My best friend is bound to a trade system—she can force a swap with me three times.

At 13, she takes my heart. At 18, she takes my SAT scores.

And now, for the final swap, she wants my entire identity.

I hide under the covers, unable to hold back a laugh.

My villa is rented, and my family background is totally fake.

Go ahead, bestie. Swap away! This time, I really hope you don't hold back.

I was the most mysterious heiress in our circle. I owned sports cars and mansions but kept my public image deliberately low-key, which only fueled the rumors.

Some said I was the love child of a famous actress and a foreign tycoon. Others swore I was a fallen aristocrat, tangled in some family drama that forced me to hide my past.

I never bothered to set the record straight. I just laughed off the rumors, which only made them more curious.

"Charlene's boyfriend is here for her again. Why do rich women always go for those boytoys?"

"Please. She could burn cash for fun and still have leftovers. Jacob's been throwing himself at her for years, and she won't even glance his way."

I ignored the murmurs and got into my boyfriend Zach York's car.

"Want to go get something to eat?" he asked.

"No, I'm going to the salon."

I studied my reflection in the mirror. My skin had to be poreless and dewy, and my hair had to have the perfect amount of bounce and shine.

Spending big on designer labels was all about showing off, but true luxury? That was in the details, like perfect hair and skin.

…

"Ms. Stoker, you made it! Come sit over here."

Zach stayed close as I stepped into the club's private room, perfectly poised. The crowd on the couches shuffled instantly to open a spot for me.

"Lene, I can't believe you showed up. Never pegged you for this kind of thing."

Jacob Quaid, the Quaid family heir, sat in the center. He'd been pouring on the charm with me lately, and when I took the place beside him, I caught the faintest flush at his ears.

"You planned this gathering for me. There's no way I wouldn't show up.”

I grinned at Jacob, and the others immediately started hyping us up, saying we were perfect together.

The whole time, Zach was sulking in the corner, his expression thunderous while everyone acted like he wasn't even there.

My friends handed me gifts one after another. They weren't strapped for cash, but they were dying to see what was inside, so they kept pushing me to open the presents right then and there.

I tore through a few boxes before saying I was too worn out and flagged down one of the waitresses to take care of the rest.

"Sorry, I had to go grab some scissors..."

I knew that voice instantly. I looked up fast and locked eyes with Shirley Doyle, standing in the doorway in a waitress uniform.

"Charlene? What are you doing here?"

I shoved the leftover gifts at Jacob beside me, muttered some excuse, and yanked Shirley out of the private room.

"Charlene… How do you have this much money now, Lene? Were those all your friends back there? How'd you even know them?"

She kept going, not giving me a second to breathe. "We've been tight since we were kids. You owe me the full story. Did you find your real parents?"

I stopped short and smirked. "Not yet. But I'm getting close."

Shirley and I were raised in the same orphanage since we were kids. I knew she was tied to some kind of trade system. I could hear her talking to it.

The cruel part? I was the only one she could use for these swaps. The only small mercy was that the system capped her at three.

The first one happened when we were 13. Shirley was born with a heart defect, so she swapped hers for mine.

She left the hospital completely cured. Me? I collapsed from acute heart failure and spent a week in intensive care. Even now, I haven't fully bounced back.

The second time came at 18. After three years of ditching class, chain-smoking with delinquents, and hopping between reckless flings, Shirley didn't hesitate to swap her SAT scores for mine the second they were out.

She landed first in the city and got into a top-tier university. I couldn't even scrape into community college, so I ended up in a factory job.

Now, only one swap remained.

Shirley's eyes brightened like she'd just seen a lifeline. She scanned my outfit with an eager, almost greedy look before asking, as if it were nothing, "Who are those people inside?"

"They're my friends. Here for my birthday," I said.

I gave her a quick once-over. She was dressed in the club's waitress uniform, standing there with a slight hint of unease.

"Do you work here?" I blinked in disbelief. "You went to Alveron University, didn't you? Why are you working here?"

"I-It's just a part-time thing. For fun," Shirley stammered, her face flickering with embarrassment. "My friend owns the place, so I'm just helping out."

"Oh… Gwen? I know her too." I glanced at Shirley with a smile. "Since we're all friends here, we should hang out sometime."

Shirley couldn't meet my eyes, too guilty to even answer. She'd made up everything she told me about that part-time job for a friend.

Back then, she'd taken my place at Alveron University. Even though it was the top school in the country, she wasted her college years bouncing between boyfriends and parties instead of studying.

Shirley failed nearly every core class, and there was no way to fix that. She even cheated more than once. In the end, Alveron University had no choice but to expel her.

"Lene, come back in. Everyone's waiting." Zach had come out to look for me after I'd been gone too long. The instant he realized I was talking to Shirley, his expression turned tense. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

"Nothing's wrong. This is my friend, Shirley Doyle," I said.

Then I gave Shirley a quick smile before adding, "And this is Zach York, my boyfriend."

Zach and Shirley shared a look, both catching the shock and wariness in each other's eyes.

But Zach snapped back instantly, playing it like he had no idea who she was, his tone polite. "Hi, I'm Zach."

Shirley, though, wasn't half as composed. She gripped the hem of her shirt as she managed a strained smile. "I-I should get back to work. I need to go."

"Sure, see you later," I said, grinning as I watched her all but run off. Then I called out, "My number's still the same. Call me whenever."

"Was that waitress a friend of yours?" Zach kept close as we walked, his voice strained. "I don't remember you talking about her before."

"What's the big deal?" I shot Zach a half-smile and said breezily, "It's not like you know every single one of my friends."

He shifted uncomfortably and said, a little awkwardly, "I was just curious. I mean, she's just a waitress—"

I cut him off. "So? She graduated from Alveron University."

I was heading back to the private room when Zach suddenly said, "Babe, I'm not feeling well. Maybe I should go home."

"What's bothering you?" I arched an eyebrow. "You're actually bailing on my birthday?"

I knew why Zach didn't want to return to the private room. Someone had already texted me about it.

He and Jacob had gotten me bracelets in the same style for my birthday. But as luck would have it, Jacob's was real, and Zach's was a cheap knockoff.

On their own, they looked almost the same. But put them side by side, and the difference was glaring. One was a high-end piece covered in diamonds, the other a bare-bones replica.

"It's fine. Your health comes first. Go ahead," I said with a faint smile, waving him off.

Zach breathed out in obvious relief. I watched him walk away before turning and heading back to the private room at a leisurely pace.

"Lene, come sit with me." Jacob tugged me down next to him and lowered his voice. "That boyfriend of yours is total trash—ugly, stingy, and honestly? Dating him is just staining your reputation."

"He's Shirley's ex. Trust me, if he weren't, I wouldn't give him the time of day," I murmured, leaning in to settle him. "Just stick it out for a few days. Once everything's handled, we won't have to hide anymore."

Jacob gave a resigned nod. The thing was, we'd been together for three years, but thanks to Shirley's bizarre trade system, we had to stay under the radar.

So far, I'd kept up the high-society act without getting caught. It wasn't just my acting skills—Jacob had been picking up the tab most of the time.

Jacob and I were whispering back and forth when Shirley's Instagram follow request popped up.

The message read, "Lene, it's Shirley."

I followed her without really thinking, but she never messaged me again. I had a pretty good idea what she was up to.

Before long, a notification popped up on my screen. She'd liked my latest post—the one with photos of all the extravagant gifts my friends had showered me with, each stamped with those iconic luxury logos.

In the pictures, I was sitting in the middle of all those stacked-up gifts, smiling like I'd just won the lottery.

It looked like I was flaunting my wealth, and honestly, I was. This was the persona I'd carefully crafted, and I knew Shirley would eat it up.

"Lene, I'm so sorry. I forgot today was your birthday, and I didn't even get you a gift."

I skimmed Shirley's text and replied, "Don't sweat it. Just seeing each other again is the best gift."

Shirley went quiet for a moment. Then out of nowhere, she asked, "Do you like cake? I'm actually a decent baker. I could whip one up now and bring it over."

"Nah, it's too late for that," I texted. After a quick pause, I sent her my address. "But I'm having a thank-you party at my place tomorrow with a ton of friends. You should come by."