“What?” Katherine had barely gotten the word out before the crowd of reporters swallowed her whole, none of them waiting for an answer. The world exploded into blinding white flashes.

They swarmed from every shadow, microphones thrust forward like weapons while security guards fought to hold the line.

“Miss Hart!”

“Miss Hart, is it true you’ve been pretending to be the Hart family’s daughter for over thirteen years?”

“Were you aware Joanna Johnson is Richard Hart’s biological daughter?”

“Did you know you were living someone else’s life? Did you plan it?”

Katherine froze mid-step, her heart slamming against her ribs. For one disoriented second she was certain they had the wrong person.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice came out small, trembling. “I think you’ve confused me with…”

The crowd only pressed closer.

“Why did you hide Joanna Johnson’s identity?”

“Is Mr. Stan ending the engagement because he found out the truth?” Had the reporters already learned about the broken engagement? Or had someone told them before she’d even known herself?

“Is Joanna carrying Mr. Stan’s child?”

“Do you have anything to say to the woman whose family and inheritance you’ve stolen?”

Each question landed like a knife. Katherine’s knees weakened. She had never heard the name Joanna Johnson until tonight, until Soron’s phone, until his voice had gone soft for another woman and her baby.

“What are you talking about?” she whispered, tears already stinging her eyes. “I’ve stolen nothing. This is a mistake…”

A reporter shoved a phone inches from her face. The glowing screen showed a headline in screaming capital letters:

THE REAL HART HEIRESS FOUND

Side by side, two photos stared back at her. One was hers, elegant, smiling at last month’s gala. The other was a stranger who shared her eyes, her jawline, her everything.

“No…” The word broke in her throat. The questions turned into a roar.

“Did you always know you weren’t Richard Hart’s biological daughter? Was it a scheme? Did you plan it alone, or were others involved?”

“When did Mr. Stan discover the truth?”

“Did he leave you because Joanna is pregnant?”

Fraud. Impostor. Stolen life. The words stabbed deeper with every repetition. Katherine’s chest heaved, her whole world crumbling in front of the cameras.

“I don’t know!” she cried, her voice cracking. “I don’t know anything!”

Security finally carved a path through. Her driver caught her arm and shoved her into the back seat. “This way, Miss!”

The car peeled away from the curb, reporters still chasing, camera flashes strobing against the tinted windows.

Inside, Katherine shook so hard her teeth chattered. She grabbed her phone with numb fingers and started dialing.

Amelia. No answer.

Richard. Straight to voicemail.

Soron. His number went dead instantly. Blocked.

The Hart residence, again and again. Nothing.

Dread coiled tighter in her stomach with every failed call.

On the tenth attempt, the line finally clicked.

“Mom?” Relief flooded her voice. But Amelia wasn’t speaking to her.

“Katherine isn’t my daughter?”

The words sliced through the receiver, raw and disbelieving.

Amelia’s voice trembled. “What did you say?”

A pause. “No…”

Then, in a broken whisper that finished what was left of Katherine’s heart: “Where is my daughter? My real daughter…”

The phone slipped from Katherine’s hand and hit the floor.

Everything went quiet. The city lights outside blurred into streaks of color. Soron’s voice echoed in her mind, is the baby okay, followed by his cold, final words to her face. The pieces slammed together with brutal clarity.

He had found her. The real heiress. He had fallen for her, and now she carried his child.

A bitter, broken laugh tore from Katherine’s lips even as hot tears poured down her cheeks.

“So that’s why…”

She had never been enough, because none of it had ever truly been hers. Not the family. Not the love. Not even the name she’d worn so proudly. Her hand reached for the door.

“Miss Katherine!” the driver shouted as the car slowed.

She didn’t hear him. She shoved the door open before the car had fully stopped and stumbled into the street, the night air cold against her wet face. Memories flashed: birthday parties, family portraits, Soron’s rare smiles, all of them belonging to a ghost named Joanna.

She took another stumbling step. A horn blared, deafening. Headlights blinded her, and only then did she realize she had wandered into the street.

The impact was violent. Metal slammed into her side, launching her into the air. She hit the windshield, glass cracking beneath her like brittle ice. For one suspended heartbeat she felt weightless, then she was tumbling over the roof and down onto the pavement.

Pain ripped through every nerve. Warm blood trickled across her forehead and into her eyes.

Footsteps pounded toward her. Was this it? Did the fake heiress meet her end here, in the street?

Then a voice cut through the chaos, deep and raw and desperate.

“Katherine!”

It was a man’s voice she had never heard before, and yet it carried a grief so profound that her shattered heart twisted with an ache deeper than the pain in her body. Who was he? Why did his sorrow feel so familiar?

She wanted to open her eyes. She wanted to reach for that voice.

But the darkness swallowed her whole.

Pain. That was the first thing Katherine braced for.

The screech of tires, the impact, her body slamming against cold asphalt- it had all stayed so vivid that when consciousness returned, she instinctively braced for agony. Her hands flew to her chest, her ribs, her stomach, searching for shattered bone and blood-soaked bandages.

There was nothing. Not a single injury.

Her breathing quickened. She pushed herself upright so fast the blanket slid off her lap. Apart from a lingering weakness in her limbs, her body felt normal.

The room around her was quiet, washed in soft morning light. A small hospital room. White curtains swayed beside an open window, carrying the scent of fresh rain instead of disinfectant. A heart monitor beeped steadily in the silence.

Before she could make sense of any of it, the door opened. “Oh, you’re awake!”

A nurse hurried in, relieved. “You gave everyone quite a scare. Your fever finally broke.”

Fever? Katherine stared at her blankly.

The nurse checked the monitor, talking as she worked. “You’ve been unconscious for a full day. Your mother’s been calling every few hours for updates. I imagine she’ll finally sleep tonight.”

Katherine frowned. “I’m sorry. What did you just say?”

The nurse looked puzzled. “Your fever?”

“No.” Katherine shook her head. “Before that.”

“That you’ve been unconscious?”

“No.” She gripped the blanket tighter. “I was hit by a car.”

The cheerful air in the room disappeared.

The nurse’s smile faltered. “…Excuse me?”

“A car, a truck, something.” Katherine’s voice climbed, urgent now. “I remember the accident. I remember the headlights. I remember…” Her breathing turned uneven. “Where’s the surgeon? Was anyone else hurt? How long have I been here?”

The nurse didn’t answer. She pressed the call button beside the bed instead.

Within minutes a doctor arrived, another nurse close behind. They examined her carefully, asked gentle questions. What was her name. Did she know where she was. What day did she think it was.

Every answer she gave only deepened the concern on their faces.

“There’s no sign of physical trauma,” the doctor finally said. “Miss Hart, you were admitted for a severe viral fever. You’ve never had surgery.”

“That’s impossible.”

“It’s what’s recorded.”

“I was hit by a car.”

“There are no police reports of it.”

“My family…”

“A friend brought you in. Your fever wouldn’t come down.”

Katherine looked from face to face, searching for someone who would admit this was all a misunderstanding.

No one did. Eventually the doctor suggested she rest, and led the nurses out, closing the door behind them.

Silence swallowed the room. Katherine sat motionless, her pulse hammering.

Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. Her eyes drifted to the bedside table.

A phone sat beside a glass of water. She reached for it almost without thinking. It felt strangely familiar. Too familiar. When the screen lit up, her fingers went still.

It wasn’t her current wallpaper. It was an old photo, one she’d used years ago, before she changed it after graduation.

Her throat tightened. She tried the current passcode. It failed. She tried an old one instead, one she hadn’t used in years, and the phone unlocked.

Every message was old. Every contact belonged to another version of her life. Conversations she’d forgotten filled the screen.

People she hadn’t spoken to in years were still chatting as though nothing had happened. Her pulse quickened.

“This…” She opened her social media.

Old profile pictures. Old posts. Unfinished university assignments still sat in her drafts.

Her breathing went shallow. “No…”

The phone buzzed in her hand. Mom Calling. Her heart nearly stopped. With trembling fingers, she answered.

“Katherine!”

Amelia’s voice burst through the speaker, so full of energy that Katherine nearly dropped the phone.

“You finally answered! Do you know how worried you made everyone? I told you that fever wasn’t normal.” Katherine couldn’t speak. She closed her eyes.

The last time she’d heard this voice, it had been broken, exhausted, filled with a grief that had almost curdled into hate. Now Amelia sounded years younger. Happy. Completely unaware that anything terrible had ever happened.

“Katherine?” Amelia laughed softly. “Don’t tell me you’re still half asleep.”

“M… Mom?”

“What is it?”

Katherine swallowed hard. “You…” Her voice cracked. “You sound…”

“I sound what?”

“…Fine.” There was a brief silence before Amelia laughed again.

“What an odd thing to say.” She kept talking, oblivious. “Anyway, don’t stay in the hospital longer than you need to. Your birthday’s only a few days away, and you promised you’d come home.”

Birthday.

The word echoed inside Katherine’s mind.

“I’ve already told Richard to arrange dinner,” Amelia went on happily. “He wants you to meet an old friend’s son. Apparently they’ve been trying to introduce you for months.”

Katherine wasn’t listening anymore. “His name is Soron Stan.”

The phone slipped from Katherine’s hand and struck the floor with a sharp crack.

She grabbed it back with trembling fingers and opened the calendar. The date on the screen refused to make sense.

June 18th. Four years earlier. Exactly four years before the night she died.

She stared at it until her vision blurred. She hadn’t met Soron yet. Joanna hadn’t appeared yet. She hadn’t been declared the fake heiress. She hadn’t died.

None of it had happened yet.

A violent shiver ran through her as one impossible truth settled into her heart.

She had come back.

Four years too soon.

The hospital room remained unnaturally quiet after Amelia ended the call. Katherine sat motionless against the headboard, her eyes fixed on the calendar displayed on her phone. No matter how many times she refreshed the screen or reopened the application, the date never changed. Four years. She had returned four years before everything fell apart, yet her mind stubbornly refused to believe what her eyes were seeing. There had to be another explanation. Dreams felt real. Hallucinations felt real. Perhaps this was simply her dying mind refusing to let go.

She reached for her laptop the moment the nurse returned with her belongings. The machine took longer to boot than she remembered, the outdated software reminding her once again that this truly belonged to another time. Katherine ignored the growing knot in her chest and immediately opened a browser. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard for only a second before she typed the name that had haunted her final moments.

Soron Stan. Hundreds of business articles appeared on the screen. Most praised the rapid expansion of Stan Holdings under the leadership of the Stan family, while others discussed upcoming investment projects and charity partnerships. Katherine clicked through article after article, searching for photographs, interviews, or anything that mentioned an engagement.

There was nothing.

No wedding announcement. No articles about her No photographs of Soron standing beside her with a diamond ring on her finger.

She closed the final page and leaned back slowly. Of course there wasn't. They hadn't even met yet.

A strange sense of relief settled over her before another name forced its way into her thoughts.

Joanna.

Katherine swallowed hard and typed the name into the search bar.

Joanna Johnson.

Desperate for certainty, Katherine opened another tab and searched for her own family instead.

Richard Hart.

The familiar face of her father immediately filled the screen beneath headlines praising Hart Group's continued success. Financial magazines called him one of the country's most influential businessmen. News outlets praised the Hart Foundation's latest charitable projects. Interview after interview described Richard and Amelia Hart as one of the nation's most respected couples.

Then Katherine noticed the line repeated in nearly every article.

Richard and Amelia Hart's only daughter, Katherine Hart...

Only daughter. Her eyes lingered on those two words until they became impossible to read. Only daughter. If Joanna truly was the Hart family's biological child, then nobody had discovered the truth yet.

Or perhaps...

Nobody except Soron. The thought sent another chill through her body.

She closed the browser and stared silently at the reflection in the darkened screen. Every memory from her previous life surfaced one after another, each of them taking on an entirely different meaning. Soron's distant expression during the final weeks of their engagement. The reporters accusing her of stealing another woman's identity. Amelia's broken voice asking where her real daughter was. At the time, Katherine had believed her world had collapsed overnight.

Now she realized it had probably begun falling apart long before she ever noticed.

Unable to bear the silence any longer, she opened one of her social media accounts. The interface looked almost unfamiliar after four years. Friends she had long forgotten appeared online as though nothing tragic had ever happened. Birthdays, photographs, university gossip, and meaningless conversations filled the screen, reminders of a life untouched by betrayal.

Almost absentmindedly, she typed Joanna Johnson into the search bar once more.

This time she didn't expect to find anything. Profile after profile appeared before her, each one more ordinary than the last. She opened one, glanced at the photograph, and closed it again. Another. Then another. Nearly twenty minutes passed before her thumb stopped over a profile with only a handful of followers and an old photograph of a girl painfully familar looking. She had no recognised the face completley when the Curiosity more than hope prompted her to open it.

The account was quiet. There were no glamorous holidays, no luxury restaurants, no carefully curated life like so many others. Most of the photographs showed ordinary moments, a cup of instant noodles, a rainy street, a stray cat sleeping beneath a bench, sunsets viewed from a tiny apartment window.

Katherine continued scrolling without thinking until an older photograph appeared. Her fingers froze.

The picture had clearly been taken years ago inside an orphanage playground. Two little girls sat side by side on a rusted swing they were around 9 or 10, both wearing oversized hand-me-down clothes with scraped knees and messy hair. One smiled brightly at the camera while the other held up a crooked paper flower with childish pride.

Katherine's heart stopped. She recognized the girl on the left immediately. It was herself. Slowly, almost fearfully, her eyes shifted toward the little girl sitting beside her. The smile. The eyes.

The tiny scar above her eyebrow.

A forgotten name escaped Katherine's lips before she even realized she remembered it.

"...Jojo." The room fell completely silent.

Her trembling fingers hurried through the older photographs one after another. There they were sharing a single birthday cake with dozens of other orphaned children. There they were sitting beneath a tree making paper flowers because they couldn't afford toys. There they were wrapped beneath the same blanket during winter, laughing at something only children could understand. The pictures were captioned. "Good old days. Will always miss you Kiki."

Then came the photograph Katherine wished she had never found It had been taken on the day she was adopted.

A younger Katherine stood beside Richard and Amelia, holding a stuffed rabbit someone had bought for her that morning. Several children waved from the orphanage gates behind them.

Near the front stood Jojo. She wasn't waving. She was crying.

The memory struck Katherine with such force that tears immediately blurred her vision.

She remembered promising that she would come back. She remembered telling Jojo they would always be sisters.

She remembered watching the orphanage disappear through the back window of the car while Jojo grew smaller and smaller until she vanished completely. She had never returned.

A broken laugh escaped Katherine as she covered her mouth to stop herself from sobbing.

"So it was you...You are the Joanna." All Katherine remembered was the name Jojo that she had given her.

For thirteen years, Joanna had remained behind while Katherine unknowingly lived the life that should have belonged to her. She had been loved by parents who had spent those same thirteen years searching for their real daughter without ever realizing she was still waiting where they had left her. Katherine had inherited a family, a home, an education, and a future that had never been meant for her. Even Soron... perhaps he had never truly been hers either.

Tears slipped silently down Katherine's cheeks as she looked once more at the photograph of the two little girls smiling beneath the orphanage swing.

"I'm sorry..." she whispered, her fingers trembling as they brushed across Jojo's face on the screen. "I'm so sorry for taking them away from you."

A bitter ache settled in her chest as the pieces of her previous life finally fell into place. She had spent years wondering why everything she loved had been taken from her all at once. Now, looking back, it felt less like fate had been cruel and more like fate had finally corrected a mistake. Joanna had lost her parents, her home, and the life she should have lived, yet somehow, every one of those blessings had found Katherine instead. In the end, the life Katherine had borrowed had caught up with her, demanding to be returned.

She closed her eyes, unable to stop the tears.

"This time," she whispered, gently brushing her thumb across Jojo's face, "I won't make the same mistake."

Her voice trembled, but the resolve in her heart only grew stronger.

"I'll return everything."

The words settled over the quiet hospital room like a vow.

She would not wait for history to repeat itself. She would not allow the Hart family to lose another thirteen years with their daughter, nor would she continue living a life that had never belonged to her. Before the engagement, before the reporters, before betrayal tore everyone apart once more, Katherine would find Jojo herself.

This time, she would be the one to take her home.

"I am sorry for taking them away from you." Katherine's hand trembled. She could see, even though she had lived her life, the love that was Joanna's ended up finding her one way or the other, and KATHERINE suffered the consequences of what she had done. Stolen life had caught up to her after thirteen years. " A bitter taste tickled in her throat.

"This time," she whispered, gently brushing her thumb across Jojo's face on the screen, "I won't make the same mistake."

Her voice trembled, but her resolve did not.

"I'll return everything."

The words settled over the quiet hospital room like a vow.

She would not wait for history to repeat itself. She would not allow the Hart family to lose another twenty years with their daughter, nor would she cling to a life that had never truly belonged to her. Before the engagement, before the reporters, before betrayal and blood stained the future once more, Katherine would find Jojo herself.

And this time...

She would be the one to take her home.