Chapter 1 Thrown Away Like Trash

The fire roared, spitting heat and smoke into the night.

Tilda Jenson lay crumpled on the dusty floor, her body too weak to move. Smoke scraped down her throat, dragging cough after cough out of her lungs. Tears streamed uncontrollably, stinging her eyes.

Her hair was a tangled mess, her face streaked with soot, yet nothing could hide her natural beauty.

She couldn’t move. Someone had drugged her—completely paralyzed her.

When had it happened?

A sweet voice slipped through the chaos. “Well, you look awful, Tilda.”

Kyla Jenson walked toward her, wearing a white dress and a gas mask. Her voice, light and innocent, was the voice of a little girl who could never hurt anyone.

At least, that’s what Tilda had once believed.

“It was you?” She rasped, disbelief widening her eyes. “You drugged me?”

Kyla was her younger sister in name.

“This is a little test,” Kyla said, smiling behind the mask. “When Mom, Dad, and all our brothers walk in and see us like this … Tell me, who do you think they’ll believe? You, or me?”

She pulled off her mask, fitted it gently onto Tilda’s face, then smudged ash across her own cheeks.

Pulling on a pair of gloves, she slipped a cutter from her pocket and drew the blade across her own forearm.

Blood poured down her wrist.

She tossed the cutter beside Tilda, peeled off the gloves, and slid them onto Tilda’s limp hands. Clutching her bleeding arm, she twisted her face into an expression of terror and screamed loudly.

“Help! Daddy! Mommy! Someone help me! Tilda’s gone crazy!”

The warehouse door slammed open.

“Kyla!”

Tilda watched as her parents and all seven brothers rushed right past her—straight to Kyla.

“Dad, Mom, it hurts! It really hurts! Tilda went crazy! She tried to set me on fire and said I don’t deserve to be a Jensons! She even cut me!”

Their eyes swept over Kyla’s bleeding arm, her tear-streaked face, and her trembling like a wounded rabbit. Then their gaze shifted to Tilda—slumped on the floor, a gas mask covering her face, the bloody cutter at her side, gloves on her hands.

"Russell Jenson’s face twisted with fury. He charged at Tilda and drove his foot into her stomach.

“How did I end up with a daughter like you? You disgust me!”"

The kick tore through her insides.

Her body ached, but her heart hurt even worse.

She felt like her body was shattered into pieces.

This was the same stomach that had once taken a bullet for him.

She remembered—years ago, Russell had taken both girls to a business event when a man burst in with a gun.

Without thinking, Tilda had stepped in front of him and taken the bullet, leaving a hole in her stomach.

But Russell had fled with Kyla, leaving her bleeding on the floor.

It was the police—not her father—who got her to the hospital.

She’d gone straight into the ICU, clinging to life by a thread.

Days later, the Jensons finally remembered her.

They only left Kyla’s side for a single hour to visit Tilda in the hospital.

Russell had looked guilty.

But the only thing he said in his defense was, “Kyla is your little sister, and she’s adopted. Now that we’ve found you, she’s afraid of losing her place in the family. As the older sister, you should be more understanding.”

And just like that, something came up with Kyla. The whole family rushed off in a hurry to take care of her.

From the way they treated her, anyone looking in would have thought Kyla was the real daughter.

And Tilda? She was nothing more than a stand-in. A placeholder.

Still, she believed him.

She actually—pathetically—believed him.

Because he was her father.

Because she had waited so long to find her family.

Because blood was supposed to mean something. She told herself the Jensons would never truly abandon their birth daughter.

So, she gave in to Kyla—again and again.

Whatever Kyla wanted, she handed over.

Every gift, every opportunity—Kyla chose first, and Tilda took whatever scraps were left.

She convinced herself that if she kept giving and kept sacrificing, they would eventually accept her. That someday, they would love her as their own.

Looking back now, what a joke.

What a pathetic, cruel joke.

She stared, hollow-eyed, as Kyla was carried out of the burning warehouse, surrounded by frantic concern and urgency.

And they left her behind—like trash no one wanted.

The flames closed in.

Pain ripped through her as fire consumed her skin. The searing heat swallowed every breath, every thought.

She could smell herself burning.

Tilda shut her eyes. A single tear slipped from the corner.

This life … I’ve done enough for them.

I’ve paid the Jensons back in full—with my life. My obsession with family. My desperate hope. All of it—paid in full.

If there’s a next life, let’s just be strangers.

That night, the news broke across Slosa: an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts had gone up in flames. One charred body was recovered. But before it could reach the hospital for an autopsy, it mysteriously vanished.

The next day, the Jenson Group released an official statement:

We have severed all ties with the girl we once believed to be our biological daughter.

From this day forward, Kyla Jenson is the only daughter we recognize.

Whatever Tilda Jenson did—or whatever became of her—is no longer our concern.

And just like that, the girl who had once set gossip blogs ablaze as the Jensons’ long-lost daughter faded from the headlines—replaced by newer, juicier scandals.

Forgotten.

Chapter 2 You Better Apologize, Tilda!

Tilda stared at her reflection in the mirror.

The face looking back at her seemed younger—like it was from five years ago.

Softer, but still showing hints of the beauty she would grow into.

“I-I came back to life?” She whispered, barely able to hear her own voice.

The date on her phone read: October 23, 2030.

Five years before the fire that had taken her life.

And just two weeks after the Jensons had brought her home.

She let out a self-mocking smile. “Is this the universe’s way of making fun of me? Giving me a second chance just to remind me how stupid I used to be?”

Whatever the reason, she wasn’t going to waste it.

She wasn’t here to win anyone’s approval this time. She wasn’t going to twist herself into someone else’s idea to fit in.

Given a second chance at life, this time, she was going to live for herself—and no one else.

Her eyes scanned the bedroom. Familiar, but strangely distant.

She changed out of her pajamas into a plain white T-shirt and faded jeans.

Her short hair framed her face with a sharper, more confident look.

She looked into the mirror again.

When she first arrived here, she’d brought nothing but a small suitcase and a fragile hope—hope that she’d finally found her real family.

Hope that she wouldn’t be alone anymore.

And so, she moved into this house.

A place called home, but it never felt like one.

From the outside, it was grand and polished, the kind of place that looked perfect in a magazine. But inside, it had chewed her up and spit her out.

Just as Tilda was lost in her grief—

Bang! Bang!

A loud pounding echoed from the door.

She pushed the sorrow aside, her eyes turning cold.

Without a word, she opened it, her face blank.

“Tilda! Mom and Dad want you downstairs.”

Wade Jenson stood there—tall, athletic, dressed in designer clothes, and glaring at her, hatefully.

Her biological brother.

Seventh in the Jensons lineup.

They both went to Orica University, a prestigious school.

Wade was a junior, Tilda a sophomore.

Kyla, the youngest, had just started her freshman year after finishing her SAT.

“I heard you,” Tilda said flatly.

Wade blinked, thrown off.

This wasn’t the Tilda he remembered. Back then, she’d been stiff, nervous, and desperate to please everyone.

She’d had no pride—always quick to help, always the last to speak, wanting to be close but too afraid to truly connect. Wade was annoyed with that timid, pitiful version of her.

Even after finding out she was their long-lost sister, he still couldn’t make himself care.

He already had a sister—Kyla. Sweet, gentle Kyla, the one he’d grown up with and protected his whole life.

Wade didn’t need a biological sister showing up out of nowhere. As far as he was concerned, gentle, kind-hearted Kyla was all he needed.

With a short snort, he said, “You know what you did. Get downstairs and get ready for your lecture.” Then he walked away.

“What did I do?”

Tilda muttered with a cold laugh.

Memories rushed back.

She knew exactly what today was.

Perfect.

Hands in her pockets, she strolled downstairs.

The first thing she heard was soft crying coming from the living room.

She saw Kyla sitting curled between Russell and Blair Jenson, their hands on her back, murmuring comfort.

From the outside, you’d think Kyla was the birth daughter and Tilda was the adopted one.

Their places had completely reversed.

The pain that stabbed Tilda’s heart was sharp but far from new.

She had wanted this kind of closeness her whole life—wanted it so badly that she’d hidden her real strength, buried her true self, and lived as if she were nothing.

She’d given up everything just to scrape together the smallest pinch of family love.

Even with this second chance, letting go of those feelings from the start wasn’t easy.

But she’d already decided—she would never let herself fall into that trap again.

She stood in silence, watching her parents with cool detachment, like they were actors on a stage.

Tilda wasn’t part of this scene anymore—just a spectator.

If it had been a good performance, maybe she would have even clapped.

But she no longer felt anything for the people still caught in the play.

That was it. Nothing more.

Wade came downstairs, and the moment he saw Tilda’s expression, his temper flared instantly.

“Aren’t you going to ask why Kyla’s crying?!” He barked.

“It’s not my fault she’s crying. Why should I ask?” Tilda’s voice was ice.

“You brat!”

Tilda didn’t look the slightest bit sorry. She acted like the whole thing had nothing to do with her.

That only made Wade angrier. He was seconds away from hitting her.

He couldn’t stand it. He refused to believe this cold, vile girl was his sister.

Kyla was the one who belonged in their family.

Tilda? She didn’t even deserve to exist. If she had just died, Kyla wouldn’t be upset right now.

His glare was full of hatred, like he wanted her gone—not just from the room, but from the world entirely.

Tilda felt it. She knew exactly what that look meant.

He probably wished she were dead. Then Kyla could take her place, and there’d be no more reason for all this drama.

The old Tilda would have been crushed. Her heart would’ve broken, the pain tearing her apart from the inside.

She would have asked herself over and over what she’d done wrong to deserve that look from her brother.

She’d grown up for nineteen years without love, without warmth, surviving on nothing but grit and stubbornness.

And when the Jensons finally found her? Even with Kyla already there, she had never been jealous. She’d treated Kyla like a real sister—putting her first, caring about her feelings, and never competing with her for anything.

Whenever people compared them, Tilda always stepped back. Again and again.

She gave up everything for one thing: family.

Tilda never asked to be loved the way Kyla was. All she wanted was for her family to notice her, even once.

She had lowered herself until she felt like nothing.

Tilda had gave away her life just for a chance to belong. Wasn’t that enough?

Apparently not. Never enough.

To the Jensons, Kyla was the only one who mattered.

Tilda was just a shadow, someone they barely noticed.

Maybe they really did wish she’d never been found.

Maybe her death would have been easier than letting her mess up the perfect picture they had.

The only reason they brought her home was because not bringing her home would’ve made them feel guilty.

They didn’t want guilt hanging over them. So, to ease their conscience and get rid of any regret, they reluctantly took her in.

Now, none of it mattered to Tilda anymore.

The growing tension between her and Wade finally caught Russell’s attention.

“Blair, stay with Kyla,” he told his wife quietly.

Then he stood and walked toward Tilda, his face dark with anger.

“Tilda, you’d better apologize—now!”

His voice hit the room like a cold, heavy bell.

Wade crossed his arms and smirked, ready to watch the show.

She made Kyla cry? Then she was about to pay for it.

The old Tilda would have panicked. She would have obeyed, trembling and scared.

But this time, she met Russell’s fury with a calm, steady gaze.

“And why exactly should I apologize?”

Tilda looked at Russell with steady eyes.

Compared to his explosive anger, her calm was like still water—and it carried a strange kind of power.

In that moment, their presence alone made it clear who stood taller.

Chapter 3 The Slap That Never Came

“What did you just say?”

Russell stared at her like he couldn’t believe his ears.

Even Wade froze.

“I said—why should I apologize? This isn’t the Middle Ages. Are you really going to punish your daughter like a criminal?”

Tilda’s voice was calm, almost too calm.

Her eyes were steady and cold, revealing almost nothing.

But deep down, there was a spark—one that had nothing to do with the Jensons.

She’d given up on them long ago.

When love dies, hatred goes with it.

Her anger was now with herself.

She thought of her past. Back then, when Russell told her to apologize, she did—scared and desperate.

When they accused her of baseless things, she tried again and again to explain, but no one ever listened.

As soon as Kyla cried, Wade slapped her.

She had apologized again and again, terrified they would hate her. Terrified to lose what little she thought she had. Even with blood in her mouth and shame in her eyes, she took the blame for something she didn’t do.

Why?

Why had she been such a fool and lived without pride?

Tilda’s fury was with the girl she used to be.

“Well, well,” Russell said sharply. “Look at you—grown up now, huh? Talking back to me?”

His temper flared. He raised his hand, ready to strike—

But Kyla stepped in.

“Dad! No!”

Her voice cut through the air, stopping him mid-swing.

Blair turned in shock. “Kyla, you … ”

Kyla broke down, sobbing so hard it seemed like she could collapse at any moment. “Don’t hit her! Please don’t! She’s your real daughter!”

Those words—your real daughter—pulled Russell back.

His gaze returned to Tilda, full of conflicting emotions.

He didn’t want to admit it, but this cold, ungrateful, stubborn girl was his flesh and blood.

And still … how could she be so wicked?

“Let’s just talk,” Blair said shakily. “No need for this to get violent.”

As much as it hurt to see Kyla cry, Tilda was still her biological daughter.

“Kyla, you’re too good,” Wade muttered, his voice tight.

Watching Kyla take the burn, she would rather be wounded and broken just to side with Tilda. Wade felt like his heart was being cut to pieces.

Why? Why couldn’t Kyla be his real sister? Why did it have to be Tilda—the one who was so cruel? It just wasn’t fair.

Russell took a deep breath, forcing his temper back down.

He kept his voice even. “Tilda, do you understand what you did wrong?”

“Not really.”

The reply was quick and sharp.

Everyone froze.

This wasn’t the girl they knew. She wasn’t timid. She wasn’t trying to earn anyone’s approval. She wasn’t trying to please them. She was different.

“YOU DON'T KNOW?” Russell repeated, each word cutting through the air like a whip.

“I don’t,” Tilda said again, clear and steady. If he wanted her to repeat it, she would.

As many times as he needed.

She doesn't know.

Her dark eyes locked on his, deep and unreadable. For a second, a chill slid down Russell’s spine. He had never seen that look in her before. She didn’t even seem like the same person.

Russell Jenson had once been the proud and celebrated chairman of the Jenson Group. A veteran in the business world, he had spent a lifetime navigating high-stakes deals and meeting every kind of person imaginable.

Even now, with his sons grown and running the company and himself long retired from the front lines, the sharp instincts he had honed over the years had hardly faded.

“Mom, Dad, please stop this,” Kyla whispered through her tears, moving closer to Tilda.

“Kyla, stay away from her!” Russell reached for her, worried she might get hurt—worried Tilda might lash out again.

For a brief moment, something ached in Tilda’s chest. But she let it. Wounds healed. Eventually.

She had seen this family for what it was. She no longer hoped for anything from them. And she would never bend again just to keep the peace.

“Tilda,” Kyla sobbed, turning toward her. “I know you’re the real daughter. I’m so sorry. You’ve had to live here pretending to be some distant relative because of me. I'm sorry that you couldn’t even use your real name!”

She clutched her chest, gasping for air. “You can have it all back—your name, your place. I don’t want anything. If me being here makes you uncomfortable, I’ll leave. I’ll move out. I’ll disappear. You’ll never have to see me again!”

Her tears flowed freely.

She looked so fragile. So heartbroken.

Blair couldn’t hold back anymore. Her eyes turned red, and tears began sliding down her cheeks, one after another.

“No one’s kicking you out,” Russell said firmly. “Kyla, I don’t care if Tilda’s my biological daughter. You’re my daughter too. Blood doesn’t change that. You’ll always be a Jenson.”

“Dad!” Kyla cried, collapsing into his arms. “Dad, I’m scared! I’m so scared!”

“It’s okay,” Russell whispered, holding her tight. “I’m here. No one can hurt you.”

Then he turned a murderous glare on Tilda.

Whatever doubts he’d had were gone. Kyla’s tears had turned his guilt into pure rage again.

But Tilda didn’t flinch. She stood off to the side, silent and untouched, as if none of this had anything to do with her—like she was just watching a play.

“Tilda!” Wade burst out. “Do you even have a heart? Can’t you see what’s happening? Don’t you think you owe Kyla an apology? Tell her you’re sorry right now!”

Wade couldn’t take it anymore. He stepped forward, eyes blazing, staring her down.

Tilda almost laughed. Her eyes, cold and mocking, locked on him. She didn’t say a word, but her look said plenty.

And Wade felt it—like she was judging him. Belittling him. She was the sister he had never accepted. The one he’d wished was dead.

Furious, he yanked out his phone and shoved it in her face. “Look at what you did! Don’t accuse us of blaming you for nothing!”

A bold headline filled the screen:

“Jenson’s Real Heiress Revealed—Tilda Jenson’s True Identity Exposed”

The article told everything: how Tilda had been stolen from the hospital as a newborn, went missing for nineteen years, and finally returned to her family.

The photos captured everything—Tilda walking in and out of the Jenson villa, snapshots from her campus life, and shots of her at family events.

Then came the second headline:

“What Happens to the Adopted Daughter Now?”

The internet exploded. Comments flooded in:

“Real heiress vs. fake heiress—this is getting juicy.”

“Rich people drama at its finest.”

“No way—Jenson Group’s stock is actually going up over this.”

“They really adore Kyla. She’s always at family events, always gorgeous, and treated like royalty.”

“The real one’s pretty too, not gonna lie.”

“But she doesn’t have the same presence. Kyla’s way more refined. Tilda probably had a rough life, and it shows.”

...

Tilda barely glanced at the screen. Not a single emotion crossed her face.

“So what?” she spoke flatly.

Chapter 4 The Sweet, Innocent Kyla?

“So? After seeing all this, you still feel nothing?

“Tilda, we had an agreement. You promised we’d wait for the right time to reveal your identity—so it wouldn’t hurt Kyla. You swore you’d keep quiet until then.

“But you—” Wade’s voice shook with anger as he pointed a trembling finger at her. “You told us one thing, then went behind our backs and fed the tabloids the story! You sent them the photos. Don’t even try to deny it—we’ve confirmed it!”

The way Wade looked at Tilda was full of hostility, like she was his worst enemy instead of the sister they had searched for all these years.

“Tilda,” Russell said coldly, “because you grew up without the right environment, I’m giving you one last chance. Bow and apologize to Kyla, and I’ll forgive you. Apologize, and you can stay in this family as the rightful heiress.”

Russell glared at Tilda coldly.

He expected her to panic. To show regret. Maybe even cry.

Instead—

“Oh? Where’s your proof?” Tilda’s voice was calm, almost casual.

“Proof?” Wade blinked, caught off guard.

“You can’t just throw out random accusations. If you’re going to claim I leaked everything to the press, you’d better have evidence. If you don’t, I could sue you for defamation.”

Her composed reply stunned them all.

Sue us?

Defamation?

Was this really Tilda—the same timid girl who used to keep her head down and avoid conflict?

Even Kyla, still sniffling beside Russell, glanced up through her cry.

Tilda was different.

Something had changed.

Same face. Different fire.

She stood there, calm and poised.

More confident than ever.

And there was something about her—an elegance that seemed to radiate from the inside out.

A cold ripple of unease ran through Kyla, but she quickly buried it.

No. My plan is perfect. It has to be.

She kept her head low, hiding her expression.

Russell’s jaw tightened. “Fine. You really want to play tough?”

He pulled out his phone, dialed a number, then hit speaker and tossed it onto the table.

The call connected within seconds.

A respectful voice answered, “Mr. Jenson.”

“Mr. Read, tell everyone—who gave you the tip for that front-page article?”

A short pause. Then, “Didn’t we already go over this? It was Ms. Tilda.”

All eyes turned to Tilda.

This time, they thought, there’s no way she can talk her way out.

But Tilda didn’t flinch.

Instead of breaking down, she calmly pulled out her phone, turned the volume all the way up, and hit speaker mode.

“You’re saying I gave you the tip?” she asked.

Her voice wasn’t her own. Using a voice-changing app, she’d softened it into something higher and more delicate. Anyone who actually knew Tilda’s voice would recognize instantly—this wasn’t her.

Russell frowned.

What on earth is she doing?

Kyla’s stomach tightened. This is bad. Really bad. But if I jump in now, I’ll look guilty.

“Yes, Ms. Tilda,” Stan Read’s voice came through the speaker. “This isn’t my fault—I didn’t expect your father to find out so fast. Look, we’re just a small media company trying to keep the lights on. If we upset the Jenson Group, we won’t last a week in this city!”

Stan kept talking, but cracks were already showing in his story. The Jensons were starting to notice.

“Then tell me,” Tilda said evenly, “how exactly did I contact you in the first place? And why would I be stupid enough to give away my real identity?

“If the Jenson Group is as powerful as you claim, and you folded the second someone scared you—wouldn’t that make me suicidal?”

“Well—” Stan hesitated, then rushed out, “You called from a public phone. And as for your identity … let’s just say you slipped up. I figured it out myself.”

“You guessed?” Tilda’s laugh was soft but sharp.

“So you didn’t have actual proof before you ran the story? Just a hunch?”

“I—I …” Stan’s voice faltered.

Sweat pricked at his skin. Inside, he cursed himself.

He should never have said that.

Stan paused, drew in a breath, and answered with forced calm.

“I’ve heard your voice before. It’s one of a kind. Even when you tried to disguise it, there’s no way I could mistake it.

“And we met in person to go over the details. When you handed me those photos, I saw your face with my own eyes.”

“Oh, really?” Tilda arched an eyebrow. “You’re that sure about someone’s identity just from her voice—the same voice I just proved can be faked with an app? Don’t you think that’s a little ridiculous?”

She pounced on the flaw in his story.

“And you claim we met in person. That I gave you those photos. Do you have any proof of that? Security footage? Pictures? A recording?”

“I … ” Stan’s voice faltered. Sweat slid down his temples.

He had nothing.

Because the whole thing was a lie.

“And the voice you’re hearing right now?” Tilda added smoothly. “That’s not even mine. It’s a voice filter. I’ve been using it in front of everyone here. So if you really met me face-to-face, how could you fail to recognize my actual voice?

“You’re not seriously saying I stood there in front of you the whole time using a voice-changing app, are you?”

The truth was, Tilda didn’t need any app. She could change her voice on her own. But the app made the trap easier to spring.

She’d been through all of this once before.

Now, with a second chance, she carried the knowledge of everything that was coming. That was her greatest weapon.

And with the weight of family ties no longer holding her back, nothing could stop her—especially not when she had come back from the future knowing exactly how the game would play out.

Stan had no answer. He just sat there in stunned silence.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

He’d been told Tilda was timid—eager to please, easy to break. That if they pushed her hard enough, she’d crumble, apologize, and take the blame without a fight.

No one said she’d fight back.

No one said she’d call his bluff.

If he hadn’t been promised that Tilda wouldn’t cause a scene, he never would’ve framed the true heiress of the Jensons. One wrong move, and it could cost him everything.

Kyla’s heart thumped wildly.

Idiot! She screamed silently.

You botched it that fast? What kind of idiot becomes an editor-in-chief with half a brain?

Even Russell was starting to sense something was wrong.

“Mr. Read,” he growled, “didn’t you say Tilda gave you instructions herself?”

“There’s got to be some kind of misunderstanding,” Stan stammered. “It must’ve been someone pretending to be her who set me up.”

Desperation bled into his voice as he scrambled for a way out. He didn’t even know who the real mastermind was. All he knew was that the reward he’d been promised was too good to pass up.

Still, he had a guess. A suspicion. But the moment he said that name out loud, his career—and maybe more—would be over.

“I swear, I’ll find out who’s behind this,” Stan said quickly.

Russell’s gaze shifted toward Kyla.

She kept her head bowed, shoulders trembling, quiet sobs slipping past her lips. She looked so fragile, so small—like something that needed to be shielded from the world.

Russell shook the thought away.

No. It couldn’t be Kyla.

Kyla is kind. She is pure. Sweet and innocent.

There was no way a girl like her could have dreamed up such a cold, calculated plan.

Chapter 5 You Actually Believed It? How Ridiculous

When the call ended, the room fell into an uncomfortable silence.

Russell, Blair, and Wade all looked uneasy—because they’d just accused Tilda without proof.

Thinking back on what Stan had said, the flaws in his story were obvious. Still, the moment they found even the flimsiest scrap of evidence, they pounced, convinced Tilda had leaked the news to force them into acknowledging her as the real daughter.

The truth? They never trusted her. Their love for Kyla blinded them completely. The second Kyla shed a tear, all reason went out the window.

“Tilda, I’m so sorry,” Kyla finally spoke, breaking the heavy silence. Her eyes were red and watery as she stepped closer. “They jumped to defend me because I looked so upset. This is my fault. If I’d never come into this family, none of this would’ve happened.”

She started to bow, ready to ask for Tilda’s forgiveness.

“Kyla! What are you doing?!” Wade, standing closest, quickly grabbed her arm.

But Kyla wouldn’t stop. “Don’t try to stop me, Wade. This is my fault. If Tilda won’t forgive us, I won’t get up.”

With a dramatic drop, she bent at a perfect ninety degrees, tears spilling down her cheeks, dropped on the floor.

“Kyla, enough! Get up!” Russell and Blair rushed forward, panicked, trying to pull her upright. Her show of devotion moved them deeply.

In that instant, every doubt they’d had about her vanished.

Of course Kyla couldn’t be behind anything so cruel—how could a sweet, selfless girl like her ever scheme? It had to be someone else.

“Tilda, we were wrong to accuse you,” Russell said firmly. “Don’t worry. I’ll find out who did this and make sure they pay. Anyone who tries to slander our family is bound to pay!”

His jaw tightened. Nothing enraged him more than someone trying to divide his family. Harmony always came first in his book.

“You’re going to make it right?”

Tilda let out a sharp laugh, like she’d just heard the most absurd joke in the world. It started small but quickly grew louder, her whole body shaking until she had to hold her stomach. Tears slid down her cheeks—not from sadness, but from how unbelievably funny she found it.

Russell scowled. “What’s so funny?”

Tilda’s laughter only grew. She couldn’t help it—it was too absurd.

Russell’s grand promise to make things right had to be the biggest joke she’d ever heard.

This was the same man who had accused his daughter without a second thought, defending the adopted one without a shred of proof. The same man who had rallied the whole family against her, terrified that the daughter they had abandoned for years might come back and take even the smallest piece of what they had given Kyla.

They ignored the truth, throwing every ounce of blame at her feet. And now he wanted to make things right?

Maybe the old Tilda would’ve clung to that hope, desperate for their love.

But not this time.

This Tilda wasn’t the same naïve girl who believed their empty promises and chased after them like a fool.

“Mr. Jenson,” she said coolly, “do you honestly think you ever had the slightest intention of setting things right? If you ask me, you’re just an old man past his prime—how are you going to uncover anything?”

Her words were sharp, but she didn’t feel an ounce of guilt.

In fact, it felt good.

So good.

She remembered it all—taking a bullet for Russell, lying alone in a hospital bed, choking on smoke as the fire closed in, and that brutal kick that left her gasping. They had left her there to die.

Every memory burned inside her, feeding a dark, seething satisfaction to get her revenge.

And she was nowhere near finished.

No one—absolutely no one—had expected Tilda to speak like this.

Even Wade stared at her like she’d lost her mind. How else could she dare to say something so outrageous?

The meek, eager-to-please girl was gone.

In her place stood someone bold enough to call Russell old and past his prime—right to his face.

“What did you just say?!” Russell barked, his voice shaking with fury. “I’m your father! You dare talk to me like that? I admitted I was wrong to accuse you, and I apologized. But this attitude—what is it?!”

Russell Jenson had never feared anyone in his life—except his wife. Everyone else? Not a chance. All those kids of his knew better than to step out of line but were respectful in front of him?

And Tilda was actually challenging him? How dare she?

“Tilda, no matter what, he's still your father. Apologize to him!” Blair’s voice was icy.

Blair had felt a twinge of guilt earlier—but not anymore.

What kind of attitude was this?

To speak so harshly to her father?

She could hardly believe it. Her daughter had spent nineteen years out in the world, only to come back like this. How could someone like her possibly be worthy of being their daughter?

“Father?” Tilda’s lips curled into a cold sneer. “If that’s what a father is, then it disgusts me. I won’t apologize. And your apology? Keep it. I don’t want it.”

Her eyes blazed with clarity and fire. Her voice stayed steady, her tone unflinching—each word sharp, deliberate, and without pause.

It felt like she could finally breathe again, like she was truly alive. At last, she had the courage to speak her truth.

And the surprising part? It wasn’t even hard to say that to their face.

She realized she had been trapped for years by the illusion of love. But now, that illusion was gone, shattered beyond repair. She didn’t want this family. Not anymore.

“Tilda!” Russell trembled with rage.

If Russell hadn’t just accused her of something she didn’t do, he probably would’ve slapped her by now.

How had he ended up with such a bitter, spiteful daughter?

What a disgrace!

“Tilda, I know you’re upset, but please don’t blame Mom and Dad,” Kyla spoke up again. “Blame me. I’ll bow to you, I’ll walk out of this house, and I’ll stay out of your way if that’s what it takes.

“If giving back your place makes you happy, then I’ll give it back. Just stop being angry with them.”

She stepped closer, eyes wide and pitiful, her voice as sweet as syrup.

“Alright then,” Tilda said softly.

She gave Kyla a half-smile. “Fine. Walk out of this house and I’ll drop it. You said it, not me. I didn’t make you.”

Kyla froze.

Had Tilda lost her mind?

She actually agreed?!

Then again, Kyla’s heart leapt in secret. This would make everyone angrier at Tilda.

Kyla put on a wounded look, sniffled, and let tears stream down her cheeks. Wiping them away in one swift motion, she choked out, “I- I understand, Tilda. I’ll leave now! As long as I’m gone, this family can be at peace. I’m willing to do it!”

She turned and ran upstairs.

Blair quickly grabbed Kyla’s arm. “Kyla, don’t be upset. Tilda’s just talking out of anger. We’re here; no one’s going to drive you away!”

“Mom, just let me go,” Kyla choked out. “This house was never mine. Tilda’s your real daughter. I’m just the adopted one.”

Kyla sobbed in Blair’s arms, her voice raw from crying.

Every word she spoke landed like a hammer to the chest.

Everyone could feel her pain—it tore right through them.

Wade’s voice thundered, “Tilda! How dare you say that to Kyla?!”

The moment they realized Tilda truly meant to throw Kyla out, the rest of them snapped.

“So this is the real you. You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you? You just wanted Kyla gone so you could have it all!

“Well, guess what? Over my dead body! Kyla is a Jensons—she’s my sister!”

Wade didn’t hesitate to take Kyla’s side, glaring at Tilda with nothing but fury.

Looking at Wade’s face—so much like her own—made something twist in Tilda’s gut.

For the first time in her life, she hated her face.

Even the Jensons blood running through her veins disgusted her. The sickness in her stomach rose until she thought she might throw up.

But fate had given her a second chance, and she wasn’t going to waste it.

“You’re right,” she said quietly. “She’s your sister. I-I'm nobody.

“I was nothing more than a way to ease your guilt—a splinter stuck in your hearts for nineteen years. One you barely noticed until it started to fester. And bringing me back was just your way of yanking it out.

“I never mattered.”

Each word cut her own heart open, the pain so sharp it left her numb.

Only then did she finally feel free.

These were truths she’d always known but never dared to say.

Now she yanked them out—raw and hurting—and laid them right in front of everyone. Let them scoff. Let them sneer.

Because she finally saw it: they never saw her as family. And she’d actually believed they did. How foolish.

Russell lifted his hand. “I know you feel wronged and you’re furious right now, but Kyla is innocent! Go back to your room and reflect! Think about how ugly and out of line you just were!”

Chapter 6 Walking Away from the Jensons

“I don’t need this family, Mr. Jenson.”

Tilda’s eyes flashed with disdain as she took a slow, steady breath. At last, she spoke the words she’d been holding back for years.

“You treat Kyla like she’s the center of your universe, terrified someone might threaten her spot.

"Well, from this moment on, I’m cutting all ties with this family. I’m no longer your daughter.”

Without another word, Tilda turned and walked upstairs, ignoring every stare in the room.

As the words left her lips, an unexpected calm settled over her. The last thread of attachment had finally snapped, and she could let go.

When she came back down, the living room was frozen in silence. The Jensons were too stunned to react.

With a small suitcase in one hand and a plain backpack slung over her shoulder, she gave them a cold glance and headed for the front door.

“Wait!” Russell finally snapped out of it. “Tilda, are you serious?”

“Dead serious, Mr. Jenson. Isn’t this what you all wanted?”

A faint smirk curved her lips as she dragged her suitcase outside, not bothering to look back.

Inside, Kyla was nearly glowing with joy. She couldn’t believe Tilda had just handed over her place as the rightful heiress without a fight.

It was more than she’d ever dared hope for. Still, she had to play the part.

“Wade, you need to stop her,” Kyla cried, grabbing his arm. “If anyone should be leaving, it should be me, not her!

"She must be heartbroken over the misunderstanding. Please—go talk to her!”

Wade didn’t answer right away. His face was tight with mixed emotions.

Sure, a part of Wade had wished Tilda would just disappear forever so Kyla wouldn’t get hurt or overshadowed.

But blood ties are hard to ignore. Like it or not, Tilda was his sister.

And deep down, he knew—it was their blind faith in Kyla, their constant readiness to believe the worst in Tilda—that had pushed her to this point.

For once, guilt crept in.

Kyla caught the flicker of hesitation on his face, and panic shot through her. The Jensons still cared about Tilda. If she didn’t move fast, they might grow close again, and then … there might not be a place for her in this family anymore.

“Fine! Go ahead and leave!” Russell’s temper snapped. “Walk out that door and don’t come back! As far as I’m concerned, I have no daughter!”

Did this girl really think she could threaten him? That she could just storm out of the house and cut ties?

Did she think he’d fall for it?

Russell had seen it all in his years running the business world. He was certain that Tilda would regret this and come crawling back. No one in their right mind walked away from a life of luxury and privilege.

“Enough, Russell!” Blair’s voice cracked like a whip.

The change in him was instant. He shrank back, his fear of his wife plain for everyone to see.

“Mom, please, go after her,” Kyla said, her voice trembling as she switched to a softer approach, directing her plea at Blair.

“I’ll talk to her,” Blair said, striding toward the door. “Russell, Wade—stay here with Kyla.”

“This is all my fault,” Kyla cried, collapsing to the floor as tears streamed down her face. “If I hadn’t cried and made everyone misunderstand Tilda, none of this would’ve happened. I’m just a burden. I should be the one leaving this family.”

Wade’s chest tightened. Seeing Kyla cry tore him apart.

“Kyla, no,” he said quickly. “This isn’t on you. You were upset—anyone would be. We’re the ones who shouldn’t have kept things from you. That’s what made everything blow up.”

Russell let out a long sigh. “Wade, take Kyla to her room. I’ll deal with the rest.”

…

Blair caught up to Tilda just outside the door.

“Tilda, wait!”

Tilda stopped and slowly turned, her voice calm and distant. “Mrs. Jenson, what is it?”

“I know you’re hurt. I know you think we’ve treated you unfairly. If an apology is what you want, then we’ll give it. But please—don’t talk about cutting ties. Things aren’t what you think.

“You’re my daughter,” Blair said, her voice shaking, eyes glistening. “I carried you for nine months. You’re a part of me. How could we ever not want you?”

She meant it. She cared for Tilda—she always had. But with Kyla in the picture, the choice between them had never been simple. In her heart, they were both her daughters, just in different ways.

Tilda studied the woman in front of her—elegant, tearful, and heartbroken. She lamented.

In another life, there had been so many moments when she’d been ready to walk away. But each time, Blair’s kindness had pulled her back. She had stayed, soft-hearted and desperate for love, and it had trapped her.

In the end, she had sunk deeper and deeper until there was no way out—betrayed by Kyla, left to die in a burning warehouse. She had felt the searing agony of flames consuming her and the crushing loneliness of being abandoned by her own family.

This time around, Tilda swore she would never endure that pain again.

“I don’t need it. And it’s too much for me,” Tilda said firmly.

“Mrs. Jenson, this is my choice. Don’t carry it like it’s your burden.

"I’m not going to do anything stupid. I’ll be fine—better than fine.”

“Tilda … ” Blair reached out instinctively to stop her.

But Tilda stepped back.

“Goodbye, Mrs. Jenson. Let’s end this with some dignity.

"You already have the daughter you’ve always cherished. As for me, I’ll find my own way.”

If she was going to cut ties, she’d do it clean—no loose ends.

Ignoring Blair’s desperate plea, she gripped the handle of her suitcase, turned her back, and walked out of the villa.

Just like the day she first arrived.

Back then, she had come with nervous excitement—hope, fear, and even joy.

This time, her heart was steady. There was no shock, no grief—only clarity.

When you’ve truly made up your mind, that first step isn’t nearly as hard as you thought.

That family had given her nothing but scars, and there was nothing left to mend.

Blair stood frozen, watching her daughter disappear down the hill, completely at a loss.

Just yesterday, Tilda had looked at her with wide, hopeful eyes and sneakily called her “Mom.”

Like a child afraid to do anything wrong.

She longed for a mother’s love, but the gap between them made her afraid of upsetting Blair, so she trod carefully, never daring to get too close.

If it weren’t for her face, Blair might not have recognized the girl walking away now.

Tilda rolled her suitcase down the slope and raised a hand to flag a taxi.

The driver had the radio on, and just as she climbed in, a news segment about the Jensons scandal blared through the speakers.

“Where to, miss?” he asked.

“A nearby motel,” she said. “One that doesn’t require ID.”

She didn’t have a place to stay yet.

Tilda barely had any money left.

First things first—she needed cash. Without it, even feeding herself would be a problem.

Chapter 7 Welcome Back, Queen

Tilda chose a motel for two reasons.

First, it was cheap.

Second, it kept her off the radar.

Hotels asked for ID at check-in, and even if she hid behind a cap and sunglasses, it wouldn’t help now—her face and name were already plastered everywhere.

“Sure thing,” the cab driver said with a nod. He looked like he’d been in the business for years, someone who knew every street in the area. Requests like hers didn’t surprise him.

But then …

“Miss, you just came from that fancy neighborhood up on the hill, right? Isn’t that where the Jensons live?”

He glanced at her again. “You look familiar. Have we met?”

As he spoke, something seemed to click for him. Right on cue, the radio buzzed with another breaking story about the real Jensons heiress.

“I’m not her,” Tilda said coolly. “I’ve got nothing to do with them.”

“Oh. My mistake. It’s just … The Jensons have been all over the news today.”

“It’s fine.”

Minutes later, the cab pulled up to a small, run-down motel tucked on a quiet street. Tilda paid the fare, checked in, and let herself into the room.

She dropped her suitcase onto the floor, pulled out her phone, and made a call.

A cheesy ringtone blared. Don’t tell me it’s not worth trying for; you can’t tell me it’s not worthy of dying for ...

The phone was soon connected.

“Queen! Oh my god, it’s really you!” The voice on the other end practically exploded with excitement. “I thought you were gone for good! You vanished off the dark web and swore you’d never come back!”

Tilda had expected the reaction. She pulled the phone slightly away from her ear.

“Andy, I need cash. I’m taking jobs again. Got anything quick?”

“You’re coming back?!” Andy Saville practically shouted. Damn! The dark web’s about to erupt in chaos again!

"Queen,” he added with a mix of awe and excitement, “with your record, landing work will be a piece of cake. Give me a little time—I’ll find something for you.”

He hung up before she could respond.

Tilda pulled a sleek laptop from her backpack and set it on the desk. The moment it powered up, her fingers danced over the keys, entering a long string of passwords.

A familiar screen appeared—a massive bronze door with a blood-red skull set deep in the center.

Then came a voice. Low. Old. Creepy enough to crawl under the skin.

“Welcome back, Queen.”

“I’m back,” she whispered.

She never thought she’d log in again.

The Dark Web—true to its name—was a hidden network linking the world’s underground.

The place offered every kind of job imaginable, things most people wouldn’t even believe existed.

Black-market auctions. Contract killings. Hacking … If something was illegal, it could be found here.

Of course, you needed more than curiosity to get into the Dark Web. You had to have the right connections—and enough money and influence—to become a client. Miss one, and you were out.

As for the contractors who could log in and take jobs, every single one of them had skills most people couldn’t even dream of. To get an account, you had to survive the administrator’s ability test—pass it, and you’d earn your own login and password.

Tilda was one of them; she had passed years ago.

Codename: Queen.

She had ruled this space once—a legend among hackers.

And now, word of her return ripped through the Dark Web like a shockwave.

Her inbox blew up. Message after message poured in.

"Queen's back?!"

She opened her profile, deleted the old status—“Retired. Gone for good.”

Replaced it with just two words: “I’m back.”

That alone sent the entire network into chaos.

Queen had returned.

Hackers everywhere were celebrating.

In their world, Queen was a legend. She was the one who cracked Motrar’s firewall—something experts had called unbreakable. The code was flawless, or so they thought. Queen found the weak spot, exploited it, and tore it down. The breach was so severe, the country had to rebuild its entire system from scratch.

That single job put her at the very top.

People called her the best hacker alive.

If Queen couldn’t find it, it simply didn’t exist.

A month ago, she’d shocked everyone by announcing she was retiring, then deactivated her account. The rumor mill went wild—had something happened to her?

Now, the mystery was over.

Queen was back.

Tilda’s phone buzzed again.

“Queen, I’ve got something for you. Need a terrorist group’s firewall taken down. Five million. Payment’s instant.”

“Done.”

She had her own code when it came to work:

Rule One – Never take a job that threatened national security.

Rule Two – Never cross the line of basic human decency.

Rule Three – Never turn against the innocent.

Because of those rules, even with her reputation on the dark web, there were plenty of jobs she refused. Clients who could post there were almost always knee-deep in something shady. But this one? This was precisely the kind of mission she liked.

Her fingers flew across the keyboard, lines of code spilling down the screen like a waterfall. To anyone else, it would’ve looked like nonsense—random symbols, numbers, and commands. To her, it was music.

The terrorist network’s firewall folded under her attack like it was nothing but cardboard.

“All done,” she told Andy.

“Perfect. I’ll wire the money—same account?”

“Yeah. Andy, your cut’s a million—”

“Forget it,” he cut in. “Call it a welcome-back gift. You donated everything when you left. I’m guessing you’re dealing with a lot right now. And trust me, money’s good to have.”

“Thank you.”

A small smile touched her lips.

This—this rush—was what she’d missed.

Being given a second chance was a gift, and she wasn’t about to waste it pretending to be someone she wasn’t. No more silencing her instincts for the sake of a fake family.

Andy hesitated, then asked carefully, “Queen … didn’t you find your real family? Wasn’t that why you quit? To keep them safe? You even gave away everything you’d earned.”

“I don’t have a family,” Tilda said, her tone firm. “From now on, I belong to no one. I live for myself.”

Her voice was clear, sharp, and steady—leaving no room for doubt.

In the entire dark web, there was only one person she trusted: Andy.

And Andy knew her story.

His chest tightened for her. He knew life at home hadn’t been easy.

Who would’ve guessed that the legendary Queen was a nineteen-year-old student—an orphan? She’d finally tracked down her birth family, only for it to end like this.

Andy knew how badly Tilda had yearned for love. But the stronger the craving, the deeper the cut when it turned on you.

Her heart must have been in pieces.

“Don’t worry, Queen. I got you. If anything happens, I’ll be there for you. Even if the whole world turns on you, I’ll stand with you. Always. I believe in you.”

“Thank you, Andy. You’re my best friend. Always.”

There was a pause, then Andy said, “One more thing. Someone with your same blood type contacted me.”

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

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The fire roared, spitting heat and smoke into the night.

Tilda Jenson lay crumpled on the dusty floor, her body too weak to move. Smoke scraped down her throat, dragging cough after cough out of her lungs. Tears streamed uncontrollably, stinging her eyes.

Her hair was a tangled mess, her face streaked with soot, yet nothing could hide her natural beauty.

She couldn’t move. Someone had drugged her—completely paralyzed her.

When had it happened?

A sweet voice slipped through the chaos. “Well, you look awful, Tilda.”

Kyla Jenson walked toward her, wearing a white dress and a gas mask. Her voice, light and innocent, was the voice of a little girl who could never hurt anyone.

At least, that’s what Tilda had once believed.

“It was you?” She rasped, disbelief widening her eyes. “You drugged me?”

Kyla was her younger sister in name.

“This is a little test,” Kyla said, smiling behind the mask. “When Mom, Dad, and all our brothers walk in and see us like this … Tell me, who do you think they’ll believe? You, or me?”

She pulled off her mask, fitted it gently onto Tilda’s face, then smudged ash across her own cheeks.

Pulling on a pair of gloves, she slipped a cutter from her pocket and drew the blade across her own forearm.

Blood poured down her wrist.

She tossed the cutter beside Tilda, peeled off the gloves, and slid them onto Tilda’s limp hands. Clutching her bleeding arm, she twisted her face into an expression of terror and screamed loudly.

“Help! Daddy! Mommy! Someone help me! Tilda’s gone crazy!”

The warehouse door slammed open.

“Kyla!”

Tilda watched as her parents and all seven brothers rushed right past her—straight to Kyla.

“Dad, Mom, it hurts! It really hurts! Tilda went crazy! She tried to set me on fire and said I don’t deserve to be a Jensons! She even cut me!”

Their eyes swept over Kyla’s bleeding arm, her tear-streaked face, and her trembling like a wounded rabbit. Then their gaze shifted to Tilda—slumped on the floor, a gas mask covering her face, the bloody cutter at her side, gloves on her hands.

Russell Jenson’s face twisted with fury. He charged at Tilda and drove his foot into her stomach.

“How did I end up with a daughter like you? You disgust me!”

The kick tore through her insides.

Her body ached, but her heart hurt even worse.

She felt like her body was shattered into pieces.

This was the same stomach that had once taken a bullet for him.

She remembered—years ago, Russell had taken both girls to a business event when a man burst in with a gun.

Without thinking, Tilda had stepped in front of him and took the bullet, leaving a hole in her stomach.

But Russell had fled with Kyla, leaving her bleeding on the floor.

It was the police—not her father—who got her to the hospital.

She’d gone straight into the ICU, clinging to life by a thread.

Days later, the Jensons finally remembered her.

They only left Kyla’s side for a single hour to visit Tilda in the hospital.

Russell had looked guilty.

But the only thing he said in his defense was, “Kyla is your little sister, and she’s adopted. Now that we’ve found you, she’s afraid of losing her place in the family. As the older sister, you should be more understanding.”

And just like that, something came up with Kyla. The whole family rushed off in a hurry to take care of her.

From the way they treated her, anyone looking in would have thought Kyla was the real daughter.

And Tilda? She was nothing more than a stand-in. A placeholder.

Still, she believed him.

She actually—pathetically—believed him.

Because he was her father.

Because she had waited so long to find her family.

Because blood was supposed to mean something. She told herself the Jensons would never truly abandon their birth daughter.

So, she gave in to Kyla—again and again.

Whatever Kyla wanted, she handed over.

Every gift, every opportunity—Kyla chose first, and Tilda took whatever scraps were left.

She convinced herself that if she kept giving and kept sacrificing, they would eventually accept her. That someday, they would love her as their own.

Looking back now, what a joke.

What a pathetic, cruel joke.

She stared, hollow-eyed, as Kyla was carried out of the burning warehouse, surrounded by frantic concern and urgency.

And they left her behind—like trash no one wanted.

The flames closed in.

Pain ripped through her as fire consumed her skin. The searing heat swallowed every breath, every thought.

She could smell herself burning.

Tilda shut her eyes. A single tear slipped from the corner.

This life … I’ve done enough for them.

I’ve paid the Jensons back in full—with my life. My obsession with family. My desperate hope. All of it—paid in full.

If there’s a next life, let’s just be strangers.

That night, the news broke across Slosa: an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts had gone up in flames. One charred body was recovered. But before it could reach the hospital for an autopsy, it mysteriously vanished.

The next day, the Jenson Group released an official statement:

We have severed all ties with the girl we once believed to be our biological daughter.

From this day forward, Kyla Jenson is the only daughter we recognize.

Whatever Tilda Jenson did—or whatever became of her—is no longer our concern.

And just like that, the girl who had once set gossip blogs ablaze as the Jensons’ long-lost daughter faded from the headlines—replaced by newer, juicier scandals.

Forgotten.