Your decisions shape the fragile balance between survival and dignity in a city that forgets its laborers. Disha exposes the raw truth of immigrant workers fighting to belong—where every choice risks exploitation or erasure. You walk among them now, voiceless, invisible, but not yet broken.

I held our marriage certificate like it was sacred—until the clerk told me it meant nothing. Reginald is legally married to another woman. Ingrid. The same woman he swore he despised five years ago when he came back to me, memory lost and heart bleeding. For five years, I lived in his arms, believing every 'I love you' was mine alone. But now I know: I was never the wife. Just the understudy. And they expect me to bow out quietly? No. If this is war, then let the curtain rise on my revenge.

I remember the day they took my sister. The dust kicked up by their black sedan swallowed her whole, but not before she screamed two words I never heard. Years later, I found her trace in the coldest place imaginable—in the wallet of the man I’m dating, the son of the family that erased her. There’s a photo of four people smiling like a perfect family. But there are only three Morrows. And one of them… looks exactly like Leticia. Now I’m living a lie—pretending to be in love, sneaking through shadows for answers. Every kiss from Preston tastes like betrayal. Because if I’m right, then she wasn’t adopted. She was buried alive in their world. And I’m the only one who remembers she existed.