The Switched Heiress's Stolen Life

Krista Brown POV

Jorja stepped out from the doorway, sinking to her knees at my feet.

"Krista, I am so sorry. I'll disappear. Just please don't fight with them."

Her tears felt performative—forced, almost theatrical.

She looked up, appealing to Broderick and Elijah. "I swear, I never meant for any of this to happen."

Elijah rushed forward, helping Jorja to her feet. His hand lingered on her arm.

He looked at me, cold and accusatory. "You're being unreasonable. Jorja is innocent."

Broderick stepped between us. "You're blaming her out of grief. Jorja loved those girls."

He fixed me with a stern look. "You're just jealous of her connection with us."

Jealous? My children were dead.

"Do you know what this could do to her career?" Elijah pressed. "This accusation would destroy everything."

I stared at them—my husband, my brother—shielding Jorja with a concern they hadn't shown my daughters.

Only this morning, Anna and Nora had embraced me. We had laughed over breakfast.

How could they turn on me so viciously?

Jorja watched me from behind their shoulders. Her eyes held a glint that was anything but sorrowful.

Triumph.

"I will not compromise," I said, my voice hoarse. "I will pursue every legal avenue. I will get justice for my daughters."

Elijah's eyes narrowed. He scooped Jorja into his arms.

"Make sure no lawyer in this city takes her case, Broderick. Use whatever influence you have."

Broderick nodded. "Consider it done."

The door slammed shut.

I heard Elijah's muffled voice: "Keep her confined. No visitors. No phone calls."

My legs gave out. I crumpled to the floor.

I remembered the early days. Jorja had tried everything to get rid of me. Elijah and Broderick always defended me. Or so I believed.

Then I recalled the day Jorja packed a bag and left in a dramatic fit of tears.

"Good riddance," Broderick had said. "You, Krista—you're the real deal."

Elijah had pulled me close. "You're the only Alston woman who matters to us now."

They never suggested I change my last name to Alston.

Now I understood. I was never truly family. Just a placeholder.

Ten years of living a lie.

They had taken my children. My freedom.

They would not take my will.

I took out my phone and dialed every lawyer in Boston. Hundreds of calls.

Each one ended the same. "I'm sorry, I can't take your case."

Broderick's influence was absolute.

Drowning in despair, I posted a desperate plea online. "Seeking legal representation. Justice for Anna and Nora."

One day passed. Two.

Silence.

I screamed. I ran at the iron door. I clawed at the steel until my hands bled.

"Let me out!"

My pleas bounced off padded walls.

Exhaustion took me.

Then footsteps.

The door creaked open.

Jorja stood there, a triumphant smirk on her lips. Pristine white dress. Perfect hair.

She surveyed my disheveled state. Her eyes gleamed.

"Still stubborn, Krista? You should just sign the papers."

She thought she had won. She had no idea I was about to fight back.