My Sister Stole My Killer Boyfriend

The women in our family had special genes. For generations, Hart women could only give birth to daughters, and those daughters had to take their mother's surname. Only then would they have a chance to inherit the exchange system.

This was just a legend passed down among the Hart women. I never imagined Mom would actually inherit the exchange system.

The first time I realized something was wrong was after my college entrance exam results came out.

I had always been an excellent student, but I only scored 700 points. Meanwhile, my sister Poppy, who had partied for three years straight, scored 1350.

Poppy became the biggest underdog story that year and was interviewed constantly by the media. While classmates and relatives showered her with praise, I became a joke.

"This is hilarious. The top student only got 700? She must have been cheating on every test before."

"She always studied so hard. How did she only get 700? Was the exam really that brutal? I got 1100."

"Damn, Poppy really hit the jackpot, though! She can go anywhere she wants now."

After listening to everyone mock me, I immediately requested a score review. However, the state examination board came back with ‘no errors found’.

I went home defeated and started preparing to repeat my senior year.

That summer was torture.

Poppy sprawled on the couch, watching TV and eating watermelon. She went on trips around the country with Mom and had packages delivered every single day. She was living her best life.

I locked myself in my room every day reviewing material, gearing up for round two of senior year.

Poppy loved rubbing it in. "Elisa, you're just not built for standardized tests. You crack under pressure and always bomb the big exams. Just get a job at some factory and call it a day."

Whenever Poppy went after me like this, Mom would stop her. Then, she would turn to me with encouragement. "Elisa, don't worry about repeating. You'll do great next year."

I thought it was odd that my scores had tanked so much, yet Mom did not seem surprised at all. However, hearing support from my mother, who usually ignored me, made me brush off the weird feelings I had.

The next year, I ranked third in the state and got into Whitmore University's finance program.

Finally, I could hold my head high. However, Mom insisted I come home after graduation and get a government job.

I refused.

She cried, threw fits, and threatened suicide. I had no choice but to pretend I was applying for government positions while I was actually prepping for investment banking interviews.

After my interview, the professor who referred me said I was a shoo-in. The offer would arrive in a few days.

I called Mom to share the news. "Mom, I got it! I have a job!"

She sounded thrilled. "Are you sure? Did you really get it?"

"Yes, I'm positive! The interview went so well! But it's not..."

She hung up before I could finish.

I decided to wait for the official offer before explaining everything. I wanted to tell her that investment banking paid incredibly well.

A few days later, my guaranteed offer disappeared. My professor told me they had given it to someone named Poppy Hart instead.

Furious, I rushed home to confront Poppy. However, I stopped when I heard her and Mom talking.

"I swapped your exam scores for you and got you a stable job, too. You'll coast through life now. That makes me feel so much better."

Poppy nestled against Mom, grinning. "Mom, you're amazing. I love you so much. Will the last swap be for Elisa's husband?"

Mom shook her head. "Of course not. I'll find you a good husband myself. The last swap needs to be saved for emergencies, so you'll have a backup plan when you're in labor or if something terrible happens."

Poppy looked even happier. "You're the best. Thank god Aunt Margaret dumped Elisa on you before she died. With her around, I don't have to lift a finger. I’ll just swap everything with her!"

Mom stroked Poppy's hair affectionately. Inside the room was a picture of perfect maternal love.

I stood frozen in the doorway, ice running through my veins.

Fury boiled up inside me. I dug my nails into my palms so hard that I nearly drew blood, barely keeping myself under control.

This was the ugly truth. The woman I called ‘Mom’ was actually my aunt.

She had an exchange system that she could use three times, and she had already stolen my exam scores and my job.