When I was ten, Chloe ripped up a test paper I’d gotten a perfect score on.

I cried and tried to tape it back together.

My mother passed by and said, “Your sister is pretty. Just let her have her way.”

When I turned twelve, I pretended to run away from home.

I imagined my parents realizing I wasn’t back, panicking, and coming to find me.

They never came.

Late that night, freezing and starving, I had no choice but to go home on my own.

When I got back, they were filming Chloe doing ballet in the living room.

“Finished messing around outside?” my father said without even looking at me.

“I wasn’t messing around,” I said instinctively.

Chloe cut me off with a smile.

“Dad, I literally saw her go into an arcade with some friends.”

It was a lie.

I knew it was a lie.

She knew it was a lie.

But I had no proof.

All I could do was stand there shaking and say, “I didn’t.”

My father’s voice turned impatient.

“Oh please. Why would your sister bother making something like that up?”

My stomach growled so loudly it embarrassed me.

That was when Mrs. Turner rubbed her hands together awkwardly and said,

“Sorry, Miss Eva… I already gave the leftovers to the dog.”

I was so hungry I could barely think.

“Could someone make me a bowl of noodles?” I asked softly.

“No,” my father said coldly. “Your sister has a delicate stomach. That’s why she gets late-night food. What are you trying to compete with?”

“But I…” I started to explain.

My mother cut me off.

“If you stayed out and lost track of time, that’s your own fault. Go to your room.”

That night, Chloe opened my bedroom door.

She stood there chewing potato chips as loudly as she could.

Crunch.

Crunch.

Crunch.

My stomach growled again.

“Want one?” she asked, dangling a chip in front of me.

I swallowed and nodded.

“Then bark for it,” she said. “If you bark like a dog, I’ll give you one.”

My stomach hurt so badly I thought I might throw up.

I closed my eyes and made the sound.

“Woof.”

“Louder,” Chloe said. “I didn’t hear that.”

“Woof!”

She smiled brightly and held out a chip.

The second I reached for it, she dropped it on the floor.

Then stepped right on it with her slipper.

“Oops,” she said. “Sorry. But it’s still edible.”

She tilted her head.

“I mean, little dogs eat things off the floor all the time, don’t they?”

My whole body went hot.

I don’t know where the courage came from, but I lunged at her and grabbed the whole bag of chips out of her hand.

Then I started shoving them into my mouth like I was starving.

Chloe didn’t even try to stop me.

She just watched, smiling.

Then instantly burst into tears.

“Mom! Dad! Eva stole my food!”

When my parents rushed in, she already looked like the victim.

My mother called me greedy.

My father slapped me so hard my ears rang.

Even then, I forced myself to swallow the chips in my mouth.

Because I knew if I spit them out, I’d still get punished and still go hungry.

And I never wanted to feel that kind of hunger again.

But it ended the same way it always did.

They locked me in the basement.

The next morning, they didn’t give me breakfast.

In PE class the next day, the sun was so bright it hurt.

Then I blacked out.

I remember the concrete rushing up at me.

The back of my head hit the ground with a dry crack.

And then there was blood.

2

Now, standing in the school hallway, Mrs. Turner was still stumbling through the speech Chloe had obviously forced her to memorize.

“When you were born… I was going to switch you with the Bennett family’s daughter,” she said shakily. “But I got caught. Mr. and Mrs. Bennett were kind enough to let you stay and raise you anyway…”

Then she forgot the rest, blushing deep red with embarrassment.

I looked at her.

Then, very calmly, I said,

“Mom.”

And I slipped my arm through hers and walked her home.

When we stepped through the front door, my mother frowned, though she was still smiling.

“Well,” Vanessa Bennett said, “looks like Eva found her real mother.”

I nodded.

My father played along instantly.

“In that case,” he said, “you should move out of our house and go back where you belong.”

Before I could even answer, Chloe had already rushed upstairs and packed my things for me.

A second later, she threw my suitcase down the stairs.

“Don’t bother thanking me,” she said.

I looked down at it.

“That’s everything?”

She crossed her arms.

“Well, your clothes were bought with our family’s money. Did you really think you were taking all of them?”

I opened the suitcase and checked.

The important things were inside.

So I closed it.

“I have one more request,” I said.

Chloe’s face tightened immediately.

“What now? If you want money, forget it.”

“I want to be legally removed from this household. No guardianship ties. No family registration. Nothing.”

My mother hesitated.

She looked at my father.

Only after he nodded did she go upstairs to get the paperwork.

And just like that, my legal ties to the Bennett family were cut.

When I looked at that single sheet with only my name on it, the first thing I felt wasn’t fear.

It was relief.

I was about to leave when Chloe blocked the door.

“Wait,” she said. “What about the allowance Mom and Dad gave you? Hand it over.”

I paused and looked at my parents.

They both avoided my eyes.

Chloe folded her arms.

“Come on. Mom and Dad give me fourteen hundred dollars a month. You must’ve gotten plenty too, right?”

I looked at her and said, flatly,

“Chloe, if Mom and Dad had ever given me an allowance, I wouldn’t have gone hungry so many mornings that I passed out at school.”

Then I stepped around her and walked out.

As the front door closed behind me, I heard Chloe sigh dramatically.

“Ugh. Why didn’t she get on her knees and beg? That would’ve been way more fun.”

Then my mother, sounding suddenly uneasy, said,

“Honey… what if Eva really doesn’t come back this time?”

My father turned a page in his newspaper and answered calmly,

“She’ll come back.”

He didn’t even hesitate.

“Once Chloe gets bored, we’ll tell her the truth. I mean, between being the housekeeper’s daughter and being the daughter of a corporate executive, even an idiot knows which life to choose.”