The Impostor's Throne

I had been a Prescott for eighteen years when a girl claiming to be the real Prescott daughter threw herself in front of our car.

She lay sprawled on the asphalt, her sobs a theatrical performance meant for an audience of our tinted windows. Between gasps, she accused me, the impostor, of stealing the life that should have been hers.

After the DNA test, my own brother, who’d never shown me a shred of genuine affection, suddenly became her staunchest ally. Together, they twisted truths into lies, painting me as the villain in a story I hadn’t even known I was in.

In my last life, their campaign of whispers and accusations worked. My father, his face a mask of fury, cast me out of the family. When I returned to my supposed birth family, the Moores, their eyes held nothing but contempt for me. It didn’t end there. Ivy, the real daughter, sent men to break what was left of me, over and over again. Unable to bear it, I stepped off the edge of a skyscraper and let the city swallow me whole.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on that same day, with Ivy blocking our car.

I saw the raw hatred in her eyes, the same hatred that had haunted my final moments. I took a breath, my voice steady.

"Then let's all get a DNA test."

1

"What are you trying to say?" Ivy shot back, her face flushed with anger. "Are you saying I'm a liar? Or are you just so entitled you can't accept that I'm the one who was supposed to have your life?"

Beside me, Carter was slouched in his seat, scrolling on his phone. "This is such a drag," he muttered. "Finding out my sister is a fake on a Tuesday."

I shrugged, turning my gaze to the man in the front passenger seat. "Father, I think it's best for everyone if we all get tested. That way, there’s no room for doubt. The science doesn't lie."

My father was silent for a long moment, his stony profile reflected in the window. Then, a curt nod. "Audrey is right. You," he said, gesturing vaguely at Ivy, "will come with us. You'll both be tested."

With his verdict delivered, I said nothing more. I simply shifted closer to my mother, making room for Ivy to climb into the car. I knew how this family worked. Father was the judge, jury, and executioner. No matter how shocked my mother was, no matter how her heart might bleed for this girl claiming to be her long-lost child, she would always defer to him.

Ivy scrambled up from the pavement and slid into the car. She was covered in dust, her frame so thin she looked like a strong wind could snap her in two. The grime of her journey clung to her, and I saw my mother’s brow furrow for a split second before she leaned away, pressing herself against the opposite window.

We arrived at the hospital—the Prescott Wing, to be precise. As the phlebotomist prepared the needles, Ivy looked at my mother with wide, pleading eyes, a silent beg for comfort.

But she misjudged her audience. My mother was a Prescott, raised on silk and silver spoons. She had never encountered anyone who looked like Ivy. Without the certainty of a blood tie, all she could feel was a vague revulsion, not a flicker of maternal sympathy.

"Audrey Prescott!" Ivy hissed at me, her voice low and sharp. Then her expression shifted, morphing into a sneer of arrogant certainty. "Just wait until those results come back. You'll see what I do to you."

I didn’t answer. My heart was hammering against my ribs. This was a gamble. I was betting that I was also a Prescott. That the child the Moores had swapped into this life of luxury wasn't me.

In my past life, it had always puzzled me. When I returned to the Moores, I’d tried my best. I never complained about their small, rural house. I helped with chores, with the farm work, trying to earn my place. But it never mattered. Their gazes were always cold, tinged with a resentment I couldn't understand. I assumed it was because I’d been thrown out by the Prescotts, penniless and disgraced.

But one night, Mr. Moore got drunk. He stumbled into the living room and pointed a slurring finger at me. "Thank God it was you who came back," he'd mumbled, before his wife rushed in, her eyes wide with panic, and clamped a hand over his mouth.

That’s when I knew something was wrong. But by the time I tried to investigate, Ivy had already blocked every path, ensuring I was trapped, powerless, in that forgotten town.

This time, I was back. And I was willing to bet everything, even if I was wrong.

Because my father had invested heavily in this hospital, the results that should have taken days were ready in under an hour. When the doctor emerged holding the files, Ivy rushed toward him.

"Doctor, what does it say?"

The doctor ignored her, addressing my father directly. "Mr. Prescott, the results are in. This report confirms that Ms. Ivy Moore is, indeed, your and Mrs. Prescott's biological daughter."

Ivy’s eyes shot to mine, gleaming with triumph. A second later, the look vanished, replaced by a mask of tearful vulnerability as she turned to my mother. "Mom, Dad… I finally found you."

My mother’s composure finally cracked. She pulled Ivy into a hug, her voice thick with emotion. "My dear girl. You must have suffered so much."

Carter shoved me aside, rushing to Ivy's side. "So you're my real sister! I knew it! The first time I saw you, I felt a connection. Nothing like her." He jerked his head in my direction.

My father’s expression remained unreadable, but I saw a flicker of something—pity, perhaps—in his eyes.

I stood my ground, my voice calm as I looked at the doctor. "What about the other report?"

Ivy spoke up quickly. "It's already been proven that I'm their daughter. We don't need to see yours." She tried to pull away from my mother's embrace, but the doctor was faster. He placed both reports directly into my father’s hands.

"This report," the doctor stated clearly, "shows that Ms. Audrey Prescott is also your and Mrs. Prescott's biological daughter."

"What? That's impossible! You must have made a mistake!" Ivy’s face twisted into a mask of rage, her shriek echoing down the sterile, empty hallway.

My father scanned the papers, his brow furrowed. "Doctor, what does this mean?"

"Mr. Prescott, the equipment you funded for this lab is state-of-the-art. There is no possibility of error. The reports show that both young women are your biological daughters. The results are conclusive."

"Audrey Prescott! This was you, wasn't it!" Ivy looked feral, breaking free from my mother’s arms and lunging for me. "You paid him off! You bribed the doctor!"

I flinched back, looking at my father with wide, wounded eyes. "Father, I didn't… you know I would never have the courage to do something like that."

My father's face hardened as he looked at Ivy. "That is enough. This behavior is unbecoming."

His sharp tone made Ivy freeze, her hands dropping away from my collar. I nearly stumbled.

"Audrey has always been a well-behaved child," he continued, his voice cold as steel. "Top of her class. She is not capable of such a thing. I know my daughter."

Vindicated, I lowered my head and smoothed the wrinkles Ivy had made in my dress. He despised public displays of disorder.

"Mom only had two children," Ivy muttered, her mind racing. "If I'm her daughter, and Audrey is too… does that mean Carter isn't?"

Her words were a spark in the dark. Of course. That's why the Moores hated me. Their ambition was bigger than I ever imagined. They hadn't just swapped a daughter out; they'd swapped their son in.

I immediately seized the opening. "Maybe… we should test Carter, too."

"Are you insane, Audrey?" Carter, who had been enjoying the show, finally snapped to attention. "Just because you managed to stay a Prescott, you’re going to drag me into this?"

I looked at him, my expression one of pure innocence. "But we're twins, Carter. Born at practically the same time. If it could happen to one of us, it could have happened to you, too."

Carter laughed, a short, ugly sound. "No one is that stupid. To swap a boy for a girl."

But my father wasn't listening to him. A businessman never overlooks a potential liability. I heard him give the doctor a quiet, firm order.

"Draw his blood."

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