The Wild Truth: I Exposed My Fake Sister

The day after my wealthy biological family retrieved me, I was shoved into this helicopter.

Julian, my biological brother, cut off my mic and shoved an iPad right into my face. On the screen, the grandmother from my orphanage lay in a hospital bed, intubated and reliant on a ventilator.

"The appearance fee gets wired into the hospital's account daily," he said, staring down at me. "For the next fourteen days, you gutter rat, you'd better play your part as Serena's foil. Try to steal her spotlight, and I pull the plug."

I nodded.

Ten minutes later, the chopper landed. The global livestream began.

Serena, the fake heiress, wearing a haute couture windbreaker, ran into the frame, panting delicately. "Oh my god, I just naturally forced back a vicious coyote purely with my willpower!"

The live chat instantly flooded the screen:

@wildernessqueen_fan: She is so brave.

@moonlightmia: Nature literally bows down to her.

@justvibes22: Goddess energy.

@rickyoutdoors: Wait, did anyone actually see the wolf? I couldn't spot it.

The director deliberately shoved the camera into my face. "Weren't you scared, facing a wild wolf?"

I kept whittling a wooden stake with my tactical knife, not even bothering to look up.

"No. That was a husky with a reflective anti-lost collar. Your prop team forgot to take off its name tag when they rented the dog in town."

Dead silence hung in the air for three seconds before the chat exploded:

@notfallingforit: Wait, what the hell?

@rickyoutdoors: Ha, caught acting.

@moonlightmia: Nature bows to the prop department.

Serena's smile froze. A second ago, she was still fully immersed in her "Wilderness Goddess" persona.

The crew members desperately tried to suppress their laughter.

The husky incident cracked her facade, and she frantically needed a new script.

"A spirit of nature!" she suddenly gasped. She walked toward a dense patch of broadleaf ferns, scooped up a brilliantly vivid blue tree frog with both hands, and held it up to the lens. "As long as you have a pure love for the wild, little animals will naturally gravitate to you. Growing up at the bottom of the barrel, you've definitely never seen such a clean creature."

The chat split into two factions:

@serenaslays: Her aesthetic is unmatched.

@quietobserver_99: ...Is no one worried that the frog is way too blue?

@ferninthewild: No, but is she actually bare-handing a wild frog???

I stared at the exact spot where her fingertips touched the frog's skin and took two steps back.

Liam stepped into the frame—the "survival consultant" hired by the production team. Serena instantly switched to a fragile, whiny tone. "My hands are tingling a little... Chloe was just watching, she didn't even say a word to warn me. She's just jealous that the animals like me."

@liamsworldtour: Wait, this guy.

@ferninthewild: WHO is that? Forget the frog, I need his resume.

Liam's gaze shot over the crowd and landed on me. Only I caught the mocking lift at the corners of his eyes—a fleeting moment of shared understanding.

"I emphasized before cameras rolled: do not touch brightly colored amphibians," he said, taking a half-step back, his tone strictly professional. "Chloe, what do you think?"

The cameras uniformly pivoted toward me. I drove my tactical knife into the wooden stake and locked eyes with Serena.

"A cobalt blue poison dart frog. Its neurotoxins are already destroying your motor nerves."

"Wh... what does that mean?"

"It means you should start dictating your will right now. Otherwise, by the time the chopper lands, the director will just have to stuff you into a body bag."

The chat completely lost its mind:

@quietobserver_99: She said that with ZERO emotion. Sister really has no chill.

@notfallingforit: Is this show an improvised script??? No way.

She shrieked, flinging the frog away, and collapsed into the mud pit. "Ambulance! Cut the feed!"

The director roared like a madman. The camp instantly descended into absolute chaos.

Production assistants and medical staff rushed forward. Ten minutes later, another medevac helicopter whipped up a violent gale as it landed. The crew frantically hauled a trembling Serena onto a stretcher, and the aircraft lifted off for an emergency evacuation.

As the deafening roar faded into the distance, I felt a glare boring into my back.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?!" Julian hissed, carefully keeping his voice down. "Serena is heading to the ICU right now, and your little stunt today is going to tank her market value!"

I spread my hands. "I wasn't the one who told her to grab the tree frog."

"You think you're smart?" Julian sneered, advancing toward me. "I warned you not to steal her spotlight. By tomorrow morning, I'll have you fired. I'll terminate your contract, and you will personally owe the studio three million dollars in breach penalties. You'll spend the rest of your life burdened with that debt, rotting in your pathetic, miserable slum life."

I reached into my bag, pulled out a neatly folded contract, and tapped my finger against Section 4.2.

"Actually, Julian, the contract stipulates that if the production fires me without any documented violations, the studio is obligated to pay me three million dollars in severance."

I tilted my head. "So, are you firing me? If so, I prefer a direct wire transfer. Checks take too long to clear, and given your stock prices today, I'm not entirely convinced yours wouldn't bounce."

"You better stay in line," Julian growled, "or I swear to God, by eight o'clock tomorrow morning, the payments for the old lady's ventilator will stop."

He turned and stormed off.

I slid my tactical knife back into its sheath just as my phone buzzed in my pocket.