Seizing the Heir’s Fortune, Starting with the Real Daughter’s Downfall

“You’re my favorite sister,” I told her softly. “You must never let anyone take that place from you. Remember?”

Allison hesitated, then nodded seriously.

From that day on, she began to restrain her temper. She even told our parents on her own, “I’m not as good as Sister in anything. From now on, please let her be the boss. I’ll just follow her and help out.”

Watching her so obedient and sensible, I almost felt a flicker of affection.

If only this girl could behave forever, I thought, the real sister would never return—and I could guarantee her a life of comfort.

But the things you fear most always find their way back.

The summer before I entered high school, my family accompanied me to the hospital for a checkup. On the way, our luxury car nearly hit a young girl.

She stumbled, scraped her knee, then immediately tried to run away.

Concerned, I rolled down the window to check on her. But the instant I saw her face, my breath caught—

That face was nearly identical to mine.

My real sister.

Panic seized me. How could she appear here in all places?

Fortunately, she didn’t notice anything unusual. She dusted off her knees and ran away in a hurry.

But my mother had also seen her. Gazing in the girl’s direction, she murmured, “Honey, doesn’t that child look exactly like Lydia when she was little?”

My real sister, perhaps sensing the attention, turned her back and locked eyes with my mother.

Alarm shot through me. I clutched my stomach and cried out, “Mom! My stomach hurts! I can’t stand it—I need to see a doctor!”

My parents immediately panicked, forgetting all about the mysterious girl. They sped to the hospital, hovering anxiously as doctors examined me.

Out of the corner of my eye, through the car window, I caught one last glimpse of her—standing at the corner of the street, staring after us.

My pulse pounded.

If she came back now, everything I’d built could collapse. She could play the victim, tell her sob story, and steal back the life that should have been mine.

Luckily, my little act worked. My parents insisted I stay in the hospital for observation, and I remained there for an entire day, hooked up to an IV.

When we finally returned home, she was gone.

That night, close to midnight, Allison quietly entered my room.

“I heard Mom say she saw a girl who looks a lot like you today,” she whispered, her eyes red. “That girl… she looked more like your sister than I do, right?”

Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Sister, do you think our parents… took me by mistake? What if I’m not really their daughter, and they send me away?”

Her voice trembled with fear.

All those years of whispers—servants gossiping, outsiders comparing us—had already sown seeds of doubt in her heart. She’d never dared ask our parents directly, terrified of confirming her worst fear. And now, she came to me, her only refuge.

I looked at her straight in the eyes. “Do you remember what I once told you?”

She sniffled and nodded. “I remember. My identity as the second daughter of the Evans family is something no one can take away.”

I reached out, gently wiping her tears. “Your parents have raised you for so many years. Even a dog would inspire affection—how much more you, their daughter. As long as you work hard and refuse to back down, you’ll always be my dearest sister.”

Since the real one had reappeared, I knew I had to prepare.

And Allison—blinded by fear and love—would play her part perfectly.

Her expression hardened, and she said firmly, “I’ll listen to you, Sister. I won’t let anyone take my place.”

The next morning, determined to regain control, I accessed my private vault and called a private investigator.

“I want every detail on Martha and her daughter,” I ordered. “Leave nothing unchecked.”

I also had the parking lot surveillance footage retrieved that day to find out why the real sister had appeared. The investigation unfolded in full force, and at fifteen, I already carried the air of someone in control.

But before I could receive the results, it happened.

That morning, just as my parents were about to drive us to school, a familiar figure suddenly rushed in front of the car, shouting with heart-wrenching determination:

“The current Allison is a fake! I am your real daughter!”