chapter 5

My voice was cold.

"I've been gone all afternoon. Only now did you notice?"

There was a sudden silence on the other end.

"Eleanor, it's all my fault. I only played the piano to make you happy. I didn't mean to steal your spotlight. Please don't blame Mom and Dad."

She went straight for that fake guilt, as predictable as ever.

"Stella, you did nothing wrong!" Derek interrupted, trying to sound righteous.

"I don't have time to listen to your little act," I said and hung up, annoyed.

That evening, when I returned home, all four of them were gathered in the living room.

"Eleanor…" Mom stepped toward me, then stopped herself.

I didn't know whether she had meant to scold me or ask if I'd had fun that day.

"I'm tired. We can talk tomorrow." I didn't want to stay and watch them heap praise on Stella while dismissing me.

"Eleanor, please don't be mad at Mom and Dad. I won't play the piano again," Stella said, looking at me with fake sorrow. Her breathing grew heavier as she spoke, deliberately dramatic.

Mom and Dad rushed to help her onto the couch, handing her water, soothing her.

Derek shot to his feet.

"Eleanor! How could you bully your younger sister!"

I looked at him coldly. I hadn't exposed the truth, yet he already forgot who Stella really was.

"When did I ever bully her?" I laughed bitterly.

All I had said was one sentence unrelated to her, and he already accused me of hurting her. Ridiculous.

But Derek didn't see it that way.

Full of self-righteousness, he continued, "You've disliked her from the start!"

When I stayed silent, he pressed harder.

"You're so rude—completely unraised!"

Without hesitation, I slapped him twice, hard. Each strike left a mark, and his face swelled fast.

"Well, you had a mother to raise you, and look what she raised!" I rubbed my sore wrist, voice icy.

Both parents froze, staring at me in shock.

It took Derek a moment to react. He clutched his face, furious.

"Eleanor!"

"Apologize to Derek—now!" Dad barked.

I met his gaze, cold and steady.

"So hitting me is fine, but me hitting back makes me unraised? Your standards for manners are something else."

Dad's anger faltered, like someone had dumped cold water on it—but he still wouldn't back down.

"But he's your brother! How could you hit him? You should learn from Stella—be more obedient, more considerate…"

"Enough." I raised my hand. "I'm not interested in hearing how wonderful Stella is."

Their faces darkened with disappointment, upset that their real daughter could behave so rudely.

Stella stepped forward timidly.

"Eleanor, don't be angry. I'm sorry."

That familiar sweet-and-fake tone made me want to retch.

If I hadn't caught the smugness in her eyes, I might've believed her apology was genuine.

"Stella, you don't need to apologize," Derek said, stepping protectively in front of her.

"Don't worry about her. She's just a mad dog!"

Perfect. My own brother called me a mad dog while defending the fake daughter as if she were a hero.

And the ones who switched us—the people responsible—were Stella's own family.

He knew the truth, yet still turned against me.

"Eleanor," Mom tried again, walking closer. "He's your brother. You two should get along."

"No thanks. A mad dog like me isn't worthy of the Parker family's noble son." I pulled my hand from hers, voice sharp.

"Eleanor!" Dad shouted, his voice echoing through the living room.

I didn't want to argue anymore. I went upstairs and locked myself in my room.

Just six more months. Once I went to college, I could finally leave the Parkers' house.

The next day, Stella insisted on cooking, claiming she wanted to apologize.

Same old trick. In my past life, she had done the exact same thing.

The food itself looked fine. But the kiwi juice she poured me? Mixed with cilantro juice.