Ice Calm, Family Panic

The day I was brought back to the Sterling family, Holly was in the living room playing the grand piano. Seeing me in the doorway, her hands froze. A discordant note hung in the air as tears welled in her eyes.
Mom? Dad? she whispered, voice trembling. Are you... throwing me away?
Helen rushed to hug her. "Darling, don't be silly. We never would."
Richard patted her back. "You'll always be our daughter."
Ethan shot me a glass-cutting glare. "Holly's heart has been weak. Don't upset her."
I stood frozen in the entrance, clutching my suitcase, watching their perfect family scene. Honestly, without that promise, I'd never have come.

1
My biological parents and my biological brother were coddling the cuckoo who’d been in my nest for eighteen years, while I, the actual daughter, was left standing on the doorstep like a pizza delivery girl.
“Excuse me,” I said, rapping my knuckles against the ornate doorframe. My voice cut through their drama. “Should I come in? Or do you need me to wait outside until the group hug is over?”
Helen finally seemed to remember I existed. A flicker of embarrassment crossed her face. “Nina, darling, come in, come in. Don’t just stand there.”
Nina.
She got my name wrong. It’s Nora.
I suppose after eighteen years of cooing “Holly,” old habits die hard.
“It’s Nora,” I corrected calmly, dragging my suitcase across the polished marble floor. The sound echoed in the cavernous hall.
Holly lifted her head from her mother’s shoulder, her face a perfect portrait of tear-stained misery. She was beautiful, I had to admit, in a delicate, fragile way. “I’m so sorry, sister,” she sobbed. “It’s all my fault. I’m the one who took your place…”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said, finding an empty corner to stash my bag. “You’ve had it for eighteen years. A few more minutes won’t make a difference.”
The air in the room went still.
Holly’s sobs caught in her throat. She clearly hadn’t expected such bluntness from the poor, long-lost girl.
Ethan’s brow furrowed. “Nora, what kind of way is that to talk?”
I looked at my so-called brother. Twenty-five years old, CEO of Sterling Industries, known in the business world for his ruthless tactics. Right now, though, he looked less like a corporate shark and more like a mother hen protecting her favorite chick.
“I’m just telling the truth.” I sank into a plush velvet sofa. It was softer than the bed I slept on at my foster parents’ house. “She did occupy my place for eighteen years. That’s a fact. Or were you hoping I’d say, ‘Oh, it’s okay, Holly, please, keep it’?”
“You—!”
Ethan started to rise, but Richard stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Nora’s just returned,” he said, clearing his throat. “This is an adjustment for everyone. Holly, why don’t you go up to your room and rest? Don’t forget to take your medication tonight.”
Holly bit her lip, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She gave me one last, wounded look before scurrying up the grand staircase. Her retreating form was the very picture of frail vulnerability.
But I saw it. Just for a second, as she turned away, the corner of her mouth curved into a triumphant smirk.
Not bad acting. Too bad she was dealing with me.

2
Dinner was a lavish spread of ten dishes and a soup, but everything was bland. Steamed fish, boiled vegetables, clear broth. It was all, I was told, for the sake of Holly’s weak heart. I took a bite of the fish. It tasted like cotton.
“Nora,” Helen began, her voice hesitant and careful. “Over there… was life hard for you?”
“Over there” was her delicate term for my foster home.
I set down my fork. “You already ran a background check, didn’t you?” They must have, after the DNA results came back. They wouldn’t have shown up on my doorstep so quickly otherwise.
“We just wanted to hear it from you,” Richard said softly, his voice full of practiced paternal concern.
I offered a thin smile. “My foster father was a gambling addict. My foster mother lived for poker nights. I started working at ten to feed myself, and at fifteen, I started paying for their son’s education. But you probably know the specifics better than I do.”
Helen’s eyes reddened. “Oh, Nora, I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault…”
“We’re trying to eat,” Ethan cut in sharply, his tone clipped. “Can we not ruin everyone’s appetite with these stories?”
I leveled my gaze at him. “Does my past embarrass you, brother?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
“Ah!” Suddenly, Holly clutched her chest, her face turning pale. “My… my heart… it hurts.”
Instantly, the family was in motion, a whirlwind of concern orbiting her.
“Your pills! Quick!” Helen cried.
“Should we go to the hospital?” Richard asked, already reaching for his phone.
“I’ll call the family doctor right now!” Ethan declared, leaping from his chair.
I just kept eating, my fork never pausing. Her performance was slipping. A real cardiac episode doesn’t leave you with enough breath to shout, nor does it grant you the impeccable timing to strike right as an argument is heating up.
The family doctor arrived with impressive speed, confirmed it was just stress-induced palpitations, and prescribed rest. Helen escorted Holly upstairs, with Richard and Ethan trailing behind like a royal guard.
The vast dining room fell silent, leaving me alone at the long, polished table. A maid moved to clear the plates.
“I’m not finished,” I said, waving her away.
I was full, of course, but I was going to sit there and finish my first meal in my real family’s home. Even if I had to do it alone.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. A text from my foster mother.
Where’s the money, you useless girl? This month’s payment is late.
I blocked the number without a second thought. From this day forward, I wasn’t giving a dime to anyone.

3
My room was on the third floor, at the very end of the hall. It was a converted storage closet.
When I pushed the door open, I froze.
It was tiny, less than two hundred square feet, barely big enough for a single bed, a cheap wardrobe, and a small desk. That was it. The paint was peeling in places, and the single window overlooked the backyard’s garbage disposal area, a faint, sour smell wafting in on the evening breeze.
On my way up, I had passed Holly’s room. The door was ajar, and I’d caught a glimpse of a pink canopy bed, a walk-in closet that took up an entire wall, and a private balcony overflowing with flowers. The contrast was staggering.
The head housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, stood in the doorway, her expression carefully neutral. “Miss, Mrs. Sterling said to apologize for the accommodations. They will arrange a better room for you in a few days.”
I managed a smile. “No need to change it. This is fine. It’s quiet.”
She looked like she wanted to say more, but she just gave a tight nod and left, closing the door softly behind her.
I opened my suitcase. It held a few worn-out clothes, but mostly books and notebooks. On top of the stack was my acceptance letter and final report card—top ten in the state.
A score I had bled for.
My foster parents never gave me a cent for tutoring. I taught myself everything. I woke up at 4 a.m. to study and didn't sleep until well after midnight, spending my weekends waiting tables at a diner to earn enough to live. All that, just to get into Aurelia University, the best in the country.
Meanwhile, I’d heard the Sterlings had spent a fortune on tutors for Holly, and she’d only managed to get into a second-rate community college. The irony was bitter.
Around ten, I went downstairs for a glass of water and heard voices from the study.
“…that Nora child is so cold,” Helen was saying, her voice laced with worry. “I’m worried she and Holly won’t get along.”
“Holly’s heart can’t take any stress,” Richard proposed. “Perhaps… Nora could stay in the dorms at the university? It might be for the best.”
“I think that’s a good idea,” Ethan immediately agreed. “Holly has been on edge lately. Having Nora in the house could easily trigger her condition.”
I stood outside the door, listening to my biological family plot to kick me out. The reason? I might upset the fragile heart of the fake princess. What a joke.
I pushed the door open. “No need to debate it. I’ll move out myself.”
Three heads snapped in my direction, their expressions a mixture of shock and guilt.
“Nora, you misunderstood!” Helen said, flustered. “That’s not what we meant!”
“I didn’t misunderstand,” I cut her off. “You’re worried I’ll stress Holly out, so you want me to live on campus. It’s a logical solution. I agree.”
Richard frowned. “Nora, are you angry with us?”
My voice was flat, devoid of emotion. “No. I just think it’s a good proposal. An outsider like me shouldn’t disturb the peace of your perfect family of four.”
“What do you mean, an outsider?” Helen cried, aghast. “You’re my daughter! My own flesh and blood!”
“Oh, right,” I nodded. “Then why didn’t I hear you suggest, ‘Let’s have Holly move to a dorm so she doesn’t upset Nora’?”
Helen was speechless.
Ethan’s patience finally snapped. “Nora, can’t you be a little more considerate? Holly’s health is poor. Can’t you just cut her some slack for once?”
I looked straight at him. “Ethan, my foster father was a gambling addict. One time, after a huge loss, he held a knife to my throat and tried to force me to take out a loan from a loan shark. I was sick that day, burning up with a fever of 103. Guess who cut me some slack then?”
Ethan flinched as if I’d struck him.
“No one,” I continued, my voice like ice. “So I learned a valuable lesson. No one in this world owes you anything. Holly’s health is her problem, not mine.”
“How can you be so heartless?” Ethan slammed his hand on the polished mahogany desk.
“Heartless?” I laughed, a cold, sharp sound that echoed in the quiet room. “Your precious ‘sister’ stole my life for eighteen years, and I’m heartless for stating a simple fact? What about you? Your real daughter comes home, and the first thing you do is figure out how to get rid of her. What does that make you?”
The study was utterly silent.
I turned to leave. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gone by tomorrow. I wouldn’t want to be an eyesore.”

4
The next morning, I was packing my few belongings when Holly appeared at my door, dressed in a pink silk pajama set. She looked the picture of innocence. “Sister, are you leaving?”
“What’s it to you?” I said, not looking up from folding a t-shirt.
She stepped inside, her voice a soft, conspiratorial whisper. “You don’t have to pretend to be so strong, you know. It must hurt so much, being rejected by your own parents.”
I stopped packing and turned to face her.
“I heard them last night,” she went on, a hint of mock sympathy lacing her voice. “Talking about you moving out. You must have been heartbroken. It’s okay, you can cry if you want to. I won’t tell.”
“You were eavesdropping.” It wasn’t a question.
She smiled sweetly. “I was just passing by. Do you know why they don’t love you, sister?”
I played along, intrigued by her audacity. “Why?”
“Because I’ve been in this family for eighteen years! My pictures are on every wall, my trophies fill the cabinets. They remember every single one of my birthdays. And you,” she paused for dramatic effect, “you are a blank slate. A stranger.”
“And?”
She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a hiss. “There’s no room for you here. Even if you’re the real one, you’re still just… extra.”
I laughed. So, the mask was already coming off.
“Holly,” I whispered back, mirroring her tone, “do you know what DNA is?”
She blinked, confused.
“It’s proof of blood. It doesn’t matter how many years you lived here, or how many of your pictures are on the wall. You will always be the fake. And me,” I pointed a thumb at my chest, “I don’t have to do a single thing to be the real one.”
The color drained from her face.
“Also,” I said, grabbing my suitcase, “who told you I was moving out? I’m just going to my university to pick something up. This is my house. Why would I leave?”
I dragged my suitcase downstairs and ran right into Ethan, who was on his way out for the day. He saw my bag and frowned. “Where are you going?”
“Campus.”
“I’ll drive you.”
“Not necessary.”
“I said, I’ll drive you,” he insisted, his tone leaving no room for argument.
I shrugged. Fine.
The car ride was tense and silent. Just as we were nearing the university, he finally spoke. “About last night… don’t take it to heart.”
“Okay.”
“Mom and Dad don’t dislike you. It’s just… Holly’s condition really is delicate. They worry.”
“Okay.”
“Can you stop just saying ‘okay’?” he snapped, his frustration boiling over.
I turned to him, my expression unreadable. “What would you like me to say? ‘Oh, it’s fine, Ethan, I completely understand’? Or maybe, ‘I’ll be sure to take extra special care of poor, fragile Holly’?”
He rubbed his temples, a gesture of pure exasperation. “Can’t you just be normal?”
“What’s normal?” I shot back. “Faking a heart attack every time you don’t get your way? Crying at the drop of a hat? Is that your definition of normal?”
“Holly doesn’t fake it!” he insisted, his jaw tight.
I could have rolled my eyes, but I kept them fixed on him. “Ethan, are you genuinely stupid, or just pretending to be? Do you really think someone having a cardiac episode can time it perfectly to interrupt an argument and still manage to look tragically beautiful while doing it?”
His hands tightened on the steering wheel until his knuckles were white. “You don’t know the first thing about Holly.”
“You’re right, I don’t,” I said, opening the car door. “But I do know what a real heart condition looks like. My foster mother’s sister had one. When she had an attack, her face turned blue and she couldn’t even speak, let alone weep dramatically.”
I slammed the door shut, leaving him sitting there, stewing in the driver’s seat. I saw in the reflection that he didn’t drive away for a long, long time.

5
My trip to campus was to officially register for my classes. The acceptance letter from Aurelia University was my proudest possession.
After finishing the paperwork, I stopped by the bank. My account held just over twenty thousand dollars, a mix of savings from years of part-time jobs and royalties from my writing.
That was my secret. I was an online author, writing under the pen name “Luna Thirteen.” My genre was gritty, realistic fiction—tearjerkers. My readers often commented on how painfully real my stories felt. They had no idea they were reading chapters of my own life.
As I was about to leave, the bank manager hurried over. “Miss Sterling? A new account was just opened for you. It’s a supplementary card from Mr. Richard Sterling.”
He handed me a sleek, black credit card. I glanced at the credit limit. It had seven figures.
It must be nice to be rich.
I pocketed the card but had no intention of using it.
When I got back to the Sterling mansion, it was lunchtime. At the dining table, Holly was seated next to Helen, the two of them chatting like best friends.
When she saw me, Holly’s face lit up with a saccharine smile. “Sister, you’re back! Come, sit and eat with us.”
I took a seat and noticed my place was set at the far end of the table, isolating me from the family cluster. I also noticed that their plates were fine bone china, while mine was plain ceramic.
The little details always tell the real story.
“Nora,” Helen said suddenly, “Holly’s birthday is next week. We’re planning a large party for her. We’d love for you to be there.”
“It’s my birthday next week, too,” I reminded her.
The air grew thick with a sudden, awkward silence. Of course. Holly and I were born on the same day, in the same hospital. That’s how the switch happened in the first place.
Helen recovered quickly. “Oh! Well… then we’ll celebrate together!”
“That’s not necessary,” Holly said, her voice dripping with false magnanimity. “Sister just got back; she’s probably not used to big, formal events. We should have a party just for me. For Sister’s birthday, we can have a quiet celebration, just the family.”
Translation: a grand, public birthday party is for me, Holly Sterling, the beloved princess. You, Nora, don’t deserve the spotlight.
Richard nodded in agreement. “Holly has a point. Nora has just returned; it’s probably best to keep things low-key for her.”
Ethan chimed in. “Besides, Nora doesn’t seem like the type who enjoys that kind of scene.”
I put down my fork. “You all are truly something else.”
“What’s that, dear?” Helen asked, confused.
“Holly and I have the same birthday. You’re going to throw her a lavish party, invite the city’s elite, and publicly declare her the cherished daughter of the Sterling family. And me? I get a ‘quiet celebration at home’.” I stood up, my voice calm but sharp. “You’re sending a message to everyone that the Sterling family only acknowledges one daughter, and that even though I’m the real one, I’m not fit for public display.”
“You’re overthinking it, Nora. That’s not what we meant,” Richard began to explain.
“That is exactly what you meant,” I interrupted. “But don’t worry. I wouldn’t be caught dead at your stupid party anyway.”
I turned and walked upstairs, leaving them in stunned silence. Behind me, I heard the familiar sound of Holly’s theatrical sobs beginning. “It’s all my fault… I won’t have a party… we can celebrate for Sister instead…” followed by a chorus of comforting murmurs.
The same old play, the same old actors.

6
That night, Helen knocked on my door.
“Nora, may I come in?”
I was reading, and didn’t look up. “It’s open.”
She entered, carrying a bowl of soup. “I had the kitchen make this for you. Please, have some.”
I didn’t take it. “I’m not hungry.”
She placed the bowl on my desk and sat on the edge of my bed. “Nora, I know you’re upset with us.”
“I’m not.”
“Please, just listen to me,” she sighed. “Holly’s poor health is real. She was born with a congenital heart defect. The doctors told us she might not live past twenty.”
I finally looked up at her.
“That’s why we’ve always… spoiled her. We just wanted her to be happy for the time she has left.” Helen’s eyes were red. “Can’t you understand, Nora?”
I looked at her, my gaze unwavering. “So?”
“So… could you please just try to be a little more lenient with her?”
I laughed, a humorless sound. “Mom, let me ask you a question.”
“What is it?”
“If I had been born with a congenital heart defect, would you be asking Holly to be lenient with me?”
Helen stared at me, dumbfounded.
“You wouldn’t,” I answered for her. “Because in your heart, Holly is the daughter you raised for eighteen years. I’m just a stranger who shares your blood.”
“That’s not true!”
I closed my book. “You should go, Mom. I’m tired.”
She looked like she wanted to argue, but in the end, she just picked up the untouched soup and left without another word.
Later that night, I heard the sound of a piano from the room next door. It was Holly, practicing. She was playing “Für Elise.” Badly.
The next morning at breakfast, Holly looked exhausted. “I was up so late practicing the piano last night, I barely slept a wink.”
Helen looked at her with concern. “Don’t push yourself so hard, darling. Your health comes first.”
Ethan placed a piece of bacon on her plate. “Eat up. You need your strength.”
I sipped my juice, saying nothing.
“Sister,” Holly said suddenly, turning to me. “You play the piano too, right?” She knew I had heard her last night. This was a direct challenge.
“A little,” I said flatly.
“Oh, wonderful!” she clapped her hands together with glee. “Could you teach me? There are a few parts I just can’t get right.”
Helen immediately latched on. “Nora, if you have time, you should help your sister.”
I put down my glass. “I don’t have time.”
The mood at the table soured.
Ethan frowned. “What would it hurt to help her for a few minutes?”
“It would waste my time,” I said, standing up. “Her basic technique is all wrong. I have no interest in teaching someone from scratch.”
“How would you know my technique is wrong?” Holly retorted, offended.
I gave her a deadpan look. “In the third bar of ‘Für Elise,’ your fingering is incorrect. In the seventh bar, your rhythm is off. In the eleventh, you failed to control the dynamics. Should I continue?”
The color drained from Holly’s face.
I had only heard her play it once, through a wall, and had memorized every single one of her mistakes.
That’s what you call talent.

7
Three days before the birthday, the house was a flurry of activity. Party planners, florists, and stylists bustled about, all of them focused on Holly. I was invisible, and no one asked me what I wanted or needed. It was peaceful, in a way.
That afternoon, Holly came into my room without knocking. She was holding a small, elegantly wrapped box. “Sister, I got you a birthday present!”
I didn’t look at it. “I don’t want it.”
“Oh, don’t be like that,” she said, perching on my bed. “I truly want us to get along.”
“Do you?”
“Of course!” She opened the box to reveal a delicate diamond necklace. It was a classic design from a luxury brand, probably worth about fifty thousand dollars. Pocket change for the Sterlings. But her claiming it was her “favorite” was what made it interesting. “I’m giving you my favorite necklace.”
“I don’t want it,” I repeated, turning a page in my book.
“Sister,” she said, suddenly grabbing my hand. Her grip was surprisingly strong. “I know you hate me. You hate me for taking your place. But it’s not my fault! I’m a victim in all this, too. I wish I had my real parents.” Her eyes began to well up as she spoke.
I pulled my hand away. “Who’s the audience for this performance?”
Her tears began to fall in earnest. “I’m not performing! Do you have any idea what it’s like? Every time Mom and Dad call me Holly, I wish I was their real daughter. But I’m not! I never will be!”
Right on cue, the door creaked open, and Helen appeared. “Holly, darling, why are you crying?”
Perfect timing.
Holly threw herself into Helen’s arms. “Mom, sister won’t accept my gift! Is it because… because I’m not worthy of giving her one?”
Helen shot me a furious glare. “Nora! Holly was being kind to you. How could you treat her this way?”
I closed my book and spoke slowly and deliberately. “First, I didn’t ask for a gift. Second, I have the right to refuse it. Third, why she’s crying is none of my business.”
“You!” Helen was trembling with rage. “How can you be so cold and heartless!”
Cold and heartless. That was the second time I’d heard that today.
“Mom,” I said, standing up. “Have you ever stopped to wonder why Holly only ever seems to have these dramatic crying spells when you’re about to walk into the room?”
“What are you implying?”
“I’m implying she’s putting on a show,” I said, walking towards the door. “She knew what time you’d be coming to my room, so she came here beforehand with her little gift, ready to burst into tears the second you opened the door. Her goal was to make you think I’m bullying her.”
Helen shook her head in disbelief. “Holly would never do something like that!”
“Believe what you want,” I said, pushing past them. “Excuse me. I need to get out of here.”
As I reached the top of the stairs, I glanced back. Holly, still nestled in Helen’s arms, looked over her mother’s shoulder and shot me a triumphant, teary-eyed smile.
I smiled back.
I’ve seen this cheap little trick a thousand times before.

8
The day before my birthday, a package arrived for me. It was from Aurelia University, with my class schedule and dorm assignment. I had applied for early move-in. I could be out of here next week. Perfect.
That evening, relatives started to arrive for Holly’s party the next day. They all swarmed around Holly, cooing over how beautiful and talented she was. No one paid any attention to me in the corner.
Until an elderly woman with a stern face approached me. “You must be Nora.”
I looked up. It was Richard’s mother, my grandmother.
“Grandma,” I said, standing up.
She looked me up and down, her eyes critical. “Well, you certainly look like a Sterling.” The phrasing was subtle. I looked like one, but that didn’t mean I was one.
“I hear you’ve had a difficult life,” she said.
“It was manageable.”
“Manageable?” she scoffed. “I heard all about your foster parents. What kind of person can a child from that environment possibly grow up to be?”
I looked at her calmly. “You’re right, Grandma. I didn’t turn out to be much.”
She blinked, clearly not expecting me to agree with her.
“Not like Holly,” I continued, my voice sweet as poison. “Raised like a princess, a master of piano and dance. By the way, which university did she get into again?”
The old woman’s face soured. Holly’s acceptance into a third-rate college was a sore spot for the family.
“Your granddaughter might not have turned out to be much,” I said, smiling, “but I got lucky. I was accepted into Aurelia University.” I paused. “The number one university in the country. You’ve heard of it, right?”
Her face was turning a blotchy red. “You—!”
“Grandma, don’t be angry,” Holly said, appearing at the perfect moment to support her wilting grandmother. “Sister didn’t mean it.”
“See? Holly is always so considerate,” the old woman said, patting Holly’s hand before shooting me one last withering look and walking away.
Holly turned to me, her brow furrowed with concern. “Sister, why did you have to upset Grandma?”
“I was just telling the truth.”
“But—”
“Holly,” I interrupted. “Aren’t you tired?”
“What?”
“Pretending to be the perfect, obedient girl for eighteen years. Doesn’t it get exhausting?” I leaned in close. “I know what you are.”
Her expression flickered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sister.”
“It’s better if you don’t,” I said, turning and walking away.

9
On the morning of our birthday, the Sterling mansion was a scene of controlled chaos. Makeup artists and hair stylists buzzed around Holly, transforming her into a princess. I was in my room, packing the last of my things to move into the dorm.
Helen knocked and entered. “Nora, aren’t you going to get ready?”
“Ready for what?”
“For the party tonight.”
I looked up at her. “I thought you said I didn’t have to attend.”
“Well, not attend, exactly, but…” she stammered, embarrassed. “You could watch from upstairs. And come down for some food if you get hungry.”
Ah. So I was to be hidden away, kept out of sight of the guests.
“I understand.”
Helen looked relieved and turned to leave.
“Mom,” I called out. She stopped. “Have you ever thought that if the switch had never happened, I would be the one downstairs in the beautiful dress, surrounded by everyone?”
Her body went rigid.
“And Holly would be somewhere in a small town, worrying about how to pay for college.”
“Nora…”
“I’m not trying to steal her party,” I said with a small, sad smile. “I just want you to understand how strange fate can be.”
Helen fled from the room as if escaping a fire.
At seven p.m., the guests began to arrive. I watched from my third-floor window as luxury cars streamed into the driveway, depositing the wealthiest and most powerful people in the city. Holly, in a custom-made gown, glided through the crowd, accepting accolades like a true queen.
Richard gave a speech, calling her the Sterling family’s most beloved treasure. Ethan gifted her a brand-new sports car. Helen presented her with a stunning set of jewels. For Holly, her eighteenth birthday was a fairytale.
I remembered my last birthday. I had spent it in the back kitchen of the diner where I worked. The owner, taking pity on me, gave me a day-old cupcake.
I pulled out my phone, logged into my “Luna Thirteen” account, and posted a status: It’s my birthday today. Happy birthday to me.
Within seconds, the comments poured in.
Happy birthday, Luna!
Author, when’s the next book coming out? Happy birthday!
Happy birthday! We’ll always support you!
I smiled. See? Someone remembered my birthday. Even if they didn’t know who I really was.

10
I was scrolling through the comments when my door opened. It was Ethan, holding a small cake with a single candle. “Happy birthday.”
I looked at him, surprised.
He looked uncomfortable. “Don’t get the wrong idea. Mom sent me.”
The cake was tiny. The frosting just said “Happy Birthday,” without even a name.
“Thanks,” I said, taking it from him.
He lingered in the doorway. “You’re not angry?”
“About what?”
“About… downstairs.”
“That’s Holly’s party. It has nothing to do with me,” I said, opening the cake box. “I don’t care about any of that.”
He frowned. “Can’t you just act normal for once?”
I looked up at him. “What’s normal? Throwing a tantrum and demanding to be the center of attention? Is that what you want?”
He was silent.
“Ethan,” I said, meeting his eyes. “Do you know why I worked so hard to get into Aurelia University?”
“Why?”
“Because I knew I had to rely on myself.” I took a bite of the cake. It was sickeningly sweet. “I don’t need the Sterlings’ charity. I don’t need your pity. And I certainly don’t need you to ‘cut me some slack.’ I have hands, and I have a brain. I can make my own way in this world.”
He just stared at me.
“So stop looking at me like I’m some pathetic creature you need to feel sorry for,” I said with a small smile. “I, Nora Sterling, am not pitiful.”
After a long silence, he finally asked, “Do you hate us?”
I shook my head. “Hate requires an emotional connection. We don’t have one.”
The words hit him like a physical blow. His face paled, and he turned and left. At the door, he paused. “You know, Nora, you’re too rational. You don’t act like an eighteen-year-old girl.”
I looked out the window at the glittering city lights. “I stopped being a girl when I was ten.”
The year I turned ten, my foster father brought his gambling buddies home for the first time. When he lost, he tried to shove me towards them, to pour their drinks and entertain them.
From that day on, I knew I had to be strong, had to be rational. Because no one was ever going to protect me.
After Ethan left, I finished the entire cake by myself. It was so sweet it made my teeth ache.
The party music from downstairs didn’t stop until the early hours of the morning.

11
The next day, I moved into my dorm at Aurelia University. The only people home when I left were the maids. Richard and Helen had taken Holly to the hospital, claiming she was suffering from post-party excitement that had stressed her heart. Ethan was at the office. It was better that way. No goodbyes necessary.
My dorm was a quad, and I was the first to arrive. After unpacking, I went to the library. It was enormous, a temple of knowledge with millions of books. I found a quiet corner, opened my laptop, and started writing a new story. This time, I decided, it would have a happy ending. Even if I couldn’t have one in real life, I could create one on the page.
I wrote until evening, when my phone rang. It was Helen. “Nora, where are you? You’re not at home.”
“I moved into my dorm.”
“What? Why didn’t you tell us?”
“Would it have mattered if I did?”
The line went silent.
“Just take good care of Holly,” I said. “I’m fine.” I hung up and went back to writing.
When I got back to my room, my roommates had arrived. They were three friendly, normal girls. One of them looked at me with a flash of recognition. “Wait, aren’t you that… the Sterling girl?”
“Yeah,” I said, knowing what she meant. The story of the long-lost Sterling heiress had made a few headlines.
“Then why are you living in a dorm?” another roommate asked, curious.
“The house was a little crowded,” I said vaguely. They took the hint and changed the subject.
That night, lying in my narrow dorm bed, listening to the sound of their laughter and chatter, I felt a sense of peace I hadn’t felt in a long time. Here, I wasn’t the real daughter or the replacement. I was just Nora, a freshman at Aurelia University.

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