My hands trembled as I adjusted the lace on my sleeve, the cathedral ceiling soaring above me like a promise. Outside, guests murmured, violins tuned, roses bloomed in perfect arrangements. Then I heard it—a gasp, a laugh too familiar—from the antechamber.\n\nThere they were. James, my James, his hand on Sophie’s waist, her head tipped back in ecstasy. 'We can’t keep doing this,' he whispered. 'Not after today.'\n\n'After today, she’ll be gone,' Sophie replied. 'Mom said once the merger goes through, they won’t need her anymore. No more donations. No more obligations.'\n\nI backed away, bile rising. At home, I confronted my parents. Dad wouldn’t meet my eyes. 'Rachel… you were always kind to us. But you have to understand—we saved Sophie’s life. You were compatible. It was fate.'\n\nFate? I wasn’t a sister. I was inventory.\n\nThat night, rain lashed the streets as I wandered, barefoot, dress soaked. A black car pulled up. A woman stepped out, silver hair glowing under the streetlight. 'Rachel Volkov,' she said. 'I’ve waited ten years to say this: you are my daughter. And you deserve everything they stole from you.'\n\nShe opened the door. Inside, a dossier lay on the seat—photos, birth certificates, a will. My real name. My real fortune.\n\nThe question wasn’t whether to get in. It was how fast I could burn the life behind me to the ground.