Chapter 1

I donated a kidney to my "biological" younger brother. But the very next day after the surgery, he died from acute organ rejection.

Before I could even process the grief, a DNA test report was slammed into my face.

With bloodshot eyes, my adoptive mother pointed a trembling finger at me. "You’re not even my daughter! It was you! You're an impostor, and your cursed bad luck killed my son!"

"Get out of this house! Nothing here belongs to you! I'm giving you fifteen thousand dollars—consider that payment for your damn kidney!"

"If you ever dare set foot in this house again, I will ruin you completely!"

Clutching my stitched-up side, I dragged my broken body out the door.

Three years later, they tracked me down. Holding a mentally disabled girl, they begged on their knees, crying for me to come back.

"Chloe, this is our real daughter who went missing years ago. Please, we beg you, come back! Only your bone marrow can save her!"

The surgical incision burned with a dull, throbbing pain as two burly bodyguards dragged me by the arms and hurled me out the villa’s wrought-iron gates.

Freezing rain pelted my face, blending with the tears streaming down my cheeks.

I clutched a check for fifteen thousand dollars in my hand. It felt featherlight. Like a sick joke.

Twenty years of being raised as their own, plus a vital organ, boiled down to fifteen grand.

My name is Chloe. Today is my twenty-second birthday, and it's also the day I was discarded like trash.

Just three days ago, I was the pampered princess of the Vance family.

My father, Arthur Vance, was the CEO of a publicly traded corporation. My mother, Eleanor Vance, was a renowned painter.

I also had a younger brother, Leo Vance, who had been frail and sickly since childhood.

For his sake, Eleanor gave up her art studio, and Arthur canceled countless business galas.

As for me, I was conditioned from a young age to pamper and protect Leo.

Whatever he wanted, I had to hand over.

My toys, my snacks, even my bedroom.

A month ago, Leo suffered complete renal failure. His condition turned critical, and he desperately needed an immediate kidney transplant.

Every single family member failed the cross-match. Only I was a perfect match.

Arthur had stroked my hair, his voice gentler than I had ever heard it before. "Chloe, Dad knows this is a massive sacrifice to ask of you. But Leo is your only brother."

Eleanor gripped my hands, tears spilling down her cheeks in heavy drops. "Chloe, please, Mom is begging you. Save Leo. Mom can't live without him."

I barely hesitated.

"I’ll do it."

The surgery went smoothly. When they wheeled me out of the operating room, I saw my parents standing with Leo’s lead surgeon, their faces glowing with immense relief.

I genuinely believed our family would finally be whole.

Yet what followed wasn't news of my brother’s recovery. It was acute, violent organ rejection. Emergency resuscitation failed. He was gone.

And then came that DNA paternity test.

The document stated in stark black and white: I, Chloe, had zero biological relation to Arthur and Eleanor Vance.

Eleanor lunged at me like a madwoman, yanking my hair and spewing venomous curses.

"You jinx! It’s all your fault! You killed my Leo!"

"The Vance family raised you for twenty-two years, and this is how you repay us? You ungrateful stray!"

Arthur stood to the side, his eyes chillingly indifferent.

With a flick of his wrist, he signaled the private security guards to toss every single one of my belongings out into the storm.

"Take this fifteen grand and get lost. Don't ever show your face in front of us again."

I stared at him, desperately searching his face for even a sliver of regret or hesitation.

There was none.

Not an ounce.

Twenty-two years of father-daughter devotion meant nothing to him. To him, it was just a transaction that could be terminated at will.

The downpour grew heavier. Soaked to the skin, the agony around my fresh incision made it impossible to stay upright.

I lifted my head to look back at the brightly lit mansion. That place had once been my home.

Now, I was just an impostor with nowhere to go.

Using that fifteen thousand dollars, I rented a damp, dark basement studio near the medical center.

My post-op recovery was brutally slow. Medication and follow-up lab visits alone consumed a massive portion of the money.

Terrified of running dry, I restricted myself to one meager meal a day, chewing on plain bread and gulping tap water.

I tried finding work, but no employer wanted someone freshly out of major surgery who looked as pale and frail as a ghost.

Desperate, I called my best friend, hoping to borrow some money to get by.

The moment the call connected, her voice snapped through the speaker, dripping with disgust. "Chloe? You actually have the nerve to call me? Do you have any idea how much my family's stock dropped because of you?"

I froze.

"What do you mean?"