During rehearsal for the school arts gala, I got word from the school that I had been chosen to give the commencement speech as the outstanding graduate representative. Gideon immediately grabbed my hand and dragged me toward the grove behind campus to celebrate.

The moment I stepped into the trees, strange floating messages appeared in front of my eyes.

"Don't go in there. Gideon prepared sulfuric acid for you. He's planning to destroy your face so you'll lose your chance to speak on stage."

"Three years ago, Gideon helped his childhood friend Lucy steal your identity and take your place as the long-lost daughter of the York family. Now he wants to ruin your face so you'll never have the chance to return to your real family."

"After the attack, you'll endure countless reconstructive surgeries, only to be killed when the fake heiress switches your medication."

"Meanwhile, Gideon marries the impostor, and together they seize the entire York family's fortune. Your parents end up homeless."

"Go to the main stage right now. Let Mrs. York see you. This is your only chance to reclaim your identity."

…

Not far ahead, Gideon urged me to hurry.

I looked at the messages hovering in front of me and stopped in my tracks, suddenly unsure of what to do.

The Trap in the Woods

"Wendy, hurry up. I've got a surprise for you." Gideon Cross stood at the edge of the grove, waving me over.

The golden light of the setting sun fell across his face. His smile was warm and familiar, reminding me of the more than two thousand days we had spent side by side.

I had barely taken a step when several glowing lines of text suddenly flashed across my vision.

"Don't go. There's a sulfuric acid trap in the grove."

My eyes widened. It felt like every drop of blood in my body turned to ice.

"He wants to destroy your face. Once you lose your chance to go onstage and give your speech, the York family will never recognize you."

The glowing messages flickered, stabbing at my eyes while the words tore through my chest.

My legs felt like lead. I froze in place, cold sweat beading across my forehead.

"What's wrong?" Gideon frowned slightly and strode back toward me. "Weren't we supposed to celebrate you being chosen as the outstanding graduate representative?"

He reached for me, but I instinctively recoiled.

"The event is being hosted by the York Group, right?" I asked, fighting to keep my voice steady.

Gideon's expression shifted almost imperceptibly. His throat bobbed.

"Yeah. Why are you asking that all of a sudden?" His smile tightened.

"Just curious. Will Mr. and Mrs. York be there?"

"They will, but what does that have to do with us?" His tone sharpened with sudden urgency. "Come on. It's getting dark."

The corner of his right eye twitched. His left hand was hidden behind his back, clenched into a fist.

I took a breath. "Sorry. I just got a text. My professor wants revisions on my speech, and I need to head back right now."

"No." He grabbed my wrist with startling force. "Ten minutes. That's all. It'll be quick."

His grip hurt. Panic rose in my chest, but I quickly pulled out my phone and pretended to check a message.

"Look. News about the York Group. Maybe it'll help with my speech." I tapped open an article I had saved.

The blood drained from my face.

I stared at a photo from a news story published three months earlier.

Lucy, an underclassman from my department, stood beside Claire with a bright smile. Her eyes, her high nose, the shape of her lips—she looked uncannily like me.

But what nearly stole my breath was the bracelet wrapped around Lucy's wrist. A star charm bracelet. The very keepsake I had treasured before I turned five.

The Truth Behind the Lies

"Why is Lucy wearing my bracelet?" I shoved my phone in Gideon's face, my voice trembling.

'Wendy, wake up. There's no point asking him. He's obviously going to lie.'

Gideon's expression changed for a split second before he forced himself to stay calm. "What bracelet? Lucy comes from money. She can wear whatever bracelet she wants."

'Wendy, stay calm. Don't corner him too hard. Protect yourself.'

He grabbed my shoulders, unable to meet my eyes. "You've got it wrong. It has to be a coincidence."

I shook his hands off hard.

Memories crashed over me like a tidal wave.

…

Fifteen years ago, in the orphanage, a skinny little boy had secretly pressed a piece of candy into my hand.

"Don't cry. I'll help you find your mom and dad."

He saved up six months of allowance to buy me medicine. When I had a fever, he stayed by my bedside all night without sleeping.

On my sixteenth birthday, he made me a scrapbook by hand. Page after page, it documented every important moment we had shared.

He had ruffled my hair and said, "When we turn 25, I'm going to marry you. You'll never have to be lonely again."

…

Then, reality came crashing back. My eyes filled with tears.

"Gideon… did you ever really love me?" I choked out, my heart twisting in agony.

He grabbed my hand in panic. "Of course I did. I still love you."

"This scumbag is still lying." The realization hit me like a lightning strike. "Think about that so-called accident three years ago."

…

Three years ago, I had been in a minor fender bender. Barely a scratch. But Gideon insisted I stay in the hospital for observation for two full weeks.

Not long after I was discharged, Lucy transferred into the School of Arts. And the bracelet on my wrist had vanished.

So, every coincidence had been part of a carefully planned trap.

"I need to go. Rehearsal is about to start." I wiped my tears and forced my voice steady.

"I'll come with you." He immediately fell into step beside me, clamping his hand around my wrist.

"Let go. I need to use the restroom first."

I yanked free with so much force that even I startled myself.

Gideon froze, clearly not expecting me to resist him like that.

Before he could react, I ran.

My heart slammed wildly against my ribs, like it might burst right out of my chest.

I heard his hurried footsteps behind me and ran even faster, diving into the crowd.

After turning a corner, I pressed myself against a wall, gasping for breath as I listened to Gideon's footsteps gradually fade.

The school auditorium blazed with light, glittering like fallen stars.

Keeping my head down, I slipped through the back entrance under cover of the crowd.

…

Onstage, Lucy was performing Chopin's Nocturne at the piano.

"She's amazing," a girl beside me whispered.

"Of course she is," a boy nearby replied. "I heard the York family hired internationally renowned instructors just for her. Supposedly, she's performing in Vienara next month."

The Life They Stole

The music cut off, and thunderous applause erupted throughout the auditorium.

Lucy rose from the piano bench and gave a graceful bow. A polished smile rested on her face, along with the kind of confidence and poise I had never possessed.

"Thank you, Mrs. York, for recognizing my musical talent. Unlike certain art students who spend all day painting garbage no one wants to look at."

Laughter burst through the hall, wave after wave, each one striking me like a blade to the heart.

Heads turned from the stage toward me.

Some students whispered behind their hands. Others pointed openly. A few laughed without even trying to hide it.

The glowing messages flashed wildly across my vision.

"That scheming witch is disgusting. She's the one who rigged things so Wendy's artwork wouldn't be selected."

"Look at that smug smile. She's humiliating Wendy on purpose."

"That cheating jerk and that fake innocent snake teaming up against Wendy is revolting."

Lucy stood beneath the stage lights, wrapped in a golden glow like royalty. And I stood in the shadows, practically invisible.

Every smile, every elegant movement radiated superiority. Even the glances she flicked in my direction, pretending not to notice me, were nothing more than calculated displays of triumph.

Memories came crashing back.

…

The night before the national painting competition, my submission vanished.

I tore apart the studio looking for it, checking every corner, even dumping out the trash. It had simply disappeared.

Gideon stayed with me the whole night, helping me search and comforting me. "It's okay. You're still young. There'll be other chances."

The next day, the judges announced the submission deadline had been extended. For Lucy alone. Because the "gifted young artist" had supposedly fallen ill and needed extra time to complete her piece.

Then, there was the school anniversary performance.

The opening act I had spent two months preparing was canceled just one hour before the show for "not fitting the theme."

From backstage, I watched Lucy walk out wearing the costume I had designed, performing the choreography I had created, soaking in roaring applause.

That night, I was so sick I could not stop throwing up.

Gideon handed me a cup of water, his voice gentle. "Don't overthink it. Your health matters most."

Then came internship assignments.

My name sat alone at the very bottom of the list—elementary school art teacher in a remote mountain area.

Everyone else got placements at city galleries and museums.

Lucy went straight into the York Group's art center.

Gideon had called it a rare opportunity to gain grassroots experience. He even drove me to the station himself.

As he handed me a thermos, he smiled. "When you get back, I'll take you out to your favorite restaurant."

…

Now, looking back, I could see the calculations hidden behind every smile.

Every time I came close to success, every time I had even the slightest chance of crossing paths with the York family, Gideon and Lucy arranged some carefully timed "accident."

Together, they pushed me toward the edge of a cliff, then reached out with helping hands so I would fall into their trap of gratitude.

I thought I was just unlucky. I thought life was simply unfair.

But today, the truth had surfaced. Visible traps. Carefully woven lies.

For three years, every move they made had one purpose—keeping me trapped in the identity of an orphan who could never find her parents.

So that Lucy could steal my life.

So that she could become the treasured daughter of the York family.

"What are you doing here?" Gideon suddenly appeared behind me and seized my arm. There was a coldness in his eyes I had never seen before. His fingers dug painfully into my flesh. "Be a good girl. This is not where you belong."

I clenched my teeth against the pain. Five pale finger marks were already forming on my skin.

His grip tightened, as if he wanted to crush the bone beneath his fingers.

The boy who used to wipe away my tears at the orphanage now looked at me like I was nothing more than an inconvenience.

"Get to Mrs. York. She's your biological mother. You'll die on the operating table and lose your chance forever," came the words.

The glowing words jolted through my nerves like electric shocks.

In the front row, Claire's elegant figure was beginning to turn away.

Maybe this was my only chance.

For 20 years, I had called for my mother in countless dreams. Now, she was only steps away.

A surge of courage rushed through me.

I stomped hard on Gideon's foot. He cried out and let go. I seized the opening and ran straight for the center of the stage.

"Mrs. York!" I screamed until my throat felt raw. "Mr. York!"

The entire auditorium erupted. Every gaze locked onto me.