Chapter 2 Chapter Two: Switching Lanes.

Chapter Two: Switching Lanes.

Qiara’s POV:

After confirming that my rebirth was real, I raced back to my room with my heart thundering in my chest. If I truly had another chance—not only to rewrite my life, but to bring the Claybornes to their knees—then I needed a strategy. Before anything else, here’s a brief refresher on the illustrious family I intend to dismantle.

The Claybornes were one of the most prestigious families on the entire Western Continent—practically royalty in Novell. Their influence came largely from my father’s prized creation: a grand orchestra and opera house built by his great‑grandfather. His company had dominated the arts for more than a century, drawing some of the most prestigious musicians and vocalists from across the continent to perform on its stage.

The Imperial Clayborne Opera House.

And their talents didn’t end with business. Nearly every member of the Clayborne bloodline had some kind of artistic gift. They boasted composers, instrumentalists, conductors, and, of course, singers. My three brothers alone spanned the range—one a producer, one a pianist, one a conductor—while my darling sister reigned above them all as their cherished songbird.

Except… here’s the secret most people never learned: Angelina Clayborne is not a true Clayborne. Not by blood.

I was born on October 12th, 2005, at St. Memorial’s Northern Hospital—the very same night Angelina took her first breath. A simple chart mix‑up swapped our lives. She went home with the Claybornes… and I was placed in the arms of the Stones.

My parents, Oliver and Queenie Stone, lived in the countryside. My father had only been in Novell on business, and my mother insisted on accompanying him. That decision changed everything. They took me home, unaware of the switch, and raised me with a love so steady and warm it felt like sunlight. I was their only child, the center of their world. They nurtured every talent I showed—my gift for music, my voice, my compositions, my ability to pick up instruments as though I’d played them in another life.

My childhood was perfect. Idyllic. And then, when I was fourteen, everything shattered.

On the drive home from a piano competition I had just won, a drunk driver slammed into us. My parents died instantly. I spent weeks in the hospital, held together by tubes and grief.

It wasn’t until our bloodwork returned that the truth emerged: we shared no DNA. My grandparents were devastated. The child they had loved since birth… wasn’t truly theirs.

And then came the Claybornes.

After only a few weeks of legal battles, they petitioned for custody—and won. Both Angelina and the Claybornes insisted that they had raised her all her life, while my grandparents were “too old” to raise a teen. The court agreed without hesitation.

Just like that, the life I knew disintegrated. Everything—my home, my family, my identity—was ripped away.

Not wanting to risk upsetting their precious Angelina or exposing the truth, the Claybornes chose to keep our switch a tightly guarded secret. Instead, they paraded me around as some “sponsor child” they had magnanimously rescued from a struggling village. But fate has a cruel sense of humor. I was the one who inherited the genuine “Clayborne talent”, while Angelina had none. She could barely play an instrument, her writing was clumsy, and her voice—mediocre at its absolute best. Still, instead of facing that painful reality, the Claybornes poured thousands into turning her into something she never was. Endless vocal lessons, specialized training, even vocal cord surgery—anything to fashion their perfect little songbird.

Everything went according to their plan… until they discovered “I” possessed the talent they had hoped to manufacture for her. My mother nearly had a heart attack—though, considering she never had a drop of musical skill herself, I suppose she shouldn’t have been surprised. From that moment on, they dedicated themselves to burying my abilities. They tried to dim every spark of promise I showed. Even at StarCrest—where I earned my place through years of hard work, top-tier grades, and an audition piece I’d poured my whole heart into—Angelina was admitted purely through legacy. Once inside, they made sure every opportunity meant for me was redirected to her.

Roles that should have been mine were bought for her. They claimed she had lived her whole life in the arts and that I, despite my “potential,” didn’t understand the sacrifice behind greatness. In my last life, I dreamed of entering the Garden-East competition. I believed it would finally be a chance to show the world my own voice—something they couldn’t manipulate or take away. I was painfully naïve. That was the same year my grandmother fell ill, and my loving father warned that if I dared enter, he would refuse to pay for her treatment. He declared ‘neither’ of us would compete… though Nicholas, of course, had different plans for his darling sister.

Not only did Angelina enter—she won. Naturally, that victory came courtesy of the generous bribes Nicholas and my father slipped to the judging panel. Later, they defended their actions, saying she ‘needed’ that award. Without it, the board might have objected to a non-blood relative being the principal singer. That’s how far they were willing to go for her. Looking back, I wasn’t even angry—at least, not at her. They had raised her their entire life. It made sense they loved her. But why did her love have to be carved out of my suffering? For years, they broke me down mentally, emotionally, and sometimes even physically.

Then came Desmond. I was forced to marry a man who couldn’t stand me, solely because his father wanted an heir who could inherit the Clayborne talent—something two untalented parents couldn’t guarantee. When I refused, they dangled my grandparents’ health over my head once more. And so my life became a gilded cage, every choice suffocated to protect the only family I had left.

But I refuse to fall prey to them again. With this second chance, I will protect myself—and my grandparents—from their claws. This time, I won’t be the one who suffers.

Before anything else, I needed a plan. And the first step was obvious—I had to leave StarCrest. Staying there meant remaining under the Claybornes’ thumb, trapped inside the very institution that had helped suppress my voice the first time around. If I wanted to dismantle their legacy and reclaim my future, I needed distance. I needed power. I needed freedom.

To do that, I would need a sponsor—someone who truly believed in my talent, who recognized my potential and would do whatever it took to help me become the best. There was only one way to secure that kind of backing.

I had to enter the Garden‑East Musical Competition.

I checked the time on my phone. Almost noon. Today was the final day for entries. If I wanted a chance, I had to reach the convention center before five—and make sure I was seen.

First things first: I needed a mailing address the Claybornes couldn’t monitor.

I dressed quickly, settling on a simple blue sundress. Nothing eye‑catching. Nothing that would invite questions about where I’d been. I was just reaching the door when my father’s voice cut through the hall.

“Where are you going?”

The demand in his tone made my spine stiffen.

“I was going to the post office,”

I said evenly.

“Is that alright?”

His brows knit together, jaw tightening.

“Where the hell is all this sass coming from?”

Sass?

In my former life, obedience had been my greatest virtue. It had also been the thing that killed me. Every sacrifice, every bowed head—none of it had saved me. But for now, I would play my part.

“I wasn’t aware I was being sassy, Father. I apologize.”

His expression eased slightly.

“Whatever. We’re taking Angelina out to celebrate. Your errands can wait.”

My heart jolted. I couldn’t afford to miss this.

“I don’t think I need to attend,”

I said carefully.

“After all, I wouldn’t want to make Angelina feel any more guilty than she already does.”

Lawrence’s eyes widened.

“What nonsense is that? Why should she feel guilty?”

This asshole.

My voice dropped, my expression empty.

“For auditioning—even though you ordered neither of us to audition when I begged you to let me.”

Color drained from his face. His mouth opened, then closed again.

“I—”

The words never came. Before he could recover, the rest of the family entered the foyer.

“What’s going on?”

my mother asked coolly.

“Is that girl causing trouble again?”

That girl.

That was all I was to her. An inconvenience.

Before I could respond, Lawrence spoke.

“No, honey. Qiara won’t be joining us. She has something else to do.”

Looks like guilt finally caught up to you.

Angelina’s eyes filled with tears as she stepped forward.

“Is this because of me? I don’t want you to hate me. I should just drop out of—”

“What? No!”

Nicholas snapped.

“Qiara, get your shit together and stop being petty.”

This entire performance was almost laughable.

“Honestly,”

Desmond added, his lip curling,

“you don’t even know if you would’ve been chosen. Stop making your sister feel bad.”

Finally, Lawrence raised his voice.

“That’s enough. Qiara has something important to handle. She’ll celebrate with us another time.”

Silence settled over the room. No one was used to him siding with me.

Selene scoffed but said nothing, turning toward the door. The others followed. Just before she stepped outside, Angelina glanced back.

There it was.

The smugness. The triumph. The quiet glee shining in her eyes.

Smile while you can, Angie,

I thought.

It won’t last.