1 The day I was found by my birth parents, I was four years old. A bodyguard in a black suit drove me to a palatial estate nestled in the hills, a place that looked more like a palace than a home. That’s where I first met her. The false daughter, Claire, wearing an exquisite chiffon dress and a hair clip that probably cost thousands. She tilted her head, all innocence and purity. "Are you the new cleaner's daughter?" Given the personality my "adoptive" parents had beaten into me, I should have been terrified by the opulence, completely frozen and at a loss for words. But... apologies. This time, I’m the one who’s been reborn. I opened my eyes. Outside the tinted window of the luxury sedan, the world blurred past. Inside, it was just me, a tiny body huddled in the plush leather seat, and the bodyguard up front, all black suit and sunglasses. My eyes were lifeless, staring out the window. There was no childish wonder, just a deep, profound boredom. I really don't get it. Why give a second chance at life to someone who has absolutely no desire to live? Hmm... I tried to remember. My last life ended in... suicide? Yeah, I think that was it. The car moved fast, tracing the exact same path from my previous life, heading straight for the gilded cage that would trap me for a lifetime. That villa. A monument to extravagant wealth, a place only the true upper echelon had the right to inhabit. Inside lived the perfect family of four. The father, a CEO with terrifying power and influence. The mother, a beautiful and elegant socialite. The brother, a handsome and gentle protector of his little sister. And the sister, the innocent, doted-on family pet. They adored their youngest daughter. They spoiled her so much they couldn't even bear to send her to kindergarten until she was four. And then, the drama. The routine kindergarten physical revealed the shocking truth: the precious angel they had cherished for four years, the girl who was their entire world, wasn't biologically theirs. Their real daughter—me—had been swapped at birth. For four years, I'd been living in a run-down, remote fishing village. Though it was hard to accept, the wealthy parents immediately arranged to have their biological daughter brought back. But they could never have predicted that one day, they would scream at this same daughter, all to protect the fake one: "You're so venomous! I'd rather you had died out there!" That brother, always so warm and gentle to the world, would one day stand in front of Claire, shielding her from me. His voice, a cold warning: "Know when to back off. Don't push it." My fiancé, a man I barely knew, part of an arranged marriage alliance, would look at me with undisguised contempt. From the moment I was brought "home," everyone thought Claire was better, sweeter, more pitiful. I was the "real" daughter, supposedly returned to a life of luxury, but I was forever trapped in a life of comparisons, disgust, and false accusations. All I wanted was to be loved. And I was destroyed by that very desire. I felt something wet on my cheek. A tear. But I don't feel sad. Not at all. I prodded my sluggish, numb brain. After a moment, I could only curse. This new body is so damn sentimental. I remembered something else. Right before the darkness consumed me in my last life, a voice whispered in my ear: "You can't fight the protagonist's aura..." Can't fight it? If I can't fight it, why let me be reborn? Were you not entertained enough by my first life, watching me pace my cage like a pathetic animal? Or was my last life just not pathetic enough for you? The car was silent. No one answered my questions. 2 I was brought into the villa. Warren and Helen Ashford were already waiting on the sofa, beside them, my nine-year-old brother, Evan. They hadn't expected, I suppose, that no one would bother to change my clothes. I was still wearing my adoptive cousin's hand-me-downs—a filthy, worn-out shirt. On my feet were a pair of equally filthy sandals, the soles peeling off. My straw-colored hair was matted in clumps. I didn't miss the flicker of shock and... something complex... in their eyes. I didn't know if they were disgusted by my clothes, or just by me. "Mommy~" A girl in a poufy pink dress, her hair in perfect ringlets held back by a sparkling clip, descended the spiral staircase. A nanny followed dutifully behind her. Her dress was beautiful. The vibrant color, the delicate embroidery of little bunnies and flowers. Look at that. In an instant, she had captured everyone's attention. I have to admit, in my last life, I envied Claire. Even when I was pathetically trying to pull rank as the "real" daughter, I envied her. Her biological parents loved her—so much they’d swapped me for her, ensuring she’d have a good life. My biological parents loved her—before I died, hardly anyone even knew she was the fake. My brother loved her, protecting her at every turn. Everything that was supposed to be mine, loved her. Only I hated her. 3 My name is Audrey. Before my "real" parents found me, I was called Marina. Living in a fishing village, the name "Marina" was predictable, a choice I never got to make. Later, Warren Ashford changed "Marina" to "Audrey," meaning "noble strength." I was so happy then. I felt like a pearl, finally wiped clean of the mud, rescued from the filth. Only later did I realize the meaning didn't matter. What mattered was the sound. "Audrey." It sounds a lot like "Oddity." I was, and always would be, the odd one out. My lifelong nemesis is Claire. A name that means "clear, bright." A name Warren and Helen chose together, filled with their hopes and dreams. Everything she had, everything she would ever have, was supposed to be mine. She had a cunning that she masked with a clumsy, innocent facade, but I could never beat her. In the end, I lost. I didn't want to fight anymore. I was just so tired. I could no longer feel even a sliver of joy from the scraps of affection they threw my way. "Claire!" Helen instinctively shot up from the sofa and started towards her, then remembered. She stopped, turning to give the nanny behind Claire a complicated look. The nanny just lowered her head, looking distressed. Claire walked right up to me. Like we were born to be enemies, she noticed me immediately. Or maybe it was just that, in this palace of wealth, I was impossible to miss. A little beggar. Even her nanny was dressed better than me. She rubbed her eyes, still red from crying, and her voice was perfectly, childishly innocent. "Who are you? Are you the new cleaner's daughter?" The exact same words as last time. Warren, Helen, and Evan hadn't reacted yet. Everyone in the room was just watching us, like an audience. What did I do last time? Oh, right. Last time, I was so scared I plopped right onto the floor. Overwhelmed, my only clear thought was how soft the floor was. It was covered in a beautiful, plush rug, softer than the sand after the tide goes out. First impressions are everything. Claire had the ultimate advantage. From our very first meeting, I had already lost. She was pale, delicate, and lovable. I was sallow, skinny, and pathetic. This time, tears streamed down my face. My voice was small and timid. "Did... did my mommy sell me here? She said if I wasn't good, she would sell me." "Marina was good. I was good." I choked back my sobs, putting on the best performance I could for the audience—a child terrified, but trying desperately to be brave. This was Claire's signature move. It always triggered everyone's pity, making them feel like she was the most pitiful creature on earth. I scorned it in my last life, but now? It's actually kind of fun to try. She was never that smart. Her tactics were clumsy, relying entirely on that so-called... protagonist aura... to win the sympathy of idiots. I'd suffered so much because of it. Now, I wanted her to have a taste of her own medicine. An eye for an eye, isn't it? From the sofa, I heard Helen's heartbroken sob. I felt a wave of self-loathing. Is she really that sad? Does she have any idea she'll be one of the people who pushes me to my death? That she'll stand by and watch as Claire steals every single thing that belongs to me? I looked at Claire. Her focus was entirely on me. A small smile flickered at the corner of her mouth. My pitiful state clearly pleased her. Like a princess, she looked down on me, so much smaller and thinner than her. She spoke, as if granting me a great favor. "You're so pathetic. I'll talk to my mommy. You can be my personal maid." I had to hide my laughter at her clownish performance. I was just waiting for the real boss to arrive. 4 "Insolence!" A woman in her sixties, radiating an aura of old-money elegance, swept in through the front door. An assistant holding a briefcase followed her. The moment she spoke, the grand hall fell silent. Even Helen stopped crying. "Grandma~" A sweet, sugary voice. Claire lifted the hem of her dress and trotted over. It was obvious she was a favorite. But, to her dismay, the matriarch she adored walked right past her and knelt in front of the little beggar. Grandma stroked my matted hair, her smile surprisingly gentle. "What's your name?" I dropped the act. My voice was calm. "My name is Marina." I pointed at Claire, who was standing a few feet away, frozen. "Are you hiring me to be her personal maid?" My voice cracked, and I started crying again, as if I'd been deeply wronged. "Can I say no? I don't want to be anyone's maid." "The money my mommy took for selling me... I'll pay you back. I'll pay you back double when I grow up." I choked on the words. In my last life, Grandma was the only one immune to Claire's protagonist aura. She was the only one who watched me grow, saw my efforts, and actually praised me. Of course. I'm not delusional enough to think I can beat Claire's aura. But Grandma is a woman who values two things above all: bloodline and the family's interests. She'll dote on you if you have Ashford blood, and she'll discard you if you don't. To hold onto that one sliver of support, I worked myself to the bone. I became the perfect granddaughter she wanted. But even then, I could never outweigh Claire in everyone else's hearts. I still fell for every one of Claire's flimsy traps. In the end, I must have disappointed her, too. "Good girl," she said, her voice firm. "Of course you won't be a maid. Do you know who you are? You are my real granddaughter. You are the princess of the Ashford family." She said it for me. But she also said it for everyone else in that room. "Grandma! No! I'm your granddaughter!" Claire ran over and threw her arms around her. The assistant at her side instinctively pulled Claire off. Claire just struggled and wailed, her cries becoming hysterical. Helen, too, was covering her mouth, tears streaming. Grandma stood up, took my hand, and led me to the sofa. "Marina is an Ashford. The DNA results are back. A 99.9% match." The assistant, free of Claire, opened his briefcase and took out the paternity test. Claire seized the opportunity and ran to Helen, who hugged her tightly, both of them crying. I felt nothing. In my last life, this scene played out constantly. It always ended with them blaming me. Be more tolerant, Audrey. Claire has been through so much, why can't you just be the bigger person? What they really meant was: Why did you have to be the real one? You're ruining my perfect mother-daughter relationship with Claire. "An Ashford, lost for four years," Grandma said, her voice like steel. "I suspect this 'swap' wasn't an accident. If it was a simple mistake, there's nothing to be done. But if it was deliberate... this family will not be made fools of." She shot a cold glance at the sobbing Claire. "Furthermore, this child, Marina, has suffered for four years in Claire's place. I don't care about scandals or gossip. Find a good day, make the announcement, and restore Marina's proper identity." "Warren. You're the father. You decide." The man who had been silent on the sofa finally nodded, his expression severe. He glanced at his wife. "Fine. I'll have my team handle it this week. In the meantime, let... Marina... rest and recover here." "As for Claire..." Grandma cut him off. "It's not that this family can't afford to raise another child. But Audrey and Claire... their identities are awkward. Claire has occupied Audrey's place for four years, enjoyed everything that was Audrey's. It's time for her to go back where she belongs." "We don't know what dirty tricks those Baxter people pulled, but even if the child is innocent, the Ashfords are not unfeeling. We can set up a trust for Claire. It will be enough for her to live comfortably for the rest of her life." She looked at me, then back at them, decisive. "The children are still young. It's best to correct this now." In Helen's arms, Claire didn't seem to understand everything, but she knew she was being sent away. She started screaming, begging "Mommy" and "Daddy" not to abandon her, promising she'd be good and eat all her vegetables. Evan just stood by her, rubbing her back to calm her down. I stared at my dirty sandals, feeling absolutely no hope. I already knew how this farce would end. Helen couldn't stand Claire's heart-wrenching cries. And Warren, deep down, was a romantic who always indulged his wife. In the end, Claire stayed. It wasn't even difficult. They decided we would live as "fraternal twins." She would be the eldest daughter, I would be the second. Helen gave me a guilty look, then immediately looked back down at Claire in her arms, her eyes full of love. "Mom... what if... what if we let Claire stay? I've raised her for four years. She's my daughter, too." "Four years... that's over a thousand days of being her mother. I didn't know... I always thought she was mine. I gave her the best of everything..." "This was all a terrible mistake, it must mean Claire and our family are destined to be together. It's not like we can't afford one more child." "And Marina... Audrey... she needs time to adjust. Wouldn't it be better for her to have a sister?" I blinked, fighting the urge to laugh. She's the daughter you raised for four years. But me? Your actual daughter? I didn't get your love. I suffered for four years in her place. And now, I'm expected to "understand" your feelings and graciously accept the girl who stole my life? Not a chance in hell. I tugged on Grandma's skirt. She looked down at me, pausing before she could reply to Helen. "I'm hot," I said. Everyone looked at me. It was August, sweltering. The villa's central air was humming, but I was wearing a threadbare, fleece-lined shirt that was meant for late autumn, the sleeves hanging past my hands. It's safe to say Claire's biological parents, the Baxters, never bought me a single item of clothing after they swapped us. I wore whatever their relatives' kids grew out of. Didn't matter if it was for a boy or a girl, too big or too small. As long as I wasn't naked. The assistant heard me and asked Grandma if he should take me to change. Grandma nodded, but I immediately thrashed and refused. She looked puzzled, but there was a more pressing issue at hand. She just told the assistant to roll up my sleeves to help me cool down. In front of everyone, the assistant pushed up the long, filthy sleeve. And revealed my arm. Covered in bruises. Big ones, small ones, yellow, purple, and black. Someone in the room gasped. Helen pushed Claire away and lunged at me, but Grandma was faster. She blocked Helen, gripping my arm gently, her voice shaking with rage. "What is this? Marina, you tell Grandma. Who did this to you?" Helen stood just behind her, sobbing, covering her mouth, wanting to get closer but unable to.
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "385940", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel