They Stole My Name, I'll Steal Their Empire

It was the second time the Donovans had sent me away. The first time, I was eleven. This time, I was eighteen.

The reason was the same: Sloane.

This time, it was because I’d slapped her for trying to snatch the worn-out rag doll I’d had for years. The first time… the reasons were more complicated.

On the day I left, my parents—our parents—were busy comforting Sloane, whose sobs echoed through the marble entryway. My brother, Ethan, stood in front of her like a bodyguard, his face a mask of fury directed at me.

The only thing I took with me was that doll. A gift from Carter Hayes, my betrothed, from the day I was first found and brought to this house.

Seven years later, they summoned me back for the second time.

The reason, once again, was Sloane. She had decided she was in love with my fiancé.



1

The moment I stepped into the grand, sun-drenched living room, Sloane dissolved into tears, her face a perfect portrait of tragedy.

“I love Carter,” she cried, her voice catching prettily. “I won’t have anyone but him.”

My brother, Ethan, fixed me with a look he usually reserved for criminals. “Sloane and Carter have always been close. Why do you have to be the one to ruin it?”

My mother and father, the Donovans, took a softer approach, their voices laced with practiced reason. “Sloane has been raised with a certain… delicacy, Chloe. Marrying into a family as influential as the Hayeses is what’s best for her, what she’s prepared for.”

My mother reached out, then let her hand fall. “Please, Chloe. Can’t you just let her have this?”

My hands felt clammy on the handle of my single suitcase. I looked at the four of them, a united front of familial concern, all of it aimed at protecting someone else.

“Excuse me,” I said, my voice quiet in the cavernous room. “Which room is mine?”

The four of them blinked, the flow of their drama momentarily dammed.

After a few seconds of silence, Ethan cleared his throat, a flicker of awkwardness in his eyes. “The housekeeper just cleared out one of the rooms on the second floor. I’ll… I’ll show you.”

I nodded and followed him up the sweeping staircase.

The suitcase was heavy, its wheels bumping on each step. Halfway up, he finally seemed to realize he should be carrying it, turning to take it from me with a gruff, reluctant motion.

I followed a step behind him, the old habit of politeness ingrained in me. “Thank you.”

Ethan’s shoulders tensed. He didn’t reply.

The room was an old storage space, hastily converted. The bed frame looked like a cast-off from the basement, and the mattress was still bare, waiting for linens that no one had remembered. For a family like the Donovans, this room was worse than what they gave the staff.

Ethan coughed lightly. “The third floor…”

“I know,” I cut him off gently. “It’s fine.”

The third floor had four bedrooms. Sloane had claimed the two best ones—with the best light and the best views—one for sleeping, and one for her million-dollar grand piano.

We stood in the dusty silence for a moment before Ethan finally broke. “Chloe, Grandpa set up this engagement for you. He left you a separate inheritance, a significant one. Sloane… she doesn’t have any of that. Can’t you just…”

“What did the Hayes family say?” I asked, cutting through his appeal.

“The Hayeses…” He hesitated. “This is a matter between our families. It’s an alliance. As long as we sort it out internally, we can present a united front to them later.”

So, this wasn’t Carter’s idea.

A small, secret breath of relief escaped me.

I was eleven when they found me and brought me to this house. I thought I was coming home to parents and a brother who had spent years searching for me. Instead, I found a family that was already complete, with a daughter named Sloane.

They told me that after I, the original Sloane Donovan, was lost at four years old, they’d adopted another girl to fill the void, to soothe their grief. They gave her my name. They had come to see her as their own. So when they found me, they gave me a new name: Chloe. The echo. The return.

Sloane, emboldened by their adoration, had thrown a tantrum and smashed up the princess bedroom they had prepared for me. She’d pointed a finger in my face and called me a charity case from the system, unfit to sleep in such a nice room. She’d cried and screamed that she needed an inspiring environment for her piano practice, and so the room became hers.

At the dinner table, she mocked me for eating too quietly, a habit I’d learned in the group home. She laughed, loud and unrestrained, at my clumsy attempts to cut a steak. When my parents offered a mild rebuke, she ran to the rooftop terrace and threatened to jump.

After that, my father’s only refrain was for me to “get along with Sloane” and “not to upset her.” My mother said nothing, but her eyes, so much like my own, followed me with a cold disappointment. The turmoil that rocked the Donovan household was always, somehow, my fault.

The first time I fought back against her, Ethan proposed sending me away to live with a distant relative in Blackwood Creek.

…

“Chloe.”

Ethan’s face was stern again, pulling me from the memory. “You didn’t grow up with Mom and Dad. In terms of education, of culture, of knowing your place… how can you possibly compare to Sloane? A family like the Hayeses… even if you managed to marry into it, you wouldn’t last.”

I looked at him calmly, at this man who shared my blood but had done nothing but belittle me since the moment we met.

My voice was cool, each word deliberate. “Carter is my fiancé. And I am not giving him to Sloane.”

2

“Chloe! I thought after all these years, you would have grown up, learned some sense. Why must you fight Sloane for Carter?”

Ethan’s anger was predictable. His eyes held a familiar glint of contempt. “I know what you’re thinking. You see the Hayes family name, the money. You think marrying Carter means you’ll be set for life, dripping in luxury.”

He took a step closer. “But you and Carter have no real connection. Nothing like him and Sloane. They grew up together. Why are you so selfishly clinging to this arrangement and making Sloane miserable?”

A dry laugh escaped my lips. “Ethan, you just listed all the reasons the Hayes engagement is so valuable. Why on earth would I give it away?” I stepped toward him, my eyes locked on his. “You’re so worried about Sloane’s pain. What about mine? And another thing—did you ever once stop to ask if I, your actual sister, even like Carter?”

He looked genuinely stunned, sputtering, “You don’t deserve…”

My gaze turned to ice. He stopped himself, a look of shamefaced anger crossing his face as he registered my mocking, knowing expression.

What a joke. We were both daughters of the Donovan family. But when it came to me, the only sentiment was that I didn’t deserve it.

I dropped my eyes, the dust motes dancing on the dark wood floor stinging them. I turned away sharply. “Don’t bother with the room. I’m heading back to campus this afternoon. I have an internship to focus on. I won’t be staying here.”

“Chloe!” he called out as I walked away. “You bullied Sloane in high school. You were the reason she fell into a depression and had to drop out for a semester. Don’t you feel any guilt for what you owe her?”

My feet froze on the top step. A hot, acidic sting filled my eyes.

Bullied her?

It didn’t matter what I said. They would always believe the daughter they had raised, the one they knew.

I walked down the stairs and into the living room. My mother was now fussing over Sloane, feeding her something from a small bowl. She looked up as I approached, her body tensing.

“Chloe, you’re not staying for dinner?”

I stood there, studying the familiar lines of her face, the curve of her brows that mirrored my own. A treacherous flicker of hope ignited in my chest.

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