My Mate Is My Sister

My mother suddenly told me she had found the long-lost daughter we'd been separated from for years.

My heart skipped a beat, and my eyes fixated on the photo she held out. I pointed toward the corner, my voice cold.

"Then move my things out. "

She pushed my hand away gently. "Leo, what's going through your head? Even if your sister is back, you're still my little cub."

I bit back a growl. She's just trying to hold me back.

She wants to keep her perfect family together, even if it means putting me aside for that stranger.

"Fine, but I want a new car. Otherwise, forget it."

Mom shot me a strange look but didn't argue. "Do whatever you want," she said, dismissively.

What? She wouldn't even give me that?

She was so eager to embrace her biological daughter, but couldn't spare a damn car for me?

Dad had just gone to pick up my sister.

She was downstairs, and I was about to make my entrance.

I put on my most dazzling watch and headed down the stairs, determined to make her feel out of place.

Mom and my brother were already waiting by the door. And there she was-my sister.

I froze.

The woman standing with Dad was elegant, graceful, her long hair cascading down her shoulders.

Sunlight caught her, casting an ethereal glow around her, her presence calm but undeniable.

She exuded an aura of quiet authority, as if the world had always bent to her will.

That's my sister?

I could feel the wolf inside me clawing.

I gripped my bag tightly, my smile twisting into something more bitter.

But then she turned, and our eyes locked.

For a split second, I saw surprise in her gaze, then a small, knowing smile played at the corners of her lips. She stepped forward, stopping right in front of me.

"Leo," she said, her voice smooth, almost teasing. "I hear you're wearing my favorite watch?"

I froze.

Was she... mocking me?

I swallowed the frustration that rose in my throat. "It's just a watch,"

She raised an eyebrow. "It's not just any watch, is it? It's your watch. A little too much, don't you think?"

I hated that she was so effortlessly in control.

Mom watched from the side, a soft smile on her face, almost amused by the exchange.

"You two really are alike," she said with a chuckle.

"So meticulous, so aware of every little detail. It's like you've been born to clash with each other."

"Yeah," I said, voice tight. "Guess we'll have to get used to each other."