My Reborn Sister Rejected The Billionaire So I Took Him Instead

My ultimate life goal? To be a pampered sloth.

Not just any sloth. I want to be the kind that only eats air-freighted ingredients, wears custom couture, travels with an eight-person security detail, and whose life is henceforth devoid of all stress and inconvenience. A top-tier, kept slacker.

Unfortunately, I was just Daisy Holt, the second daughter of the Holt family, forever living in the perfect shadow of my older sister, Stella.

Then, on the eve of her engagement to Lachlan Shawa formidable prince of the New York financial circuitmy sister was reborn.

She sobbed to our parents that her fianc was a monstrous control freak, that marrying him meant stepping into a gilded cage, and shed rather die than lose her freedom.

I was about to offer a platitude when a line of text flashed before my eyes, like a streaming comment or a social media pop-up:

[Here we go! The She Runs, He Chases forced-love trope! The heroine says he monitors her social life and restricts her movements. Pure hell!]

Listening to my sisters hysterical protests, and reading the plot leak, I felt a thrill that brought tears to my eyes.

Restricted social life? Perfect, I'm a recluse!

Restricted movement? Fantastic, Im a homebody!

Where my sister saw a nightmare, I saw a bespoke slice of heaven tailored specifically for my low-energy, highly anxious existence.

When I saw Mom and Dad preparing to break the engagement for Stellas "freedom," I dropped to my knees with a theatrical thud.

"Dad! Mom! If my sister doesn't want to jump into the fire," I declared, my eyes shining with genuine, tearful sincerity, "then for God's sake, let me take the dive!"

I suspect my sister, Stella Holt, was, in fact, reborn.

Otherwise, I couldn't explain how the woman who had been demurely flaunting her three-carat engagement rock the day before, woke up weeping and begging to call the whole thing off.

In the living room, she was currently pouring out her heart to our parents. She claimed that Lachlan Shaw, the New York elite's darling, was a velvet-glove tyranta secret, obsessive control freak.

She hadn't even met Lachlan in person yet.

I was about to interject when the comments flashed again:

[Wait, why did the heroine just reset the timeline?]

[Its a sick, obsessive forced-love story. If the heroine doesn't marry him, what am I supposed to read?!]

[Hold up, commenter above, maybe a fresh start is good for her. The heroine loves her freedom. I mean, can you imagine that life? Food has to be air-freighted, clothes are all private custom orders, even the brand of toothpaste is dictated by the hero. A life with no choices and no turbulence? How could she possibly survive that?!]

My eyes lit up. This world, I realized, had gone completely mad.

I don't love freedom! That lifethe one with no turbulence and pre-selected high-end everythingis the ultimate dream I, a socially anxious, lazy-to-the-bone human, have been striving for!

But the madness didn't stop there.

Mom and Dad, faces etched with sympathy, helped Stella up and righteously declared they would break the decades-old agreement. They were willing to risk bankruptcy and earn the ire of the entire New York financial circuit to protect their daughters "precious independence."

Excuse me? Isn't there another daughter? The trope of the substitute bride? Did no one read the handbook?

As Dad's hand trembled, reaching for the phone to make the fateful call, I executed my perfect, dramatic kneel.

"Dad! Mom! Stella doesn't want him," I pitched my voice with just the right amount of desperate piety. "I'll marry him. Will that work?"

The living room fell silent for two seconds.

Mom swiftly pulled Dads arm away from the phone. "Oh, honey, you forgot about Daisy! If shes willing to marry him, thats just perfect! Don't make the call, honey. The contract never specified which daughter."

Dad dropped the phone like a hot potato, visibly relieved. The family drama was solved, and everyone was suddenly delighted.

That evening, I was happily packing in my small room, humming to myself.

Comments:

[Who is this random extra popping up and stealing the heroines spotlight?]

[She looks genuinely thrilled. Does she really think losing her freedom will be easy?]

[Hmm, is it just me, or is the Holt familys attitude toward the two sisters drastically different?]

[Replying to the comment above: I noticed that in the living room. And look at the rooms! Stella has the master suite with an ensuite bathroom; Daisy is in a converted nanny closet. Definitely playing favorites.]

[Why not? Stella is the heroine. The world should revolve around her.]

I ignored the bickering comments and carefully organized my meager possessions.

A knock came at the door.

Stella stood in the doorway, her gaze flickering nervously. "Are you really going to take my place and get engaged to Lachlan Shaw?"

My heart stuttered. Was she about to backtrack?

"Well... should I not?" I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Stella didn't answer directly. She bit her lip and continued, "Lachlan is a terrifying person. You have no idea. His ruthlessness in business could drive a man to ruin."

Business ruthlessness had nothing to do with me.

"But... does he hit people at home? Does he make you do chores?"

Stella paused, shaking her head with a strained, bitter smile. "Ten times worse than that."

My stomach tightened in anticipation.

The next second, I heard her dreaded warning: "He will monitor your social life and restrict your movements!"

Sigh. Is that all? Well, never mind then.

Social life? Im low-energy. No thanks.

Going out? Im a couch potato. Leaving the house is what actually kills me.

Stella looked confused by my sudden visible relief, and she clearly wanted to say more. I quickly used the excuse of being tired and shut the door.

All my life, if Stella was unhappy, Mom and Dad would inevitably find a reason to criticize me. I was desperate to escape that shadow, and this was my one and only chance.

The next day, our whole family boarded a private jet to New York.

Our family certainly couldn't afford a private flight; the arrangement was a courtesy of the Shaw family.

The engagement ceremony was ostentatiously grand.

In the waiting lounge, I met the legendary Lachlan Shaw for the first time.

And I swear, I was a total S-W-O-O-N.

Based on Stellas horror stories, I'd prepared myself for someone vaguely decent-looking but ultimately menacing. I certainly didn't expect a tall, broad-shouldered, impossibly handsome man radiating the kind of effortless power that only comes with old money.

I hit the jackpot.

At the ceremony, he took my hand and smiled gently.

"Walk with me, my fiance."

I felt my heart thunder in my chest.

Comments:

[Im done. The hero is so hot. Five minutes of possession, please!]

[OMG, did anyone else notice the heavy emphasis on the word my? So commanding!]

[Guys, stop shipping this! Cant you see Stella in the audience? Shes about to cry. This was supposed to be her ceremony!]

[The commenter above has issues. She gave it up herself, remember?]

After the ceremony, my sister pulled my parents over to say goodbye and, rather oddly, tried to shake Lachlan's hand.

I immediately grabbed her hand instead. "Stella, thank you. I remember everything you said. And so does your future husband, by the way!"

Lachlan looked at me, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes.

Stella bit her lip. She looked conflictedpartly resentful, partly relieved.

That night, Lachlan took me back to the Shaw family's Manhattan penthouse.

Gazing at the enormous room with its sprawling city views and private balcony, I asked uncertainly, "Is this... really for me?"

When he confirmed it, I nearly burst into tears.

But the real shocker was yet to come.

Seeing how much I loved the space, Lachlan immediately called the house manager to draw up a contract, intending to transfer ownership of the penthouse to my name.

Happiness had arrived too quickly. It felt unreal.

"You're giving me the apartment, too? Seriously?"

Lachlan pressed a soft kiss to the top of my head.

"As long as you never leave me, everything I own is yours."

I instantly swore a silent oath to the high heavens, mentally bowing to my new sugar daddy.

Comments:

[Thats the vibe! The dark, controlling male lead is SO satisfying~]

[I'm not jealous at all. She got a multi-million-dollar penthouse, but she lost her precious freedom. Waaah!]

[Seriously? Why does she deserve this? All of his possessions should belong to Stella, our true heroine! This random girl is so shameless.]

[Okay, I need to punch the commenter above.]

I signed the contract, then happily drifted off to sleep. In that half-asleep state, I couldn't shake the feeling of a burning gaze watching me from the side of the bed.

The flawless first day must have lulled me into a false sense of security.

The next morning, I woke up to find my personal luggage had been neatly taken away by the housekeeper.

Just as I was mentally preparing for a dramatic Downton Abbey confrontation, a maid came to escort me to the dressing room, saying Lachlan was waiting for me there.

The "dressing room" was easily twice the size of our family's entire living room.

I stared at the racks and racks of designer gowns, bags, and shoes, all meticulously arranged by color. The realization that I would henceforth only cry Prada tears over my Gucci problems made me chuckle out loud.

"What's so funny?"

Lachlan had walked up beside me, holding a simple, sleek dress.

I waved dismissively and asked if all these clothes were actually mine.

He lowered his lashes and looked at me, his eyes dark with intensity. "These clothes were all purchased last night based on your measurements... I've imagined you in every single piece. From now on, only I will decide what you wear. Is that acceptable?"

My eyes instantly welled up.

I lowered my head, overwhelmed.

This is when the comments went absolutely ballistic:

[Its happening! In the original, the heroine, Stella Holt, immediately flips out and calls him a sick control freak, causing their relationship to instantly sour and leading to the heros descent into full-blown obsession.]

[The original was just toxic drama for the sake of it. The hero wasn't malicious. He just wanted to say that he and his fiance belong exclusively to each other.]

[OMG, look! Daisy is having a much bigger reaction! She looks like shes crying in anger, and the hero thinks she hates him. His face is already turning cold!]

Seeing this last comment, I snapped my head up.

I was met with Lachlans dangerously guarded expression.

His lips were pressed into a thin line, and the light in his eyes was slowly dimming. The air pressure around him plummeted.

[Oh, no, she's crying! He definitely thinks she finds him twisted!]

[For heaven's sake, explain yourself! You were enjoying this! Dont mess this up for all of us!]

[Wait, is she playing him? Pretending to go along, then planning an escape? Clever girl.]

I saw the hurt beneath Lachlan's carefully constructed mask of hardness, and my heart genuinely ached for him.

I wasn't angry! I was touched!

I grabbed his hand and looked up at him, tears streaming down my face.

"I... I'm just so incredibly moved."

"No one has ever been this good to me. Not ever."

"My parents only ever had eyes for Stella. My clothes were always her hand-me-downs. My room was the maid's quarters. Even my name, Daisy, was chosen because Stella means 'Star,' and they wanted me to be 'quietly happy'to never compete with my sister's brilliance."

"I have never owned anything this beautiful, and I couldn't have imagined that someone would prepare all of this for me overnight."

I grew more emotional with every word, my tears flowing freely.

"Lachlan, you are too good to me. I'm afraid this is all a dream."

Lachlan froze.

He gently reached out, wiping the tears from my cheeks with his thumb. His movement was tentative, almost a careful exploration.

"So... you don't hate me for trying to control you?"

I shook my head like a bobblehead.

"Hate it? Not at all! Please, I beg you. Micro-manage me to death!"

The storm cloud vanished from Lachlan's eyes, and the corners of his mouth lifted in a smile he couldn't quite contain.

He pulled me into a tight embrace, resting his chin on my hair, and let out a deeply satisfied sigh.

"Daisy," he whispered. "You are wonderful."

[??? This is not the plot I signed up for.]

[Well played, I have to say. Reverse manipulation! She just overloaded the hero's CPU.]

[This is genius-level strategy! Sisters, take notes! When faced with the CEOs forced love, don't resistcry and tell him hes too good to you!]

[Taking notes now. Ill use this when I reincarnate.]

In the following days, I experienced what could only be described as a celestial existence.

Mornings, I slept until my body decided it was done.

Lachlan was already at his office, but my breakfast was always hot, with dozens of international and American options to choose from. After eating, Id curl up in the penthouse's private cinema or play games in the dedicated gaming room.

In the afternoon, a professional aesthetician and a massage therapist would arrive for my in-house spa service.

In the evening, Lachlan would be home on time to eat dinner with me.

He really was true to my sister's word about "monitoring my social life."

He bought me a bespoke new phone, then recorded his own fingerprint/Face ID into it right in front of me.

"I will check your phone whenever I want," he stated.

I nodded obediently. "Of course. And the password is your birthday."

He paused, then lowered his head and kissed my forehead, a chuckle in his voice. "Good girl."

[Awww, I can't take it! What is this perfect little romance?]

[Heroine: I don't have a social life. You're checking nothing but the weather app.]

[LOL. I bet she has fewer than twenty contacts, and ten of those are customer service bots and official brand accounts.]

The comments were spot on. My only social interaction was texting my mother.

The content was always simple.

Mom: [Daisy, dear, how are things? Is Lachlan treating you well?]

Me: [Very well.]

Mom: [That's good. Your sister has been a little down lately. Could you mention to Lachlanyou know, have him introduce Stella to a good, wealthy man? She sacrificed so much for you.]

I nearly snorted a mouthful of cherry juice at the word "sacrifice."

I immediately handed the phone to Lachlan. "Look, my mom wants you to find a rich guy for my sister."

Lachlan took the phone, scrolled through the messages, and his brow furrowed.

"They talk to you like this often?"

"Pretty much," I shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm used to it."

He said nothing, only taking my phone and promptly blocking both my parents' numbers.

Then he looked up at me, his gaze serious and intense.

"From now on, I am your family."

"You only need to rely on me. All right?"

What was I supposed to say to that?

I launched myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck and tackling him onto the sofa, shouting with pure, unadulterated devotion: "Yes! You are my only family! My one and only, Daddy!"

Lachlan: "..."

[HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!]

[Daddy? What is her thought process?]

[Lachlan Shaw: I treat you like a wife. You treat me like a father/sugar daddy. The power dynamic is completely scrambled!]

Days turned into weeks, and my relationship with Lachlan grew deeper.

I realized he wasn't a freak at all.

His so-called "control" was more like a clumsy, intense, singular focus.

He restricted me from going out because he thought the outside world was unsafe and that I might encounter danger. As a result, every time I (was forced by him to) step outside, I had an eight-person security detail. The spectacle was like a presidential motorcade.

He controlled my diet because I had a sensitive stomach and was a picky eater. He hired a team of professional nutritionists and chefs, who prepared endless variations of healthy, delicious food. After a month, my face was noticeably rounder.

As for restricting my clothes...

I looked at the overflowing racks of designer bags, shoes, and clothes, and my only thought was: Please, increase the intensity. Don't ever stop!

One day, as I lay on the sofa eating air-freighted cherries, Lachlan handed me an engraved invitation.

"There's a charity gala tonight. I need you to accompany me."

My brow furrowed immediately.

"Can I skip it?" I hated those social eventsthey were noisy, exhausting, and required a lot of fake smiling.

Lachlan gently pinched my cheek. "No, you can't. This one is important. Many key partners will be there."

"Come on, just go for me."

Since he put it that way, I reluctantly agreed.

That evening, dressed in a custom, star-colored evening gown Lachlan had personally selected, I walked into the ballroom on his arm. The pairing of the handsome mogul and the beautiful debutante instantly captured the entire room's attention.

Feeling slightly self-conscious, I instinctively shrank closer to him.

Lachlan noticed, leaning down to whisper in my ear: "Don't be nervous. Just stay glued to my side."

He led me around to greet several important business associates. My role was simple: smile, nod, and act as a beautiful, silent accessory.

Just as I was about to find a quiet corner to raid the dessert table, an unwelcome guest appeared.

My sister, Stella Holt.

She was wearing an ethereal white dress and perfect makeup, and she was accompanied by a gentle, artistic-looking man.

When she saw me, a flash of pure envy and resentment crossed her eyes, quickly masked by an expression of deep, sisterly concern.

"Daisy, what are you doing here?"

Before I could speak, Lachlan cut in, his voice cool and flat: "She is my fiance. Where else would she be?"

Stella's face went white. She bit her lip.

"Lachlan, I know you have immense power, but you can't do this to Daisy! She is young! You shouldn't treat her like a bird in a gilded cage!"

[Oh, snap! The original heroine is here! She brought her Male Lead No. 2 with her!]

[This guy must be Orion Nash, the sensitive painter from the original plot, representing freedom and art.]

[Here we go! The classic showdown! The older sister brings 'freedom' to rescue the 'imprisoned' younger sister!]