My Fake Sister Took My Life but the Genius Heir Chose Me

Even Grant Guzman, hearing the three-million-dollar demand, couldn't help but furrow his brow. Beside him, Avayah whispered, "I think Aspyn didn't mean it. She doesn't have that kind of money, so..."

Grant's chest warmed. His sister was too kind, too gentle. Three million? He could swing it. If it made Avayah happy, it was worth every penny.

He grabbed his checkbook, scrawled out a check, and tossed it at Aspyn's feet like trash.

"There you go!" His eyes brimmed with disdain, daring her to say a word.

Aspyn looked at the check on the floor, then lifted her gaze to meet his, icy and unblinking.

"Grant, don't act like you're doing charity. This money is what I'm owed. You pay for services, right? You pay your employees, don't you? I spent three years on your precious sister. Isn't three million justified?"

"You—" Grant's temper flared. He grabbed her arm on instinct, stretching the blouse off her shoulder.

He froze at the sight of thick scars crisscrossing her skin.

"What the hell is that?"

Aspyn glanced at her shoulder, her eyes darkening. She shook him off and adjusted her blouse. "Can't you see? I got hurt."

"How?" Grant frowned, genuinely puzzled.

Aspyn let out a mirthless laugh. "What do you think prison is like, Grant?"

His name on her lips—not "Mr. Guzman"—made Grant want to lash out, but her mocking stare stole his fire. Guilt crept in, and he looked away, defensive. "I had people keeping an eye on you. They said you were fine."

"Hah!" Aspyn laughed, her eyes going cold. She shoved both Grant and Avayah out of her room and slammed the door.

Grant wanted to storm back, but those scars haunted him. He'd shelled out serious cash to keep her safe in there. How could she've been hurt?

Then he thought about her voice. It wasn't the same—no more bright and clear, but rough and worn. What the hell had happened to her in those years?

The next morning, Aspyn was up early, ready in the living room. She'd actually slept well for once, no need to stay on alert.

Jay came down shortly after, not sparing her a glance. He just went about his routine. It was always like this—Grant would occasionally speak to her, Ezekiel might acknowledge her if he was in a good mood, but Jay stayed aloof, treating her like air, saving all his warmth for Avayah.

Funny thing was, her desperate need to connect with Jay—the family's academic star—had pushed her to excel in school. That's where she'd found her passion for biochemistry. But before she could ever have that conversation with him, she'd been locked away.

Now, she didn't want it. Didn't need it.

They coexisted in silence, a strange sort of peace.

Jay couldn't help glancing at her. She was glued to her phone, no intention of talking. He frowned. She used to hover around him, quiet but always there. Now, her indifference threw him off, though he told himself it suited him—he had no patience for nonsense anyway.

Soon, their mother and Avayah came down, noticing the siblings sitting apart, no interaction. Their mother sighed, resigned. Avayah's lips curled into a barely-there smile.

"Hey, Jay!" Avayah chirped, bouncing over to loop her arm through his. "Did you wait long?"

"Not long. Let's eat first. I'll take you to school after." Jay patted her head.

"Okay!"

Avayah beamed, and only then did she "notice" Aspyn. "You ready, Aspyn? Let's eat together?"

"Already ate," Aspyn said, not looking up.

She'd cooked herself a bowl of pasta earlier, just to avoid sitting with them. School would be a nice escape.

Their mother noticed Aspyn still in yesterday's clothes. "I had some clothes bought in your size last night. Let me know if they fit."

A housekeeper had chosen a T-shirt and jeans in her size. The clothes were impersonal, but at least they were practical—exactly what Aspyn preferred.

"Thanks, ma'am."

She went up to change.

Tall and lean, the outfit looked good on her. Clean, sharp. Her hair was cut short, adding to the neat look.

Their mother was about to compliment her when she saw a long scar on Aspyn's right arm—clearly from something sharp. She gasped.

"Your arm..."

Aspyn glanced at it, chuckling. "It's nothing. Just a nick."

Had she complained, their mother might've felt better. But her calm, matter-of-fact tone only stoked the guilt in her chest.

Their mother wasn't a fool. That wasn't a scratch. And with the scar on Aspyn's wrist too, she couldn't lie to herself anymore.

Aspyn's years in prison had been hell.

She opened her mouth to speak, but Aspyn's steady gaze left her wordless.

After they left, Grant finally came down. Their mother couldn't hold it in.

"Is it true she had a rough time in there? Didn't you make sure she was taken care of?"

Grant didn't have an answer, his face darkening. "I'll look into it."

"Please do. She's your sister. We can't have people thinking we mistreated her," their mother said softly.

In the car, Aspyn took her usual spot in the back, quiet and invisible. Jay chatted with Avayah, occasionally glancing at Aspyn in the mirror. She just stared out the window, never once looking back.

Finally, Jay broke the silence. "I'll take you to admissions later."

"No need, Jay. I've got it," Aspyn said, turning him down.

"Suit yourself!" Jay's face went cold.

He'd offered an olive branch, and she'd thrown it back. Have it her way.

At school, Aspyn found the admin office and handled her enrollment without a hitch. She was dying to switch her major.

What she'd expected to be a hassle turned out suspiciously easy—maybe the Guzmens had pulled strings, or maybe because she'd already been minoring in biochem.

Switching from literature to biochemistry was seamless. A genuine smile finally spread across Aspyn's face.

She had money now. She had her dream major. Everything was falling into place.

That happiness lasted barely an hour. She walked into the biochem office and found Jay and Avayah standing there. Small world.

Jay frowned. "Weren't you in literature? What are you doing here?"

Was she here for him? So she'd been pretending all morning, just to get his attention?