The Unwanted Heiress
The agent handling the sale blinked at me from across the mahogany desk, his professional poise cracking for just a second. The island wasn’t famous. It was an unplottable speck of green in a vast blue sea, a place so remote that even satellite navigation systems struggled to lock onto its coordinates. Buying it wasn't just a purchase; it was a severance from the world.
“Ms. Linwood, are you certain?” he asked, his voice laced with caution. “Once you take up residence, contacting the outside world will be… next to impossible.”
I nodded, a profound sense of relief washing over me, the first clean breath I’d taken in two lifetimes.
“That’s the point,” I said. “I don’t want anyone to find me.”
He froze for a moment, an odd request from a woman of my apparent means, but his training kicked in. He didn't pry, simply detailed the closing process and the timeline for when I could take possession.
When he told me it would only take a few days, I felt the last of the tension bleed from my shoulders. I slid the black card across the desk, the transaction approved in an instant. Then I turned and walked out into the brilliant Port Sterling sunlight.
Tilting my head back, I stared at the impossibly blue sky and breathed. Really breathed.
The money for the island was a gift from Julian Croft. My engagement gift, to be precise. As the wealthiest man in the city, he was known for his generosity, and seven hundred million dollars was apparently the going rate for a bride.
In my last life, I died before I had the chance to spend a single cent of it.
This time, I’d been reborn just after our engagement. And the first lesson I learned from clawing my way back from the grave was to never, ever short-change myself again.
I was waiting for a cab at the curb when a black Maybach screeched to a halt in front of me. The door flew open and Julian launched himself out, his long legs eating up the pavement between us. For a man who was always the picture of calm self-possession, he looked frantic. His cool, chiseled features were tight with an anxiety that his stormy gray eyes couldn't hide.
It was the first time I’d seen him since… before. The old name slipped from my lips before I could stop it.
“Uncle Julian…”
He didn’t even really look at me. His hand shot out, grabbing mine, and he pulled me toward the open car door.
“Kira, get in. Now.”
He practically threw me into the backseat, my head cracking against the opposite window with a sickening thud. He slid in after me, his attention already glued to the screen of his phone, completely oblivious to my pain.
The car tore through the city streets, finally lurching to a stop at the entrance of the hospital’s emergency wing. He was out before the vehicle had fully stopped, yanking me by the hand, dragging me toward the blood donation center.
It wasn't until I was sitting in a chair, a nurse swabbing my arm and a needle glinting under the fluorescent lights, that he finally offered an explanation.
“Seraphina took a tumble down the stairs,” he said, his eyes still on his phone. “Lost a lot of blood. Don’t worry, they won’t need to take too much this time.”
Before I could even process his words, a hand cracked across my face. The slap was so hard my head snapped to the side, my cheek erupting in a blaze of fire.
“Where the hell have you been?!” my mother shrieked, her face a mask of rage. “I told you, you are not to leave your sister’s side! Ever!”
Tears sprang to my eyes from the sheer force of it. I looked up at her, speechless. My father stood beside her, his arm around her shoulders, his own eyes burning with the same fury.
“Do you enjoy making us worry?” he snarled. “If anything had happened to Sera, I swear I’d have skinned you alive!”
My brother, Caleb, leaned against the wall, his arms crossed. He didn't even bother to waste a full glance on me. “Honestly,” he scoffed, “we should just put a leash on her. Stop her from wandering off.”
This was my family. Ready to flay me, chain me, all because I’d been out of their sight for an hour.
The only person who didn’t scream at me was Julian, but his words were just as sharp, just as telling. His concern was a blade pointed in only one direction.
“That’s enough,” he said curtly, not looking up from his screen. “Don’t upset Seraphina while she’s getting a transfusion.”
Who cared about me? I was just Seraphina’s walking blood bank. My entire existence was a contingency plan. I was born for one reason and one reason only: my older sister, Seraphina, had hemophilia, a severe blood clotting disorder that required regular transfusions to keep her alive. So my parents had another child. A living, breathing, custom-made medical supply.
You could tell how much they valued me just from our names. *Seraphina.* Angelic, serene, beautiful. A name chosen with love. And me? *Kira.* Two syllables they picked at random. An afterthought.
Growing up, my arms were a roadmap of needle marks. I was their tool, nothing more. My brother only had one sister in his heart, and it wasn't me. I was always the extra one, the shadow in the family portrait.
Only one person was ever kind to me: Julian Croft.
The Crofts and the Linwoods were old family friends. Julian was only six years older than Seraphina, but due to some long-standing family hierarchy, I was taught to call him ‘Uncle Julian.’ Growing up in a house where I was invisible, it was inevitable that I would fall for the one person who gave me even a sliver of warmth. He was the one who noticed when I was pale, who’d bring me a blanket when I was shivering after a donation.
So I confessed my love to him. He was shocked—I saw it in his eyes. There was no joy on his face, no answering blush. But he agreed. He said yes, and he promised he would marry me.
God, I was so happy then. I thought the man I loved, loved me back. I figured all the luck I was meant to have in this life had been spent on that one impossible moment. It was enough. If my family didn’t care for me, it didn’t matter. I had Julian.
But I was a fool. It wasn't until much later that I learned the truth. The person Julian truly loved was, and had always been, Seraphina.
He was only willing to marry me to lock down his control over her blood supply. He was terrified that I might marry someone else, move away, and refuse to be her lifeline. He loved my sister so much that he was willing to sacrifice his own life, shackling himself to me just to ensure her safety.
And I, like an idiot, had been blissfully unaware, preening over the fact that I was going to be Mrs. Julian Croft.
It was laughable. So, so laughable.
The door to the recovery room opened, and Seraphina was wheeled out, a flock of nurses cooing over her. Instantly, my parents, my brother, and Julian abandoned me, swarming around her gurney. They fussed over her, their voices thick with concern, their love for her a suffocating, tangible thing.
Watching them, a wave of nausea rolled through me.
I gave a bitter, silent laugh. Fighting the dizziness that was starting to cloud my vision, I pulled down my sleeve, turned, and walked away from them.
Outside, under the cold, indifferent sky, I looked down at my left hand. The engagement ring, a diamond so large and brilliant it looked like a shard of a star, mocked me from my finger.
Without a moment's hesitation, I pulled it off and tossed it into a nearby trash can.
This time, I wouldn't beg for scraps of affection from my parents. I wouldn't cling to Julian like he was a life raft.
This time, I didn't want any of them.
If everyone in the world loves Seraphina Linwood, and no one loves Kira Linwood…
Then I will love myself.
***
It always took me a few days to recover after giving blood to Seraphina, and this time was no different. The rest of the family was camped out at the hospital with her, so I had the house to myself. It was a hollow, echoing peace.
I was heading downstairs for a glass of water, still weak, when the front door banged open. Before I could even see who it was, a box came flying through the air and slammed into my forehead. Stars exploded behind my eyes, a familiar, sickening pain.
I didn't need to look. I knew that particular brand of casual violence belonged to my dear mother.
“Kira! What the hell is wrong with you? Why haven’t you been checking your messages?!”
“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you? Ignoring us just to make Sera upset!”
“You worthless girl! We feed you, we clothe you, and for what?!”
As she screamed, I wiped at the blood trickling down from my hairline and pulled my phone from my pocket. I’d missed a storm of messages in the family group chat. They’d been blowing up my phone since dawn. Today was the day Seraphina was coming home from the hospital, and I was supposed to have her favorite chocolate lava cakes—a notoriously fussy and time-consuming recipe—baked and waiting for her grand return.
But I’d just given blood. I barely had the strength to stand, let alone spend hours in the kitchen. Besides, I’d been in a weak, drowsy haze all morning; I hadn't even heard my phone.
I opened my mouth to explain, but then I saw them. Julian and my brother, Caleb, were gently guiding Seraphina into the living room. They treated her like she was made of spun glass, arranging pillows behind her back, handing her a glass of water, fussing over the temperature. They served her like a queen.
Caleb’s eyes, which had been so soft when looking at Seraphina, landed on me and turned to ice.
“You actually expected *her* to bake for Sera?” he sneered. “That’s hilarious. She just sits around the house all day, lazy and useless. She has no skills, no hobbies… All she does is smear paint on a canvas. She can’t hold a candle to Seraphina.”
Since the day I was born, I’d spent more than half of every year either giving blood or recovering from it. Hobbies? When would I have had time to cultivate hobbies, like Seraphina did with her ballet, her piano, her everything?
And the “smeared paint” he mentioned… that was my art. The one and only dream in my barren life, and he dismissed it as worthless. I’d heard words like this a thousand times, but each one still felt like a fresh stab to the heart.
Julian glanced over, playing the part of the mediator as he always did.
“Kira, are you feeling unwell? Maybe you’re just tired from yesterday.”
In my old life, hearing him defend me, even in this small way, would have sent a pathetic thrill through me. *See? Someone cares. Someone notices.*
But now, knowing the truth, his words were just a bitter irony. He was only keeping up the charade, pretending to love me. And because I loved him, it took almost no effort at all for him to fool me, to keep me trapped in his web.
Not this time. I wouldn't be fooled again.
At Julian’s words, Seraphina immediately put on her mask of sweet understanding. “Oh, it’s alright,” she sighed softly. “I don’t need a cake. Kira should rest. Really.”
Caleb shot me a look of pure disgust. “Sera, don’t even worry about her. It’s her duty to do things for you. It’s the entire reason she exists, after all—because of you. You’re just too kind. Her entire purpose is to make you happy, understand?”
The words, so blunt and cruel, made my chest seize. It felt like a thousand tiny needles were piercing my lungs, making it hard to breathe. I share their blood. I’m a person. I feel pain.
But no one ever cared. No one.
At dinner, the whole family doted on Seraphina. My parents piled her plate high, and Caleb even painstakingly deboned her fish before placing it in her bowl. The entire menu consisted of her favorite dishes.
I kept my head down, shoveling rice into my mouth, when a piece of calamari suddenly landed in my bowl.
I looked up. Julian was sitting beside me. Then I looked down at the calamari. A dry, bitter smile touched my lips.
How thoughtful of him to remember to perform his role as my loving fiancé. But if he truly loved me, if he’d ever paid an ounce of real attention to me, he’d know that calamari was Seraphina’s favorite.
And that I was deathly allergic to seafood.
The evidence was everywhere, it always had been. But I had been so desperate for that sliver of warmth that I’d been blind to it all until now.
As the meal wound down, my parents brought up the wedding.
Seraphina immediately set down her chopsticks, her eyes welling up with crocodile tears. “Mom, Dad… I’ve been feeling so weak lately. I’m afraid I won’t be able to make it to Kira and Uncle Julian’s wedding.” She paused, putting on a brave face. “But I so badly want to be there to see them happy. Maybe… maybe they could postpone it? Just until I’m feeling a little stronger?”
Everyone in this house knew that her every wish was their command. She didn't need to act so hesitant, so self-sacrificing. It was just another performance to highlight her sweet nature.
My parents and Caleb agreed instantly, of course. Julian, however, hesitated for a fraction of a second. He turned to me, his expression unreadable, and asked the question as a matter of form.
“Kira, would you be willing to wait?”
***
In my past life, Seraphina used that same excuse to postpone our wedding year after year. As long as she wasn’t “well enough,” Julian would never marry me.
A humorless smile twisted my lips. “Of course. I don’t mind at all.”
What was there to mind? We were never going to get married anyway.
“I’m finished,” I said, setting down my own chopsticks. Without another word, I stood up and walked upstairs, not once looking back.
Watching my resolute back, something flickered in Julian’s eyes. For the first time, he seemed to feel that something about me had changed. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but I wasn't the same.
In the days that followed, with the wedding postponed indefinitely, there were no more plans to be made. This freed up Julian’s schedule considerably, giving him plenty of time to entertain Seraphina. They went on a trip, a scenic tour up the coast. Seraphina made sure to invite my parents and Caleb. The only one not invited was me. The excuse, delivered with a syrupy sweet smile, was that I needed to rest after my blood donation.
Right. They were the perfect, happy family. If I went along, I’d just be the splinter under their fingernail, an unwelcome nuisance. Why would I subject myself to that?
To make sure I didn’t feel left out, Seraphina was kind enough to share the “joy” of her trip with me. She sent me photos from every stop. Pictures of her standing in front of breathtaking landscapes, the smiling center of their universe, soaking up all the love and affection they had to give.
*Kira, it’s a shame you couldn’t come! The views here are absolutely gorgeous!*
*Mom and Dad said if I like it here, they’ll buy a house for me, so I can come visit whenever I want.*
*Caleb promised he’ll take me anywhere I want to go from now on.*
*Uncle Julian gave me a huge gift here, too. Want to know what it is?*
I deleted each photo as it arrived. Then I turned off my phone and went back to packing my bags. I just had to hold on for a little while longer. Freedom was close.
Just then, I heard a faint scuffling sound from downstairs.
My hands froze. A memory, sharp and sudden, flashed through my mind. In my last life, around this same time, a burglar had broken into the house. He’d stolen all the jewelry, but worse, he’d destroyed all of my paintings.
My heart hammered against my ribs.
Jewelry was just stuff. My paintings… they were my lifeblood, the only part of me that was truly mine.
I scrambled to hide my finished canvases, stuffing them into a portfolio case under my bed. Then, I dialed 911, my fingers trembling slightly. Grabbing the sharpest knife from my art supplies, I flattened myself against the wall behind my bedroom door, and waited.
I had the advantage this time. I knew what was coming. It gave me just enough of an edge to help the police catch him when they arrived.
But I was still no match for his strength. Even knowing his moves, I couldn’t completely avoid the struggle. By the time it was over, I was a mess of cuts and bruises, having been thrown down the stairs in the fight. My face was smeared with blood.
The family and Julian returned to find police cars pulling away from the curb and me sitting on the sofa in the middle of a wrecked living room.
My parents stared, dumbfounded. “You… you caught him by yourself?” my mother stammered.
My father found his voice, and it was full of anger. “Why didn’t you call us?! These guys are violent criminals! Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
Even Caleb, who usually couldn’t be bothered, looked shocked. “Seriously. A burglar breaks in and you don’t call your family? What’s that supposed to mean? Trying to make us look like we mistreat you or something?”
I was so exhausted I could barely speak. I sat on the sofa, the hand that had held the knife still trembling uncontrollably.
Julian noticed. He rushed forward, his voice laced with something that sounded like concern, and grabbed my trembling hand. “Kira, what’s wrong? Are you hurt anywhere? Do you need to go to the hospital?” He tightened his grip. “You were so reckless. Why didn’t you call us?”
I yanked my hand out of his. The question was so absurd, so utterly disconnected from reality, that a weak, bitter laugh escaped me. “Call you? Would it have made a difference? Would any of you have come back for me?”
They all flinched. For a second, guilt flashed across their faces, but they quickly covered it with blustering denial. “Of course we would have!”
I just smiled that same empty smile. In my last life, I had believed that. I had called them, one by one, as I hid, terrified, in a closet. No one answered.
The burglar found me because the light from my phone gave me away. He tortured me for hours.
Later, I found out why they hadn’t answered. They were all on a private beach with Seraphina, setting off fireworks. They were living a beautiful, perfect moment together while I was bleeding on the floor, nearly dying.
So this time, I didn't need any of them.
Julian stared at me, his brow furrowed into a deep line. I could see the confusion in his eyes. He felt it again, that shift in me. The old Kira would have been terrified, sobbing, clinging to him for comfort, crying about how they had abandoned her.
But this Kira was calm. Terrifyingly calm, as if none of it had anything to do with her.
He opened his mouth to say something else, but just then, Caleb spotted my packed suitcases near the stairs.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going with all that?” he demanded.
***
Julian’s head snapped around, his gaze instantly sharp and suspicious.
“Kira, what’s going on?”
My heart skipped a beat. In the chaos of the break-in, I’d completely forgotten about my luggage sitting in plain sight. I tucked my trembling hands into the sleeves of my sweater and forced a casual smile. “I saw all your vacation photos. It just made me want to get away for a bit myself. I figured I’d pack my bags so I’d be ready to go as soon as I picked a destination.”
The lie tasted like ash in my mouth, but it was the only thing I could think of.
My parents’ faces immediately darkened. “Get away? What are you talking about?” my mother snapped. “Have you forgotten what I told you? You are not to leave Seraphina’s side!”
“That’s right,” my father added, his voice a low growl. “What if Sera needs a transfusion and you’re not here? Don’t forget why we had you in the first place. Now, unpack those bags. You’re not going anywhere without our permission.”
Julian seemed to relax, convinced by my explanation. “Next time you want to travel, just come with us,” he said, his tone softening into something almost paternal. “It’s not safe for you to go alone, you know?”
I chuckled silently to myself. The place I was going was a place they could never follow.
A few days later, it was my birthday. It was also Seraphina’s. Though we were born three years apart, we shared the same date. For as long as I could remember, there was only ever one birthday cake. One set of candles. One person whose name was sung.
When I was little, I believed my parents when they said it was silly to buy two cakes for the same day. But our family wasn’t poor. The cost of a cake was nothing. The truth was simpler: they just didn’t care. They didn’t want my birthday to detract from Seraphina’s spotlight.
The party decor, as always, was Seraphina’s favorite shade of princess pink. Pink roses, pink balloons, a towering pink cake. All the gifts piled on the table were for her. She stood in the center of the room, the radiant star of the show, soaking in the happy wishes from our guests.
“Happy birthday, Seraphina!”
She laughed as she opened her presents, her eyes sparkling like diamonds.
I stood in a forgotten corner, an outsider at my own birthday party.
“Hey, Uncle Julian,” Seraphina chirped, holding up a gift box. “Why are there two boxes from you?”
All eyes turned to him. He calmly took one of the boxes and walked over to me, extending it.
“This one is for you.”
Seraphina’s smile faltered for a second, but it returned, brighter than ever, after she opened both gifts. Of course. Her gift from Julian was a one-of-a-kind necklace from a world-renowned designer, worth a fortune.
My gift was the free promotional item that came with her purchase.
A few people nearby snickered.
“A free gift with purchase. How fitting.”
They were right. I was just Seraphina’s add-on, her living, breathing freebie. The gift was perfect.
I didn’t say a word. When no one was looking, I quietly dropped the cheap trinket into the trash.
After the party, Seraphina, giddy with excitement, announced that since she’d just gotten her driver’s license, she would drive everyone home. My parents and brother, eager to indulge her every whim, cheered her on. They waited by the front door as she went to fetch the car from the garage.
I lingered behind them, staring down at my shoes, my mind a million miles away, calculating how many more days until the paperwork for my island was finalized. How many more days until I could finally leave. I was so lost in thought that I didn't hear the car pulling up behind me. I didn’t hear it accelerating.
There was a screech of tires, a sudden, violent impact, and then I was flying through the air.
As my consciousness faded, the last thing I heard was Seraphina’s voice, a masterpiece of feigned panic and theatrical sobs. Then, everything went black.
When I woke up, I was in the hospital. The adrenaline had worn off, and a tidal wave of pain crashed over me. I pried my heavy eyelids open and found myself staring up at the harsh lights of an operating room. My body felt strangely light, as if my soul were detaching, floating up toward the ceiling.
*Am I dying?* The thought was strangely calm. *Is this what it feels like?*
It hurt so much. I closed my eyes again, letting the darkness swallow me.
Just beyond the wall, I could hear a doctor speaking urgently with my family.
“You need to make a decision now. The patient is bleeding out and needs an immediate transfusion, or she won’t make it. The hospital’s blood bank is low on her type. Your other daughter is a match—why won’t you let her donate?”
Their reply was a single, unified voice. A chorus of denial.
“No! Absolutely not! Seraphina can’t give blood!”
My consciousness was a flickering candle flame, about to be extinguished. In that final second before the darkness took me completely, one last voice cut through the fog, clear, cold, and resolute. It was Julian.
“He’s right. Seraphina cannot donate.”
***
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