Part 2They Abandoned Me for My Pretty Sister. Then They Saw My Face.

Sarah replied almost immediately.

"Got it. You have a beautiful name."

I politely replied, "Thank you. My grandmother gave it to me."

My parents had given me a childhood nickname instead.

Bounce.

They said it was cute and easy to remember.

Then, almost as soon as I was born, they bounced me off to my grandmother in the countryside.

When I was six, it was time for me to start elementary school.

That meant I needed a proper legal name, the kind that would go on my records and follow me for the rest of my life.

Grandma called my parents several times.

Every time, they gave her the same answer.

"We know. We're thinking about it."

"We're both busy auditioning for roles and traveling for concerts."

"It's just a name. Why are you in such a hurry?"

One month passed.

Then another.

By the time the school year was about to begin, Grandma was worried I'd miss enrollment and end up starting school a year late.

So she made the decision herself.

She named me Skye Brooks.

"My sweet girl, Grandma doesn't need you to become rich or famous."

"I just want you to grow up free, with the whole sky ahead of you."

Even at that young age, I understood something.

If I was nothing more than Bounce to my parents, something they could simply send bouncing from one place to another, then I didn't want that to be the only thing my name meant.

So I chose to become Skye Brooks, a name carrying all the love and blessing my grandmother had given me.

Not the daughter someone had forgotten in a corner.

A knock came at the door.

"Miss, dinner's ready."

The housekeeper knew perfectly well that I was my parents' daughter too.

Yet Vivian was called Miss Vivian.

I was simply Miss.

I didn't know whether that came directly from my parents or whether the staff had simply learned who mattered more in this house.

Thankfully, I already understood that this had never been my home.

I'd never expected it to be.

Still, when I walked downstairs, even behind my sunglasses, I couldn't help but stare at what I saw.

The living room was filled with clothing racks.

Row after row of elegant dresses hung neatly in place, with exquisite fabrics, intricate cuts, and flowing skirts that looked as though they had been chosen for a red carpet.

Matching heels were arranged nearby.

Several stylists and members of a brand team were busy preparing everything.

One person adjusted Vivian's dress.

Another checked tomorrow's styling plan.

Someone else laid out jewelry piece by piece for her to choose from.

It was obvious that all of this was for tomorrow night's birthday celebration.

It wasn't an ordinary family gathering.

It was a private charity gala with members of the press in attendance.

For Vivian, it was another opportunity to appear publicly as the family's perfect daughter.

And I was nothing more than a stranger they had suddenly brought home.

When Dad noticed me standing on the stairs, a flicker of embarrassment crossed his face.

His eyes traveled from my hair to my shoes, then finally settled on my face.

He looked almost as if he were assessing a potential threat to tomorrow's photographs.

"Tomorrow's gala will be covered by the press," Dad said. "The official guest materials have already gone out, and they introduce Vivian as our daughter."

I waited for him to continue.

"We're not changing everything at the last minute. If anyone asks who you are, say you're a relative staying with us before college. Don't call us Mom and Dad in front of the cameras."

Mom glanced toward the stylists before lowering her voice.

"People will start digging into the past if they find out about you. They'll want to know why you were raised somewhere else, and this family doesn't need that kind of story spreading before Vivian's debut."

"So you want me to lie about being your daughter."

Dad's expression hardened.

"We're asking you not to create unnecessary trouble. You've lived without using our name for eighteen years. One more night shouldn't be difficult."

Dad looked at my jeans and T-shirt again.

"You still need something appropriate in case a guest sees you inside the house. Vivian can give you one of her older dresses."

"She can't wear mine," Vivian said quickly. "The waist would never fit her."

Dad glanced at me as though I were the inconvenience.

"Then find something loose. She only needs to look presentable enough that no one asks questions."

I nodded.

"Okay."

Then I went back upstairs without taking any of Vivian's clothes.

My suitcase remained beside the bed.

The zipper hadn't been opened once.

My phone lit up with a reminder from my academic advisor.

"Your early move-in request has been registered. Remember to bring the required documents."

The press release called Vivian their only daughter. Tomorrow, if anyone asked, I was supposed to call my own parents Mr. and Mrs. Brooks.

I looked at the date on the message.

Three more days. After that, they would never have to explain who I was again.