My fiancé's older brother was into girls with tiny waists. He wanted to marry my foster sister—the one with the twenty-one-inch waist.

Their wedding? Same day Eric and I were supposed to get hitched.

When he found out, Eric begged me to swap with Briana.

"Lena, it's always been Briana. If your family hadn't found you, she wouldn't have had to play fake heiress, and I wouldn't be stuck with you."

I stayed quiet. He kept digging.

"Chill. My brother won't even touch you. Once the dust settles, I'll bring you back—as my side piece."

Staring at that fake, slimy smile, I felt a little out of it.

Last time, I told him no—and still ended up married to him, beaten until I died.

Then I woke up. Same day. Same plea from Eric.

This time, I handed them exactly what they wanted. "Fine. I'll marry him."

Eric lit up like he'd won.

Didn't last long. Next thing I knew, he was out in the rain, on his knees, clutching his head, sobbing, begging me to leave his brother and come back.

Borevia City, Carmoria.

"You have to be there."

Eric Santoro popped open a velvet case, rocking that same smug face he wore when he asked me to switch grooms.

"This is your parents' heirloom," he said—cool, commanding. "You want it? Come to Briana's party tonight."

It was the last thing my real parents gave me before they died. Eric had tricked me into handing it over. I was taking it back.

I dropped my gaze, hiding the ice in my eyes. "Fine. I'll go."

A smug smile flickered across Eric's face as he grabbed his coat and walked out.

The Santoro engagement was mine from day one. I'd been stolen at birth, and in their grief, my real parents adopted Briana.

After my adoptive parents died, I bounced around the orphanage system.

At fifteen, the Leone family finally tracked me down. Everyone said Eric was my future.

And I mistook him for someone from my past.

He backed me up when people called me a country bumpkin. Showed up with birthday surprises. Stuck close after the crash that took my real parents.

After that, I followed him like he was everything.

But somewhere along the way, his attention started drifting—to Briana.

We were born on the same day, but he only ever remembered hers.

I should've seen it coming. Even back then.

***

The party was at the priciest country club in the city.

Eric led Briana right into the spotlight, grinning like he'd hit the jackpot, wine glass in hand.

Then a server handed him a deep brown leather box. He popped it open—limited-edition watch, ladies' style.

"Happy birthday, Briana."

He strapped it on her wrist.

"Whoa! Wasn't that at the Geneva Watch Fair last year? I heard there's only five of those in the world!" someone gasped.

"Eric spoils Briana so much! Lena seriously needs to quit clinging to an engagement that was clearly meant for Briana."

I let out a bitter laugh under my breath. That watch? It was supposed to be my birthday gift.

Now it was shining on Briana's wrist.

I pushed the door open. The room fell silent.

Every head turned—judging, smirking, eating it up.

"Well, well," someone drawled. "Isn't that the Leone family's REAL heiress? What's this—staking her claim?"

"Please," another scoffed. "She's just here to embarrass herself. Eric's in love with Briana. He wants HER."

Briana shot me a smug smile. She flicked her wrist, letting the watch catch the light.

"Lena, look!" Briana cooed, dragging out the word like she was on stage. "Isn't the birthday gift Eric gave me beautiful? It's a global LIMITED edition."

The crowd jumped in right on cue.

"So pretty!"

"Eric really knows how to treat her!"

I dropped my gaze, fingers curling into fists.

Eric's smile twitched. He gave Briana's wrist a light tug. "That's enough. Cut it out."

She pouted but backed off. Eventually.

Eric gave me a cold glance. "I brought the bracelet. Just play nice, make Briana happy, and it's yours later."

"Play nice?" I said. "You mean go along with your little humiliation game?"

"Don't be ungrateful," he warned, voice dropping. "I still have the bracelet."

Briana jumped in, all fake-sweet. "Lena, don't be mad. Everyone's just teasing."

Right on cue—

"Yeah, Lena, don't be so sensitive."

"Guess some bumpkins just don't belong in high society."

Every word sliced like a knife.

My hand clenched at my side, palm slick with sweat.

I told myself to suck it up.

That bracelet—my family's heirloom—was still in Eric's hands. I couldn't risk losing it.

Eric looked smug, like my silence was proof I'd stay in line.

"Come on, Lena," he said, handing me a glass. "Give Briana a toast. Wish her a happy birthday."

The crowd started chanting, "Drink! Drink! Drink!"

I took the glass, eyeing the murky mix.

It was clearly a mashup of whatever they had on hand.

But for the bracelet, I swallowed my pride.

Eyes shut, I downed it in one shot.

The taste hit weird—salty, bitter. Almost made me gag.

But I forced it down and held out my hand. "Bracelet."

Eric clicked his tongue and tossed me the velvet case.

As I turned to go, I heard him whisper to Briana, "It's just a bracelet. I'll get you a better one."

I didn't look back.

This time around, I wanted nothing to do with them.

But life doesn't always play fair.

***

I'd barely stepped out of the clubhouse when a black van pulled up, quiet as a whisper.

The side door slid open with a sharp clang. A few guys in baseball caps jumped out—fast, ruthless, eyes like ice.

I clutched the velvet case to my chest. My palm was soaked.

"That's her. Go!" the lead guy barked.

Before he even finished, a fist came flying.

I flinched back—straight into a wall.

Nowhere to run.

A punch slammed into my shoulder, and everything blurred.

One of them grabbed my wrist and slammed me back against the wall.

"Who are you? What do you want?" I spat.

No answer. Just fists and kicks, dull and brutal.

I curled around the case, trying to protect it.

Then someone kicked me in the gut.

I hit the ground, gasping. The case slipped from my arms and hit the pavement.

Crack.

The antique glass-inlay bracelet spilled out—and shattered.

Just like that.

The men froze, eyes flicking to the broken pieces.

"Go," the leader said. Cold.

They disappeared into the night.

I lay there, gasping. Arms, face—everything burned.

My eyes locked on the shattered bracelet. My fingers wouldn't stop shaking.

My chest heaved, every inch of me screaming like I'd been ripped apart.

Then—click, click, click. Heels on pavement.

Briana.

She stepped into view, smirk locked in place.

Fake surprise dripped from her voice: "What's wrong, Lena? Cat got your tongue—or was it the drink? You know, the one the boys jerked off into?"

"You! You all—"

Nausea slammed into me.

I shoved my fingers down my throat, desperate to throw it up—nothing.

I reached out, grabbing for her skirt.

She stepped on my hand, cool as ever, then dusted off her dress like I was something disgusting stuck to her heel.

"Honestly, how useless can you be?" she sneered. "Can't even protect something your parents left you."

She spread her hands like she was innocent. "Oh, and those guys? I sent them. Just meant to scare you a little. Didn't expect... well, I guess that heirloom wasn't yours after all."

"Briana." My voice was rough, but steady. "You'll regret this."

She paused, then grinned wider.

"I'm looking forward to it, Lena."

And just like that, she turned and walked off.

I lay there on the cold pavement, clutching the shattered bracelet pieces.

Then I forced myself up.

By the time I got home, her mocking voice was still ringing in my head.

But then—

I laughed.

If peace was off the table, fine. I wasn't playing the victim anymore.

Tomorrow, they'd all see—

Who the real Leone heir was.

***

I didn't come back without backup. I kept a recorder on me—always.

After a beat, I made the call. "I need you to pull some surveillance footage."

The guy on the other end tried to play it cool, but I could hear the excitement. "Got it."

That night, I sat at my desk, uploaded the audio, and dropped it on every high-society gossip board I could find—plus a few tabloids that lived for this kind of drama.

The headline was simple:

[Fake Leone Heiress Hires Thugs to Assault Real Heiress and Smash Family Heirloom—Recording Leaked!]

In less than thirty minutes, the comment sections blew up.

[WTF, this is that sweet, gentle Briana Leone?]

[She sounds UNHINGED!]

[The real heiress got jumped and humiliated? That's savage.]

By 2 a.m., my family group chat was a full-on meltdown.

Uncle Novah: [What's going on?!]

Aunt Jessica: [Briana would NEVER do something like this!]

Uncle George: [Everyone calm down. Family meeting. 9 a.m. sharp. Mansion.]

***

Next morning, I strutted into the Leone mansion in a sleek black dress.

Every elder at the table looked like they'd sucked a lemon. Eric wouldn't meet my eyes—torn between guilt and irritation. Briana? Puffy-eyed and pitiful. Guess the waterworks ran all night.

"Lena Leone!" Uncle Novah slammed the table. "How could you post that online? You'll ruin Briana!"

I smiled, barely. Dropped a printed doc on the table.

"She ruined herself. That's from my lawyer."

Dead silence.

"I'm suing Briana. Assault, property damage. And the rest of you—" I scanned the room. "Try messing with me again, and I'll see you in court."