niece who lost her parents and was raised by you. Recently, she was arrested for theft. Do you have any comment?”

My father’s face turned hard.

“She’s a disgrace to our family. I don’t want to talk about her. I just hope her bad reputation doesn’t interfere with my daughter’s civil service exam.”

The final shot zoomed in on Austin and Lucia.

“Rumor has it you were an academic couple. Now that you're entering college together, will your relationship be affected?”

Austin smiled at the camera. Lucia turned to him with a giggle.

And then, in front of the nation, they kissed.

Applause, whistles, and warm congratulations filled the air.

I stood still, staring at the screen, tears silently rolling down my face. I didn’t even notice when they had started to fall.

The trial came quickly.

I didn’t defend myself. I admitted to everything without protest.

The judge announced the verdict: ten years in prison.

The charge? Theft involving a large sum of money and organized crime.

I saw it clearly—my father, Austin, and Lucia sitting in the gallery, visibly relieved. As if a heavy burden had finally been lifted from their shoulders.

After the sentencing, I was led away to begin my prison term.

Just before I got on the transport van, a reporter shoved a microphone into my face.

“Your cousin is the top scorer in the national college entrance exam, and yet here you are—about to serve a decade in prison. Do you have anything to say to the public?”

I looked at the camera and smiled faintly.

“Prison can be educational too. Who’s to say it’s worse than college?”

The reporter laughed, clearly mocking me.

The bystanders followed suit.

“She’s just bitter,” someone muttered.

“No wonder she ended up in jail—look at that twisted logic.”

“Classic case of poor upbringing. No manners, no morals.”

Their laughter felt like knives.

And then, I heard a voice I knew too well—trembling, desperate, and filled with grief.

“You’ve made a mistake! Please, you’ve made a terrible mistake!”

I turned toward the sound.

Grandma.

She stumbled toward me, drenched in sweat, crying as she pushed through the crowd.

“She’s not Lucia,” she shouted to anyone who would listen. “She’s my granddaughter, Alice! She was framed! She’s the real top scorer!”

She gripped my arm with all the strength she had left and almost dropped to her knees.

“Alice, please—don’t humiliate yourself like this. Tell them the truth. Don’t destroy yourself for these people.”

I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek and forced myself to stay in character. I mimicked the tone of a street punk.

“Lady, I don’t know who you are. You’ve got the wrong person.”

Her face crumpled, and she sobbed even harder.

Suddenly, she seemed to realize something and grabbed me again.

“Is someone threatening you? Did your father hit you? Tell me now—look, the police are here. They’ll protect you!”

I shook my head, deadpan.

“You really got the wrong person. Your granddaughter’s over there.”

Just then, Austin and my father rushed over.

Without hesitation, they each grabbed one of Grandma’s arms and began dragging her away.

“She has Alzheimer’s,” Austin explained to the cameras with a forced laugh. “She doesn’t know what she’s saying. Sorry, sorry, excuse us.”

They shoved her into the back of a car and drove off before anyone could question it.

I wiped away my tears.

Then I lowered my head, let the officers lock the handcuffs around my wrists, and stepped into the van.

After I entered prison, my father never visited me again. Not once.

Austin disappeared without a trace.

The only one who tried to see me was my grandmother. But I refused.

She didn’t need to see me like this.

She was old. Her health was poor. Seeing me would only break her further.

Better for her to rest, to wait.

When I got out—when all of this was over—I would take care of her properly.

One morning, about a month later, a guard came to my cell.

“Visitor for you,” she said.

I panicked.

“Is it an old woman?” I asked. “Gray hair? A cane?”

The guard shook her head. “No. Not her.”

Only then did I follow her to the visitation room.

When I saw who it was, I froze.

Lucia.

She sat there in designer clothes, radiant and smug.

“What’s the point of studying so hard?” she said with a sneer. “Doesn’t seem to have helped you much.”

I stayed silent.

She leaned closer to the glass. Her voice dropped to a whisper.

“Maybe you still don’t know. You and I aren’t just cousins.”

“We’re sisters. Half-sisters.”

I blinked.

She smiled wider.

“Your dad is my dad. That whole cousin story? Just something they told people to make it easier to control you.”

“I guessed it a long time ago,” I said calmly.

Lucia froze for a moment.

My composure clearly unsettled her. Her triumphant expression faltered, then twisted with irritation.

She forced a smile. “Oh? Then I guess this won’t shock you either.”

She leaned forward, voice like poison.

“Austin and I have been together for a long time. Your precious boyfriend? He told me—in bed—that he loves me to death. Says I’m fun, wild, unforgettable.”

“As for you? You wouldn’t even let him hold your hand. Always cold. Always boring. A lifeless block of wood.”

She sneered. “All you know is how to study. What good is that? If he didn’t need you to switch identities with me, he would’ve dumped you ages ago.”

I still said nothing.

But under the table, my hand trembled. My nails had already dug into my palm so deep, they drew blood.

Lucia stood up and stretched leisurely. “Keep pretending to be calm. It won’t last.”

She flashed a wicked smile. “Actually, I came today with a gift.”

My eyes narrowed slightly.

“I used to hang around with some pretty nasty people. Offended a few along the way. Wouldn’t you know it? Some of them got arrested too. And when they found out that ‘Lucia’ was locked up here, they pulled some strings.”

Her grin widened.

“They arranged to be transferred into your cell.”

My heart stopped.

I wasn’t afraid of bland food, early mornings, or routine. I had lived a strict life for years. What I feared… was violence.

I had been beaten before for no reason. Hurt by people I didn’t provoke. Humiliated without cause.

And now, another group was coming—to take their revenge.

My face must have paled, because Lucia's satisfaction deepened.

She smirked. “I hope you survive until your sentence ends.”

Then she flipped her hair. “Anyway, I need to get going. There’s a party tonight.”

“Some rich family wants to set me up with their son. They say I’m beautiful, smart, and a top scholar—what can I say?”

She gave me one last pitying glance.

“Oh, Alice… life in prison must be so peaceful. I’m out there dealing with all this attention.”

With that, she turned and strutted out.

I returned to my cell with a heavy heart.

And sure enough, the next few days were filled with “special attention.” Threats. Traps. Fights I never started.

But I endured it.

Because I knew—this time—I wouldn’t stay in prison long.

Exactly one week later, the guards called me for another visit.

When I stepped into the reception room, my father and Austin were already there, faces pale and urgent.

They grabbed my arms the moment I entered.

“Quick!” my father hissed. “You have to switch identities with Lucia right now!”

“I’ve contacted a reporter—we’ll issue a statement, and we’ll all testify for you. You’re Alice! You’re the real top scorer in the college entrance exam!”

“Let Lucia take your place in prison. You need to get out, fast!”

I looked at them—and laughed.

Laughed until my eyes stung.

“That’s strange,” I said slowly. “I’m the criminal Lucia, remember? Why would the excellent student Alice—top scorer, model daughter—go to jail for me?”