Blurb：
Sophie Mendoza knows the script. The live comments reveal she’s the scheming supporting female lead destined for a gruesome fate at the hands of the heroine, Vivian Rothschild. But this time, Sophie is reborn—and prepared. When billionaire parents arrive at St. Mary’s Orphanage seeking their long-lost daughter, Sophie seizes her chance. Branding the identical birthmark onto her skin, she claims the heiress’s identity before Vivian can. As Vivian unravels, screaming about lobster dinners and a $300 million allowance, Sophie plays the innocent victim. In this dark tale of identity theft and revenge, who will emerge as the true Rothschild heiress? Dive into a world of twisted fates, billionaire dynasties, and a deadly game where only one survives.
Content：
My name is Sophie Mendoza. The live comments say I’m the scheming supporting female lead.
Standing at the entrance of St. Mary’s Orphanage, a couple approached me for information,
Is there a girl named Vivian here? About your age, with big eyes like yours…
They paused mid-sentence as I saw flashing text appear in the sky,
[Here we go! The billionaire parents arriving at the orphanage – at the point were the heroine’s rebirth! The heroine’s about to become the real heiress again!]
[I can’t stand the supporting female lead! In the previous life, the billionaire discovered the heroine was his long-lost daughter through her birthmark! But because the supporting female lead acted so sweetly in front of him, they ended up adopting her too!]
[Thankfully our heroine is smart. Realizing how much the billionaire couple liked the supporting female lead.
she started spreading rumors, framing her, even setting her up to seduce her brother, making the couple completely lose faith in her!]
[In the end, the heroine even sold the fake heiress at a Monte Carlo yacht auction for a hundred million dollars to some creep who collects specimens of people with amputated limbs! The supporting female lead was tortured to death in the end. Heh, what a satisfying ending!]
[Too bad the heroine later discovered she had heart failure, and the only match was the dead supporting female lead. But it’s fine, she’s reborn now. This time, she won’t just stop her billionaire parents from taking the supporting female lead, she’ll take her heart and thrive alone!]
I paused, pretending to adjust my ragged clothes.
I deliberately revealed the birthmark on my shoulder.
The exact same birthmark their daughter had.
This time around, who ends up dying painfully… well, that’s up for debate!
…
The couple’s pupils dilated when they saw the birthmark on my shoulder.
The woman covered her mouth, tears splashing onto her handkerchief.
The man staggered forward, pulling me into a tight embrace,
“Vivian… my daughter… It’s Mom and Dad… We’ve been looking for you…”
The woman’s nails dug into my back, the pain making me tremble, but I kept a clueless expression.
Just as the butler opened the car door, hurried footsteps sounded behind us.
“Wait!”
Vivian Rothschild appeared, wearing a faded school uniform, her braid crooked, clutching half a biscuit.
“You can’t take her! I’m your daughter!”
She rushed up to me, jabbing a finger at my birthmark.
“It’s fake! Painted on with lipstick! I’m Vivian!”
Text flashed across the sky again,
[Same as last life! The supporting female lead acted sweet to get adopted, forcing the heroine to eliminate her later for survival!]
[But how dare she this time? Faking a birthmark to steal the heroine’s identity outright? Being the adopted daughter wasn’t enough, now she wants to be the cuckoo in the nest?]
[Go on, heroine! Put her in her place! Show her who the real heiress is!]
I shrank behind the man, crying softly.
“Big sister… I didn’t paint it… Sister Agnes said it doesn’t come off…”
It really wasn’t painted.
Three months ago, right after I woke up reborn, my first act was to heat a metal spoon red-hot and brand the identical mark onto my collarbone.
Every day since, I rubbed the healing edges with ash.
Three months.
Plenty of time for it to scar over and look old.
Vivian grew even more frantic, shoving me.
“You’re lying! You’re fake! Last time you pressured my parents into adopting you, now you’re trying to impersonate me!”
She turned to the billionaire couple, her eyes burning brightly.
“Mom! Dad! What are you waiting for? Take me home! Now!”
“I can’t stand this wretched life anymore! I want the mansion, the lobster dinners! Why were you two so slow? Do you know how hard it’s been? If you don’t give me three hundred million dollars in allowance, I won’t even acknowledge you!”
I lowered my head, clenching my fists to suppress a smile.
Vivian probably thought her outburst would make them realize she was the real heiress.
But the couple find me first.
The first impression matters immensely!
The man’s brow furrowed instantly, his hand reflexively moving to cover his diamond-studded watch.
The woman took out a silk handkerchief, gently dabbing my reddened arm where Vivian had pushed me, then ushered me into the back seat.
“Mr. Henderson, drive.”
Vivian froze.
The live comments seemed equally stunned.
But Vivian snapped back quickly, grabbing the car door handle, her grimy nails digging into the leather upholstery.
“I am your daughter! Why won’t you believe me?”
“Look! Look at this!”
She frantically pulled a crumpled candy wrapper from her pocket.
“This is from the candy Dad bought me when I was little! Remember?”
I burst into loud, dramatic sobs, clinging desperately to the billionaire’s leg.
“Daddy, I’m scared… Why is she lying…? That’s just the candy Sister Agnes gave everyone last week… All the kids got one…”
The billionaire kicked Vivian’s hand away.
“Security! Get this crazy kid away from the car!”
As the car pulled away, I glanced back at Vivian’s shrinking figure.
Perfectly satisfied.
So what if she’s the heroine!
This time.
The one who seized the initiative.
Is me!
Outside the Rothschild mansion.
Mrs. Rothschild held my hand, her pearl bracelet gleaming coldly in the sunlight.
Her voice was honey-sweet.
“Don’t be scared, Vivian. This is our home. Don’t you remember?”
The screech of brakes drowned out my reply.
A black Maybach swerved, stopping diagonally across the driveway.
The window lowered, revealing an impossibly handsome face.
A boy in the familiar prep school uniform, his tie loose around his neck.
His gaze skipped over my worn-out shoes, landing precisely on my shoulder where the birthmark was.
“Dad, Mom. Did you just pick up a stray cat?”
“I’ve seen the orphanage records. Besides the shoulder birthmark, our sister has a mole behind her right ear.”
Live comments exploded in front of my eyes,
[Big brother’s awesomely smart! Called out the fake heiress immediately!]
[The supporting female lead has no mole! She’s finished! The heroine’s mole is heart-shaped! No way she’d know that!]
How could I not know?
I knew it perfectly well!
But I couldn’t be bothered to fake another one.
The shoulder birthmark was enough.
I clutched my clothes, forcing a timid expression.
Mrs. Rothschild smoothed things over with a laugh,
“Alexander, don’t scare your sister. This is Vivian. How could Mom and Dad mistake their own child? She told us so many things from her childhood on the ride.”
“Now, get out of the car and come inside.”
She turned to reassure me.
“Don’t be scared, Vivian. Your brother just needs time to recognize you. So many people tried to impersonate you over the years, he’s just cautious. He doesn’t really dislike you.”
I nodded nervously, but my peripheral vision locked onto Alexander Rothschild.
A similar scene played out in my past life memories.
It was so long ago, I almost thought…
Alexander might be reborn too.
That…
would be very interesting.
Alexander walked over.
As the silver cufflink on his school blazer brushed past my ear, I deliberately flinched away, my voice trembling like a leaf.
“Big brother… still doesn’t recognize Vivian?”
“But I still remember… how I always clung to your shirt when I was little… Don’t you remember?”
Suddenly, he reached out, pinching my chin, his knuckles digging painfully into my jawbone.
“Then tell me, on my sixth birthday, who did you smash the cake into?”
My gaze drifted to the silver chain peeking from Alexander’s collar.
A gift Vivian bought him with her allowance before she disappeared, for his sixteenth birthday.
In the past life, Vivian often bragged about how much Alexander doted on her, his real sister.
But.
This time, Alexander the devoted brother.
Would be devoted to me, not her.
I focused, answering haltingly.
“It was… it was smashed onto… Old Lady Peterson’s German Shepherd.”
I cried, sounding utterly wronged.
“You kept trying to steal my strawberry shortcake… I got so mad… I dumped what was left on the dog’s head.”
Alexander’s fingers tightened, then abruptly released.
His Adam’s apple bobbed.
“Guess you didn’t forget.”
The live comments instantly lost it.
[That’s it??? Alexander believes her? Why not ask more? Keep asking and she’d slip up!]
[But how does the supporting female lead know that?]
[Probably wheedled it out of the heroine! How calculating! Preparing so early to steal her parents!]
[She won’t be happy for long! Once the heroine finds her way back, she’ll expose the fake!]
Really?
But even if she came back and exposed me, so what?
In the past life, she only won because she had her parents’ and brother’s love.
This time, she’d already lost her chance.
Besides.
They chose to take me.
Couldn’t blame me for that.
But I needed to act fast.
Fast to win the family’s affection.
Fast to become indispensable.
Mrs. Rothschild took my hand.
“Let’s go inside thew house, it’s windy today.”
Her tone held a hint of reproach when she addressed Alexander.
“Honestly, Alexander. Can’t you be gentle with your sister?”
He would be.
Alexander would shower this lost-and-found sister with guilt-fueled adoration.
Just like last time.
Only now, it was me – obedient, sensible, knowing my place.
The light from the crystal chandelier fell on bone china plates.
Mrs. Henderson brought out steaming cream of mushroom soup.
Alexander stirred his soup with a silver spoon, suddenly looking at me.
“I heard you learned to paint at the orphanage? Vivian loved drawing kittens. Can you?”
My hand holding the spoon trembled slightly, a brown droplet staining the rim.
[Here it comes! Another test! The copycat’s going to be exposed!]
[She definitely can’t! The heroine’s cat drawings are unique!]
Mrs. Rothschild looked displeased.
“Alexander, enough! Do you think we’d mistake our own child?”
“Let Vivian eat in peace. She just got home.”
Alexander didn’t press further, slowly cutting his steak.
I sipped my soup quietly, aware of his sideways glances, still assessing.
Too bad for the comments and Alexander.
I’d spent years in the Rothschild house last time.
I’d learned everything Vivian could do, liked, or disliked.
After dinner, I pulled a sketchbook from my cloth bag, handing it to Alexander.
“Big brother, is this what you wanted to see?”
Inside were drawings of lopsided kittens, each with an absurdly long tail.
Alexander paused while flipping through, his fingers tracing the rough paper.
He didn’t ask anything else, closed the book, and handed it back.
“Tomorrow, I’ll take you to buy new art supplies.”
The comments imploded.
[????? He believes her? Just because of some drawings? She got lucky!]
[Nooo! Big brother’s falling for the fake! The heroine will be heartbroken!]
[And the billionaire parents! Not only mistaking their daughter, but letting guards keep the heroine in the orphanage? How’s she supposed to live?]
I raised an eyebrow.
An unexpected bonus.
But I wanted more.
Much more.
When the Rothschild’s family grew even fonder of me.
When the real Vivian returned.
That’s when the real revenge game would begin.
After that, Alexander seemed to drop his suspicions.
He fully embraced his role as the doting brother.
The Rothschilds also treated me like a treasure, showering me with six-figure allowances and designer gowns without hesitation.
But that’s not what I wanted.
Businessmen value profit.
Relying solely on affection and acting spoiled was Vivian’s style.
I wasn’t her.
I used part of my allowance to hire someone to watch Vivian, preventing her from suddenly showing up.
I enrolled in countless self-improvement courses.
Days passed, and I successfully became the Rothschilds’ beloved princess.
But the inevitable arrived.
On my 18th birthday, Alexander drove me to buy a cake.
A girl carrying a trash bag rushed from a street corner, her ill-fitting uniform stained with grease.
When she looked up, I couldn’t help but smile.
Life hadn’t been kind to Vivian since being kicked out of the orphanage.
She’d tried breaking into the estate.
But got stopped at the gate.
Security thought she was a scammer.
No entry.
She wandered, desperate for shelter.
Ran into a drunk hoodlum.
She latched onto him, following him home.
The cost?
Rumor was, the hoodlum treated her like a child bride.
Free maid.
Who’d refuse?
Couldn’t blame me.
Her own choices.
Vivian froze when she saw Alexander, lips moving, but her words were drowned by a passing truck’s horn.
I smiled, tugging Alexander’s sleeve.
“Big brother, that girl across the street keeps staring at you.”
“Does she know you?”
Alexander didn’t even glance, ruffling my hair instead.
“Never mind. I need to get the princess home.”
“Or the cake will melt, and someone will cry.”
I smirked, watching Vivian shrink in the rear mirror.
She’d be home soon enough.
At the party, Mr. Rothschild slid contracts towards associates, bragging about my jewelry designs.
“Sophie’s ‘Teardrop’ collection landed five endorsements in three months, profits up 40%. No one’s broken that record at our company in years.”
“Sophie is heaven-sent. She’s the jewel of our family!”
Alexander suddenly smeared frosting on my nose, sounding annoyed.
“Our jewel needs rest too.”
“Last time Sophie pulled an all-nighter editing designs, she spiked a fever. Took me three days nursing her back to health.”
I dabbed frosting onto his shirt.
“Only because you had my back, big brother.”
I smiled past Alexander, spotting Mrs. Henderson across the room.
She was putting away an old photo of Vivian I’d deliberately left on the coffee table into a drawer.
Fair enough.
The house was plastered with my photos now.
One picture of her at age five?
Hardly noticeable.
As for its subject.
Time for a relocation.
The day after my birthday, I invited Alexander for a ride at the country club stables.
Vivian, bored with the hoodlum, often lurked there, trying to catch a rich boy’s eye.
Alexander led his horse ahead. As I urged mine forward, I saw Vivian glaring through the fence.
Perfect.
Hooked.
On the way back, I had Alexander drive slowly. Sure enough, just leaving the stables, Vivian rushed out, blocking the car.
“Big brother! I’m Vivian!”
A grade school commemorative pin was still clipped to her collar.
I’d conveniently ‘lost’ that near the hoodlum’s place last week.
Comments exploded,
[Finally! Our girl tried so many times to reach big brother, but guards always blocked her! Finally sees him again!]
[Fake heiress, your days are numbered!]
[Alexander, recognize your sister! Stop falling for the fake!!]
I leaned out the window, my birthmark red under the streetlight.
“Big sister, are you mistaken?”
Vivian stared daggers at me, clearly wanting to strangle me.
But she knew this wasn’t the time.
She ran to Alexander.
“Big brother, don’t you remember me? You stole my cotton candy, I pushed you into the pool! We pinky swore never to tell anyone! I’m your real sister!”
“She’s the fake! She’s Sophie Mendoza! Not me!”
I looked up at Alexander, tears perfectly timed.
“She says she’s your real sister.”
“Then big brother… who am I?”
Alexander’s coffee cup slipped, brown liquid splattering his loafers.
He stared at me, then at the sobbing Vivian, swallowing hard. No words came out.
Vivian stormed into the house, rushing to Mr. Rothschild.
“Daddy! I’m your daughter! Couldn’t tell when I was little? Look at me now! I look just like you! I’m Vivian!”
“She’s Sophie! A con artist from the orphanage! If you don’t believe me, get a DNA test!”
She turned, glaring venomously at me.
“If I am your child, Mommy, Daddy… can you get rid of this little bitch for me? I want her to suffer everything I did!”
I shrank behind Alexander, feigning sorrow.
“Mommy, Daddy, I’ll do whatever you say.”
“If a test makes big sister feel better, I’m not afraid of the pain.”
I lowered my eyes, hiding my smile.
Keep talking, Vivian.
The more you rant.
The more uncomfortable it is… for your parents.
After all, they chose me. They abandoned you.
Mr. Rothschild’s face darkened as he pushed Vivian away.
“Where did this mad girl come from!”
“Butler, take this… girl to a guest room. She’s not to roam the house without permission.”
Vivian snapped.
She shrieked, lunging at me, voice dripping with venom.
“It’s you! You faked the birthmark to replace me! Sophie, I’ll kill you!”
Her nails nearly grazed my face. Alexander suddenly thrust his hand between us. Her nails gouged deep into his palm.
“Enough!”
He shoved her hand away, scowling.
“Get the test tomorrow. But until those results are in, you lay one finger on her again? I’ll make you regret showing your face!”
I glanced at Mrs. Rothschild. Silent throughout, but tears welled in her eyes as she looked at Vivian.
They knew.
Vivian, though thin and ragged, bore an uncanny resemblance to them.
My face? Refined, polished. Far beyond Vivian’s reach.
That’s why I ‘invited’ her home.
This game needed players.
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