Chapter 2
Evelyn's POV
Fever kept me in bed for three days.
I kept the door locked. Maids left cold meals outside, knocked twice, left. Downstairs was loud—everyone preparing for Jane's prom.
Nobody checked on me.
Not until day three, when Mom knocked: "Evelyn... prom's coming up. Want to go pick out a dress? We could go to your favorite store..."
The old me would have been thrilled.
Shopping with Mom, arm in arm, listening to her help me choose—that was the dream I'd clung to.
But now...
"No, thanks." My voice came out raspy.
Silence outside the door. Then a sigh and fading footsteps.
Prom day afternoon, the fever broke.
I dragged myself downstairs. At the landing, I found Dad fastening a diamond necklace around Jane's neck.
"Look at you. All grown up." He stepped back, admiring her. "Thank God for you."
I knew that necklace. Grandma's. Supposed to go to the eldest daughter. Me.
"Turn around, let Mom see the dress." Mom adjusted Jane's hem, sighing. "You know, we should really thank that hospital mix-up. If they hadn't switched you, how would we have gotten such a sweet daughter?"
"Exactly," Dad agreed. "That mistake was the best thing that could have happened."
My parents were GRATEFUL for that mistake.
The mistake that cost me fifteen years. That nearly killed me. In their eyes, this was "the best thing"?
"Jane looks stunning!" The maids crowded around. "THAT'S what a lady looks like!"
I remembered their words: "You'll never be Jane." "Know your place."
Now they were proving it.
My stomach turned. I headed back upstairs to change—not because I wanted to go, but because if I didn't, I'd be called "difficult" and "ungrateful" again.
I'd just pulled off my pajama top when the door burst open.
Mom stood there holding a garment bag, a placating smile on her face.
Then she saw my bare back.
"Oh my God—"
She gasped. The bag nearly slipped from her hands.
The dim lighting before hadn't shown it, but now in bright daylight, the damage was horrific—glass cuts scabbed over, massive bruises blooming purple-black, skin rotted from seawater still weeping blood.
She finally saw what I'd been through on that sinking yacht.
"Evelyn... you..." Her lips trembled.
"I'm changing," I said flatly. "Can you leave?"
"No—your injuries are THIS bad? Why didn't you SAY anything?" She tried to approach.
"I did." I pulled on a T-shirt and faced her. "First day back. I stood in the living room covered in wounds. Everyone SAW."
Her face went white. "But... we thought..."
"Thought I was just dirty?" My voice went cold. "Right. Jane didn't even break a nail. Your biological daughter could be dying and that's fine, yeah?"
She choked.
"That night was really an accident... Everything was chaos, we panicked..." She took a deep breath, lifting the garment bag. "So Mom got you THIS, to make up for it—limited edition from Paris Fashion Week. I pulled so many strings..."
Once, I would've been grateful for these crumbs.
But now, I just took it and put it on.
The dress was gorgeous. But obviously several sizes too big. Straps hung loose on my thin shoulders, the waist gaped, making me look even more haggard.
And—
The hem was embroidered with a cursive "J."
Jane's initial.
Mom followed my gaze. Her face drained of color.
"Oh God! I'm so sorry!" She covered her mouth, voice shaking. "The boutique mixed it up! I specifically said it was for you—I'll have them send the right one now!"
She fumbled for her phone.
"Don't bother." I stripped off the dress and tossed it on the bed. "I'll wear my own."
"No, Evelyn, let Mom explain—" She searched my face for pain, for anger—anything she could fix to feel like a good mother again.
But she found nothing.
I just calmly changed into a black dress. "Let's go. Don't keep Jane waiting."
Downstairs, Jane wore a champagne gown and that necklace that should have been mine, laughing with Dad.
Seeing us, she rushed over beaming: "Evelyn! You're finally up!"
She hurried forward with a perfume box. "Evelyn, I got you a special gift! Try it and see if you like it!"
I took it. Said nothing.
Mom immediately jumped in: "Evelyn, Jane put real thought into this! She picked it out specially when we went to France for Christmas. Try it—"
The words barely left her mouth.
Dad's face changed. He elbowed Mom hard.
Mom realized her slip. Her face went white. "I... I mean..."
Christmas trip to France.
That was when I'd just gotten back from my internship, found the house locked up tight, completely empty. I'd called them. They'd all claimed "business trips."
I'd spent an entire week alone in that empty mansion.
Living on takeout, watching neighbors' Christmas lights through the windows, waiting for them to come home.
It wasn't business trips. It was a family vacation. For three.
I should have known.
Mom panicked: "Evelyn, it was really last-minute... We were going to invite you..."
"Right, right," Dad jumped in. "You said your internship was important. We didn't want to disturb you..."
"It's fine," I cut them off, putting the perfume back down. "At least I got a souvenir."
