Blurb：
When Skylar’s wealthy birth parents finally locate her emerging from a coal mine, their disgust is palpable. Forced into a mansion with her adopted brother Julian and the girl who replaced her, Emma, Skylar navigates a twisted family dynamic. Emma’s manipulative welcome—pressing a paring knife into Skylar’s hand—hints at dark secrets beneath the surface. As Skylar’s lazy yet sharp demeanor clashes with Emma’s fake sweetness and Julian’s growing concern, a battle of wits and wills unfolds. Who is the true heiress? Dive into a tale of switched identities, hidden agendas, and a mine that holds more than coal.
Content：
When my birth parents finally found me, I had just crawled out of the mine shaft.
I was covered head to toe in coal dust, a complete mess.
I could tell the disgust on their faces the moment they laid eyes on me.
My birth father was the first to speak, Get her another car,” he said, not even lower his voice. “I don’t want her dirtying up the family car.
My birth mother forced a sympathetic smile, said with fake concern, “Sweetie, you’ve been through so much. Once you get home and clean up, I will make it all up to you, I promise”
Then, they practically fled to the safety of their spotless luxury sedan.
Their adopted son, named Julian, stayed behind.
He looked from me to his black Maybach, and let out a resigned sigh. “Just ride with me,” he offered.
“There’s a shower at the mine.” I said, my voice flat. “I’ll get changed,”
I went to take a shower without waiting for a reply.
After I’d changed, I slid into the passenger seat of Julian’s car and went to my birth parents’ mansion.
When we arrived, my so-called parents were nowhere to be seen. Instead, I saw a girl about my age approached us. This was Emma, the daughter they had raised, the one who had taken my place
Emma walked up with a smile, took my hand, and said, “I guess I should call you sis, right? Don’t worry, I won’t play the whole ‘real vs. fake daughter’ nonsense. We‘re going to be like real sisters from now on, okay?”
As she said this, shepressed the handle of a small paring knife into my hand and tried to guide my hand to stab her with it.
First meeting, and Emma puts a paring knife in my hand and tries to make me stab her.
Was this some kind of weird family welcome ritual?
Sure, I’m lazy, but I’m not weak. She didn’t budge me an inch.
She gave another hard yank, but it was useless. She blinked those innocent eyes at me, then tried to pull again.
I pointed at the phone hanging around my neck and said flatly, “Vlog footage.”
Emma immediately dropped my hand like it was on fire.
Just then, Julian came in after parking the car. He took in the paring knife in my hand and Emma’s terrified expression. His expression shifted to pure confusion.
I couldn’t be bothered with explaination. I casually placed the knife back into Emma’s hand.
“Hey, you’re back?”
“I asked Mrs. Miller make you some chamomile tea. I’ll go get it now,”
Emma chirped, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness.
“Not hungry,” Julian dismissed then turn to me. “Skylar, are you hungry?”
“Can’t be bothered to eat,” I mumbled, already beeling for the sofa. I collapsed into it, pulled out snacks from my backpack, and started munching.
This is my motto, never stand if you can sit, never sit if you can lie down.
“Rough trip?”
Julian asked with concern.
“Kinda,”
I said around a mouthful of chips, pulled out my tablet, started coding with my left hand, scrolling through videos with my right, and my mouth working on autopilot.
Julian and Emma were staring at me like I’d just beamed down from Mars.
Emma drifted over, pretending to be kind. “Skylar, I know things were … different where you came from. No one taught you proper decorum. It’s a bit embarrassing for the family, honestly. But don’t worry—I’ll teach you etiquette.”
“Can’t be bothered to learn,”
I said through a yawn, then added, “The mine’s pretty busy. Shouldn’t you be rushing off to help your real family?”
I thought since she might want to see her birth parents too, that’s why I came back.
But Emma’s face crumpled. Her eyes instantly welled up. “If you want me to go, I’ll just leave.”
“Whatever,” It was obvious. She played the cool girl about the whole switched-at-birth drama, but she still wanted to compete.
For what?
Money?
Like I cared.
I wanted to tell her I don’t care about money, but I knew she wouldn’t buy it. Nobody would.
So why waste my breath?
Julian sat beside me. “Mom and Dad had to fly to Zurich for a few days. They’ll make it up to you when they’re back. Don’t overthink it.”
“Okay,”
I nodded, I nodded, feeling my spirit already trying to detach from my body.
Julian looked helpless, then turned to Emma. “Is her room ready?”
“It’s almost perfect. I want everything just right for her. Maybe she could stay in the guest room tonight?”
Emma suggested, the picture of consideration.
Julian’s brow furrowed. He wasn’t buying it. “Skylar’s not a guest, she just got back. She shouldn’t stay in a guest room.”
“I get it.” Emma’s voice trembled. “I’m the outsider here now…”
I saw Julian roll his eyes. I wanted to too, but I couldn’t be bothered.
“Any room with a window works for me,”
I said casually.
Julian looked relieved, probably glad I wasn’t making a scene. “Pick any room you like then. Except Mom and Dad’s. I’ll arrange a proper room for you tomorrow.”
Emma put on a wounded expression. “I can handle it.”
Julian ignored her and said to me, “I have got a board meeting this afternoon. If you need anything, wait till I’m back tonight.”
“Okay,”
I replied, still lying on the sofa like a corpse.
Julian shook his head, clearly irritated by my lethargy, and left.
Big shot at the firm, apparently.
The moment he was gone, Emma was all smiles, “Skylar, let me show you the best room. You’ll love it.”
“Sure,”
I grunted, hauling myself up.
If I could’ve just crashed right there on the living room rug, I would have. I really can’t be bothered to move.
I knew Emma was up to something, but I was too tired to care.
Sure enough, she led me to a room on the second floor.
It was pristine, smelling faintly of sandalwood. Everything was meticulously arranged.
The owner was clearly a serious neat freak.
From what I’d seen so far, that person was probably Julian.
And sure enough, I soon saw a photo of him on the desk.
I glanced at Emma. Did she really think I was an idiot?
Emma played dumb. “If you like it, you should rest here.”
“Okay,” I nodded.
I knew it was a trap, but I really couldn’t be bothered to find another room.
I just needed a shower and a horizontal surface.
Emma barely hide her triumohant smirk as she scurried out.
I showered and collapsed on the bed.
When it got dark, I was woken up by a soft deliberate cough. It was Julian.
He stood by the bed in his tailored black suit, expression icy, waiting for an explanation.
Emma hovered beside him, whispering, “I tried to stop her, Jnlian. I told her your… thing, but she wouldn’t listen.”
“Comfortable?”
Julian finally asked after a long slince.
I ‘d expected anger, especially with Emma stirring the pot.
I rubbed my eyes and nodded seriously. “Yeah. The sandalwood helps me sleep.”
“Then stay,” he said, a flicker of surprise in his eyes.
Seems he didn’t expect me to recognize a sleep aid.
Emma looked scandalized. “You never even let me in here before! Why does she get to sleep in your bed?”
“Hungry?”
Julian ignored her and smiled at me.
I nodded. “Don’t wanna move.”
“Okay, I’ll bring it to you,” he said, and left.
Emma wa fuming. “Why? She just got here, and you’re already treating her so well? You’re letting her eat in your bed? With your OCD? Why?”
I didn’t grace that with a response, just pulled out my phone and started watching videos.
She stood there, fuming, but didn’t leave. Probably hoping to witness the grand desecration.
Soon, Julian came back with a rolling cart fitted with a pull-out tray. I just had to sit up to eat.
I dragged myself upright, swished some water in my mouth, and started eating.
Julian settled at his desk to work on his laptop, not even glancing my way.
Emma walked over and picked up a glass of juice from the cart.
I knew her game. “Accidentally” spill it on the bed, blame the messy new girl.
I didn’t know how Julian would react, but if she succeeded, I’d have to change rooms.
And I really, really didn’t want to move.
So I pointed my phone at her, recording.
Emma froze, glass in hand. She forced a smile and handed it to me. “Thirsty, Skylar?”
“Nope,”
I looked over to Julian. He was watching us.
Our eyes met. His were sharp, perceptive.
“Emmadon’t you have your SAT prep? Shouldn’t you be studying?”
Julian’s tone was dismissive.
Her face tightened. Knowing she was being dismissed, she slunk away.
After I finished, the housekeeper came to clean the cart.
I went back to my one-handed coding and video scrolling.
Three hours vanished. I was beat again.
I decided to take a quick shower and back to bed.
Julian finished his work and came over. He placed a small bottle of supplements on the nightstand. “For focus. And memory.”
“Thanks, Julian,”
I eyed him suspiciously. How did he know my brain felt like mush?
But he’d already left the room.
I didn’t pursue it. Showered, took the pills, and was out cold.
For the next few days, I was a ghost, barely leaving the room.
Emma tried to stir up trouble a few times, but never got the chance.
Julian worked in the room every day, but we existed in a comfortable silence.
Then, one morning, my cocoon of blankets was violently ripped away.
I squinted up to find my birth parents were back. My father stood there, holding my duvet.
“What is the meaning of this?” he boomed.
“Skylar, even though Julian is adopted, this is completely inappropriate!”
“If people find out you’re sleeping in your brother’s room right after coming back, how will that look?”
“You’ll ruin the family’s reputation!”
Emma piled on, her voice shrill. “If anyone found out you’re sleeping in your brother’s room… the scandal! You’ll ruin the family’s reputation!”
My mother started her dramatic waterworks. “My own flesh and blood! Acting like this! I can’t bear it!”
My father jabbed a finger at me, “You’re supposed to be studying at your age. What are you thinking? Get up this instant!”
I pulled the comforter back over my head and tapped my phone.
The lights dimmed, and the wall projector lit up.
Security footage played, showing everything from Emma leading me in to the present moment.
I couldn’t be bothered to explain, but I didn’t want to take the fall, either.
My parents shot uneasy glanced at Emma.
But my father doubled down, “Your sister was trying to be hospitable! You should still know better!”
My mother sighed dramatically. “That… common upbringing. No manners, no consideration for others.”
The message was clear. Truth wasn’t the issue; I was.
But if they didn’t like me, why did they insist on bringing me back?
Arguing required energy I didn’t have.
Thankfully, Julian came back and defused the situation.
As they filed out, I heard my father say something nasty, “Remember your place. You’re meant for a business marriage. Ruin your reputation, and you’re worthless.”
I saw Julian’s profile. He looked numb, like he’d heard it all before.
Then, I was summoned for dinner.
At the table, my parents sat with Emma nestled between them, the picture of a perfect family.
Emma was cheerful and knew how to please them.
My parents would shoot me disappointed looks, then beam at Emma with pride, the comparison stark.
Emma suddenly asked, “Skylar, did you even go to school out there in the sticks?”
“Graduated already,”
I said absently.
My father frowned. “You’re the same age as Emma, and she’s still in high school at Brentwood. You’ve graduated? In what?”
“Computer science and welding,”
I answered truthfully.
He slammed his hand on the table. “A daughter of this family, learning a trade like some common laborer? That’s disgraceful!”
My mother sniffed, “Emma is aiming for the Ivy League. You should spend a semester at Brentwood. Even if your grades are hopeless, we can donate a building to get you a diploma.”
“But I already have a degree,”
I wanted to tell them I’d finished MIT’s advanced program years ago and had a job—this was just a pit stop.
But my job is highly classified—I can’t even talk about it.
Plus, explaining was exhausting. So I didn’t.
My father roared and slammed the table again. “How dare you talk back! You start at Brentwood High tomorrow!”
Seriously? They’re sending me back to high school?
If I remember correctly, I’d given a guest lecture at Brentwood a few years back.
I wondered what the principal would say when he saw me enrolled as a student.
Just then, the doorbell chimed.
Guests. A wealthy-looking middle-aged couple and a woman around Julian’s age. She was pretty in a hollow way, pale with sunken eyes.
She looked… unwell.
I noticed Julian’s expression go rigid at the sight of her.
His arranged match, no doubt.
The adults exchanged pleasantries.
The couple clearly doted on Emma.
The young woman’s gaze was locked on Julian, occasionally licking her lips. It was unsettling.
Annoyed I hadn’t stood up, my father frowned. “This is Skylar. She’ll be taking the family name soon. She’s our daughter who was taken years ago.She’s still… adjusting.”
He gestured for me to greet them.
“Uncle. Aunt,” I said flatly.
Emma added fuel to the fire, “Skylar, this is your future sister-in-law, Isabella.”
I looked at the unsettling Isabella, then at Julian’s pale face. I stood up.
Julian’s eyes met mine, a silent plea in them.
I walked over to him, cupped his face in my hands, and kissed him firmly on the lips.
The room froze.
I straightened up, slinging an arm around Julian’s shoulder.
“Let me clarify,” I announced to the stunned room, “Julian, my boyfriend.”
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