Blurb：
When Luna Taylor returns from a business trip, her wealthy family’s world is shattered. A stranger claims Zoe Taylor—Luna’s beloved younger sister—is an imposter, switched at birth twenty years ago. As a five-year-old, Luna witnessed the swap in the hospital and secretly reversed it. Now, with the family empire at stake and a mysterious girl producing Zoe’s original birth bracelet, dark secrets resurface. Can Luna protect Zoe and uncover the truth before their inheritance and bond are destroyed? Dive into a tale of sibling loyalty, hidden identities, and a childhood secret that could ruin the Taylor dynasty.
Content：
When I was five, my parents had a second child C a baby sister.
Visiting the hospital, I saw with my own eyes someone swap my sister with another baby.
I didn’t make a sound. I just quietly swapped them back myself.
Twenty years later, a young woman rushed to my parents, weeping:
Mom! Dad! I am your real daughter!
??
Returning from a business trip abroad, the atmosphere at home felt strangely heavy.
The house was unusually quiet, my parents’ expressions grim.
I set down the gifts I’d brought for everyone. Where’s Zoe? Isn’t it the weekend? Didn’t she come home?
Zoe Taylor, my sister five years younger, was a sophomore at the local university. She usually spends weekends at home if she could.
On the drive back, I’d almost pictured her reaction. She’d rush to the door,take my suitcase, and hug me excitedly, saying, Luna! I’ve missed you so much!
But Zoe wasn’t there. I found only my silent parents.
My dad beckoned me over. Luna, come here. Your mother and I have something important to discuss with you.
As the firstborn, I’d been involved in the family business since college.
The Taylor family was undeniably wealthy, with a lineage of notable figures and prosperous relatives.
The family empire awaited Zoe and me to inherit.
What’s going on? Why the secrecy? I asked, walking over suspiciously. Did something happen to Zoe at school? Was she bullied?
It was unthinkable that she would bully anyone.
No, Mom said, pulling me down beside her, her expression deeply troubled. It’s far more serious than that.
?
More serious than Zoe being bullied?
Did our business go bankrupt? Which one? Our holdings are diverse, I couldn’t immediately pinpoint which sector might be failing.
Not that either, Dad said.
He looked utterly distressed. Luna have you ever considered that Zoe might not be our biological child?
?
I turned to Mom. Mom, did you uh have an indiscretion in your youth?
Then I earned a sharp glare.
What nonsense is that? Dad’s voice rose slightly. I meant, is it possible that Zoe isn’t your mother’s or my biological daughter?
Impossible, I stated flatly.
After my response, Mom chimed in, her voice heavy with worry.
Exactly! How could a child we’ve raised for twenty years not be ours?
Their behavior was truly bizarre. I looed at them both.
What’s really going on? Who says Zoe isn’t our family?
From my parents, I heard the absurd story unfolding during my week away.
Just a few days ago, a 20-year-old girl showed up in front of my parents, clutching my mother and sobbing.
Mom! Dad! I am your real daughter! That girl you call Zoe Taylor now? She’s a fake! Her birth mother switched us at the hospital when we were born!
Some random person shows up claiming to be your daughter, and you just believe her? I was exasperated. Honestly, have you both lost your sense of judgment?
But she knew Zoe’s exact birth date and time, Mom countered. Even the hospital and the attending doctor.
That just means she’s a well-prepared fraud, I reasoned. That information isn’t exactly classified. Someone could remember it or have found out.
Your father and I were skeptical too, at first, Mom continued, but she produced the custom bracelet your grandmother had made for Zoe at birth.
Dad added, You were young then, maybe you don’t remember. Your grandmother had custom bracelets made for both you and Zoe. The one Zoe has now is a replacement. The original one, the one Grandma placed in her crib the day she was born it went missing sometime later.
Their words suddenly triggered a distant memory.
I was five when Zoe was born.
I’d come home from kindergarten to find only the housekeeper there. Crying for my parents, I was told they were at the hospital having the baby.
I probably saw my sister the next evening.
Zoe was already over ten hours old.
I don’t recall much about hospital security twenty years ago, but I do recall hearing many stories about child traffickers, some who stole babies right from hospital wards.
Dad had been called away to handle a company emergency. My mom was exhausted, and the doctor had insisted she get some rest. A nanny was supposed to be watching the baby, but I don’t recall why she left the room at that moment.
I stood on my tiptoe, peering into the crib at my sister. She was tiny, soft, and fragile-looking. But cute. Looked like me.
I stared at her for a long time, eventually getting drowsy.
The room was dim, meant for my mom and sister to rest.
Overcome with sleepiness, I took my mom’s coat from a hanger, draped it over myself, and curled up against the headboard of the bed, dozing off..
But soon, the sound of the door opening startled me awake.
I thought it was Dad, but it wasn’t.
A woman’s figure slipped into the room. Not our nanny, not a relative, not a friend of my parents.
She was holding an infant.
She placed that infant down and then picked up Zoe, tiptoeing back out.
Perhaps it was the dim light, my small size, my stillness in the corner, or the cover of my mom’s coat she didn’t notice anyone else in the room besides my mom and the baby.
I just watched, half-asleep, thinking it was a dream.
Then, when the soft click of the door closing sounded, I scrambled up, peering into the crib. While all newborns look somewhat similar, and this baby was wearing identical clothes, I had been staring at Zoe for too long. I knew.
She’d been switched!
Realizing something was wrong, I immediately tried to shake my mom awake. She was breathing evenly, but wouldn’t wake up.
Acting on instinct,. I opened the door, and just caught a glimpse of the woman turning a corner down the hall. I followed her.
She entered another patient’s room.
I heard muffled voices inside C hers, maybe? I couldn’t make out the words, but I memorized the room number.
Soon, a man came for her. They argued inside the room. He seemed to grab something from her, and she chased him out.
Now was my chance.
I tiptoed in. Zoe was in the crib.
I was absolutely sure it was her.
So, struggling, I picked her up and carried her back to Mom’s room.
Zoe made a little sound once, but bless her, she didn’t cry.
After returning Zoe, I went back and carried the strange baby to that other room.
The commotion happened when the nanny returned and saw me moving the babies, causing a great panic. My dad later scolded me severely for my “recklessness.”
As for my mom, she woke up a few hours later, fine, which was a relief.
The memory itself is hazy. For years afterward, I even thought I might have dreamed the whole thing.
And now, someone was using the bracelet Grandma gave Zoe to claim kinship.
I’m not sure if all the details in my memory are accurate.
But if it was a dream, then Zoe was never swapped.
If it wasn’t a dream, then I swapped her back myself all those years ago.
Where is this girl claiming to be family now? I asked.
Your father and I put her up in the Lakeview house, Mom said quietly.
I frowned. You put her in one of our houses without even doing a DNA test?
I couldn’t bring myself to, Mom murmured, looking down.
Dad hung his head too.
They were terrified of that what if.
How could they sever twenty years of bond if the daughter they raised wasn’t theirs?
How could they ever make up for twenty years if their biological daughter had been living elsewhere?
I didn’t share my memory. Even though I was certain Zoe was my sister, a five-year-old’s memory isn’t reliable. Only a DNA test could prove it conclusively.
Alright, I said, formulating a plan quickly. We’ll arrange to meet this girl ASAP and get a DNA test. Until the results are in, Zoe doesn’t need to know about this.
No one wants to see their loved ones questioning their blood ties.
My parents agreed.
What if what if the test shows she is related? Mom was still anxious.
I glanced at a work notification on my phone, replying absently.
Call the police on the trafficker. Bring the girl home. Compensate her appropriately. Zoe can move in with me. Failing that, Zoe’s an independent adult, she can take care of herself.
But, I added coolly, I’m inclined to think this is all just a farce.
Yet trouble arrived faster than tomorrow.
I thought only my parents and I knew about this. I was wrong. The next day, I received a call, Luna! Something’s happened!
Generally, college students don’t get called to the principal’s office. Today was an exception.
Zoe Taylor had gotten into a fight at school.
The caller was Zoe’s friend, saying Zoe didn’t want our parents involved.
The fact that my well-behaved sister had been in a fight shocked me. When I arrived at the police station, the place was crowded.
Amidst the crowd, I spotted a red-eyed Zoe with her friend and her young professor, who looked only a few years older than me. They were all there dealing with the aftermath of a student fight on campus.
Zoe, I called.
The upset young woman in the crowd turned, saw me, and immediately rushed over to hug me. Luna! You’re finally here!
I checked Zoe carefully. She seemed fine, just a slightly reddened knuckle.
What happened? Why the fight?
She pointed an accusing finger. Luna! Preston is cheating on you! With a girl from my school!
Preston.
My flanc.
Only then did I notice the man standing amidst the crowd, whom I hadn’t seen in over a week.
With my background, expecting pure love without considering a partner’s family and personal standing was impossible.
Preston was the flanc I chosesimilar social standing, decent looks, and our parents were satisfied.
His ambition and competence were mediocre, but I valued his lineage more.
It’s fine if he’s a bit useless, I can’t expect everyone to be as driven as I am.
Preston, what’s going on here? My gaze slowly settled on the handsome but disheveled man..
A bright red handprint marred his pale cheek. His clothes were rumpled, his expensive shirt wrinkled.
A pretty girl stood beside Preston, uncomfortably close.
Preston looked furious. Luna, don’t listen to Zoe. I was just giving a friend a ride to campus.
What friend’ gets all handsy and wears your jacket? Zoe wasn’t playing victim now. Hands on hips, radiating fury. How old are you? What kind of friend’ is she? Hitting on college girls? Have you no shame? How dare you cheating on Luna? I swear I’ll
My sweet Zoe seemed like a different person. She looked ready to lay into Preston again.
And this is your friend? I turned to the girl beside Preston. Which family is she from? I don’t recall seeing her before.
So far, I remained calm.
It’s not just my ingrained way of thinking.
Rich kids often whine about having money but no love.
Undeniably, money brings privilege. Happiness is another matter.
Naturally, most of our friends moved in the same circles.
However, Preston stiffened for a moment before saying. She’s not just someone I met at a restaurant.
The word friend is interesting.
Someone you met once can be a friend. An overly familiar woman can be a friend.
I wasn’t trying to expose anyone, but Zoe clearly didn’t buy Preston’s story.
What kind of friend’ is that close? You won’t even admit you’re cheating? Are you even a man? You good for nothing!
Zoe’s disapproval of this engagement was clear.
She’d objected when it was first arranged.
Preston had quite the reputation before our engagement. A certified playboy.
But for spiritually void wealthy people, seeking thrills from relationships seems almost expecteda matter of mutual consent..
Besides, engagement and marriage are different. Our families had a major two-year project, with about six months left. Any changes could be discussed later.
Zoe didn’t know this. She thought I genuinely loved Preston.
The professor and police officers present seemed relieved once they realized we knew each other.
Since it’s a personal matter, resolve it privately. No more violence.
Preston calling the police was somewhat impulsive. He knew perfectly well that given our families’ relationship, even if this escalated, his family would advise him to drop it.
Besides, he was at fault here.
Resolve? Unexpectedly, Preston was still fuming. He pointed at Zoe. Not unless she apologizes!
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