###Chapter 5

Kristen's POV

A streak of fresh blood stained the corner of my lips. Michael's eyes flickered, his chest rising and falling in a tense, shallow rhythm.

"Cut the act," he snapped. "Losing your memory doesn't excuse you for bullying Courtney!"

William's face was icy, his tone cutting like a blade. "Mom and Dad aren't even here. Who are you trying to impress with this pathetic performance?"

Before I could say a word, the doctor arrived. Without looking back, Michael pushed past me, clutching Courtney protectively in his arms.

William turned back before leaving, warning me, "Courtney's birthday is coming up. I'm warning you, Kristen. Don't try any stunts. One more slip-up, and you'll regret it."

This was supposed to be my home, my sanctuary. Instead, it felt like a cage, cold and suffocating. I couldn't stay another second.

That night, the housekeeper came and relocated me to a room fit for a prison: moldy, cold, not even a window—just a broken bed and four walls that smelled like rot.

...

At dawn, I walked straight out without looking back.

But fate wasn't done with me yet.

When I stepped outside, a mob of reporters ambushed me like vultures around a carcass.

Cameras. Microphones. Lights. Dozens of them, closing in like a pack of wolves.

I froze, heart pounding in terror.

"Miss Lawson," one sneered, "rumor has it you've been sleeping around and abusing drugs. Got yourself amnesia from partying too hard—care to comment?"

Someone eyed my shabby uniform and sneered. "So the prim-and-proper heiress act was just that? Seems like your family finally saw through you."

Another voice chimed in, sharper, nastier. "We heard you've had multiple abortions. Can't even get pregnant anymore. Is it true you're just a barren, broken little bird now?"

Shame crashed down on me like a tidal wave. My throat closed. I couldn't breathe.

Their words stabbed me, one after another—sharp, merciless, leaving invisible wounds that bled inside my chest.

I couldn't hold back my tears any longer, and they kept falling gently to the ground.

Suddenly, William stormed out, fury radiating from every step.

"You've brought shame to Lawson's name!" he spat.

Then he turned to bark at the staff, "Where are the damn security guards?! Get these paparazzi out of here!"

But the cameras pushed on, relentless.

Just so, a car pulled up at the gate. Michael stepped out, frowning, walking quickly toward us.

He saw me first—pale, trembling, eyes wide with panic—and stepped forward to shield me slightly with his body.

"She doesn't remember anything," he said coldly. "What are you trying to do, harass a trauma patient?"

A woman's voice cut through the noise, smug and bright. "Is she refusing to answer because the rumors are true? Just some drugged-out party slut who slept her way through half the city?"

Cameras surged forward again.

A few reporters even went live, shoving phones and mics directly in my face.

"The once-revered Miss Lawson turns out to be just a cautionary tale. Ladies, don't be like her. You play with fire, and your womb ends up burnt."

I stumbled backward, crushed by shame, retreating behind Michael even as the cameras kept rolling—capturing my humiliation in HD.

Then she appeared.

Courtney, dressed like a fairytale in white chiffon, walked gracefully out into the courtyard.

Like magic, the energy shifted.

Cameras immediately swiveled toward her. The jeers turned to awe.

Michael moved instantly, instinctively, like she was made of glass, wrapping his arm around her and shielding her like she was some precious national treasure.

Gone was the coldness.

He looked almost… protective.

The reporters, now syrupy sweet, cooed at her like she was royalty:

"Now that's a real lady, pure, poised, just the kind of girl who deserves the Lawson name."

"She and Michael look like the perfect couple. You should move up the wedding and make it official!"

Courtney gave them a shy, graceful smile, basking in praise.

The light faded from my eyes. My knees buckled.

A thud came, and I collapsed heavily to the ground.

###Chapter 6

Kristen's POV

Faint voices drifted in and out as I slipped in and out of consciousness.

Somewhere nearby, William's voice pierced through the fog.

"Couldn't you have handled this behind closed doors? Did you really have to make a scene and embarrass our family like that?"

Michael shot back, his tone sharp. "I told you already, it wasn't me who called the reporters. You're the one who staged the whole thing to force Kristen out."

William sounded indignant. "Don't be ridiculous. Sure, my sister has been a problem lately, but she's still a Lawson by blood. You think I'd stoop that low?"

Their performance made me want to laugh. How noble they sounded, pretending to be innocent while standing over the ruins they helped create.

But it didn't matter who made the call.

What mattered was that the cameras had already captured everything they wanted.

From now on, I'd be branded as the town's whore and the disgraced heiress.

They'd torn me down to protect Courtney's delicate image.

And now, here she came, gliding into the room like a porcelain doll with her head bowed just enough to look virtuous.

"Because of what Kristen did," Courtney murmured, voice full of trembling innocence, "people are laughing at me. I'm too ashamed to go outside."

William immediately reached out, gently stroking her hair.

"Don't be upset. I had that custom ruby necklace made just for you. It arrived this morning. Come on, I'll show you."

Hand in hand, they left the room, a perfect picture of harmony that hollowed me out inside.

Through tear-blurred eyes, I caught Michael at my bedside.

"You get it now, don't you?" he said, voice as cold as ice. "That's who you really were, Kristen. And now you're just facing the consequences. If you'd been more like Courtney, maybe you wouldn't be everyone's favorite punching bag."

I said nothing. Just let him rewrite the story in whatever way helped him sleep at night.

Because as long as I was the villain, he could justify marrying his sweet, spotless princess.

A knock sounded.

The butler entered, sneering at my bedraggled face.

"Miss Lawson, Sir William says you're to work off your sins. You've dragged the family name through the mud, and thanks to you, the Lawson stock has tanked."

Michael looked like he wanted to say something, but I was already sitting up.

I didn't wait. Didn't argue.

I got out of bed and went to work.

Cleaning, scrubbing, and dusting every inch of the estate like I wasn't the daughter of the house but just another servant.

Eventually, I made it to William's room.

That's when I saw his phone lying face down on the carpet.

I don't know what made me pick it up.

Maybe curiosity. Maybe desperation.

Then, I typed in Courtney's birthday.

It unlocked instantly.

The lock screen lit up with a picture of William and Courtney, shoulder to shoulder, with her beaming like a flower in bloom. It looked more like a picture of real siblings than anything he ever took with me.

I tapped into the photo gallery.

There were thousands of images.

All of them were William, Courtney, and Michael.

Trips. Birthdays. Dinners.

Even casual selfies at home.

In one video, Michael stood in the kitchen with a pink Barbie cake he'd made himself. He smeared a bit of frosting on Courtney's nose, laughing softly.

In the background, William held a sparkly plastic crown and cooed, "My baby sister's going to be the happiest princess in the world."

Every picture from my childhood, from our vacations, our school days, the movies we watched huddled on the couch together, and everything he once promised to treasure forever was all in the trash folder.

Gone.

Tears blurred my vision. I thought I'd already cried myself dry.

How did we go from being inseparable siblings… to this?

Just then, I tapped a folder I hadn't noticed before.

Inside was a document.

It was a kidney transplant agreement.

My stomach twisted as I read the names:

[The recipient: William Lawson]

[The donor: Courtney Lawson]

My eyes widened in disbelief.