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My mom told me I was the real heiress. Then she dumped me back at the Thorne estate. But the second I walked through the door, my so-called brothers lined up in front of the fake daughter like a human shield. "Annie's the only sister we've got. Don't even think about replacing her." My rich new parents stuck me in the maid's quarters and warned me not to cause trouble. Everyone assumed I'd come home to fight for scraps of affection against the fake heiress. So when they found out I didn't share a single drop of blood with my father, they slapped a paternity test down on the table and told me to get out. "The Thorne family will not tolerate some bastard polluting our bloodline!" That's when I calmly pulled out a second paternity test. "I'm not the daughter you lost. But my mom is." I looked at the man who'd pretended to be my father and smiled, sweet as sugar. "By the way, Uncle — have you ever run a paternity test with Grandpa and Grandma Thorne?" Chapter 1 The second I stepped through the doors of the Thorne estate, I caught a few nasty looks aimed my way. In the living room, a middle-aged couple and three young men were crowded around the sofa, fussing over the girl in the middle of it. Their contemptuous eyes grazed me for half a second before snapping right back to her. The lady of the house pulled the girl into her arms like her heart was breaking. "Annie, sweetheart, stop crying. Mom can't take it." "You grew up in this house. We've spoiled you rotten for twenty years. You really think we'd let some girl raised out in the middle of nowhere—some girl we don't know a thing about—replace you?" Annie Thorne wiped at her tears, her voice small and pitiful. "But she's the real daughter. I'm not a Thorne by blood, not really. If she and I ever butt heads, you and the boys are going to side with her in the end." "Maybe I should just do the smart thing now. Leave on my own before you have to throw me out." Her oldest brother, Sebastian Thorne, knitted his brows together, looking gutted. "How can you even think that? We've been a family for decades. You really think some country girl could ever take your place in our hearts?" Preston Thorne, the second brother, jumped in right behind him. "I'm telling you right now—no matter what happens, you're the only sister we've got. That Hazel Gale may share our DNA, but she's a stranger to us. End of story." Jasper Thorne, the youngest brother, went one step further and shot me a vicious glare. "Exactly! And if she tries to pull the 'real daughter' card and push you around, I swear to God I'll make her regret ever coming back!" Their father, Marcus Thorne, didn't so much as glance at me, but every word out of his mouth was a warning shot. "Under this roof, you follow this family's rules. As long as I'm the head of the Thorne family, nobody is going to bully the only princess this house has ever had!" Watching the four of them put on their little show, I almost laughed. I hadn't said a single word, and they'd already scripted an entire movie in their heads where I was the villain tormenting Annie. Everyone was too busy consoling her to bother with me. Force of habit kicked in, and I started studying their faces. Years of sketching suspects for the Major Crimes Unit had left me with a permanent case of professional brain. Marcus Thorne had double-lidded eyes, a bulbous garlic nose, a square jaw, and a short, stocky build. He looked like a stone pillar. His three sons? Single-lidded eyes. Narrow noses. Long, slim faces. They looked like bicycle seats. All three faces read sharp as tacks, and every one of them was tall and lean. The longer I looked, the less any of it added up. Fine, so Annie wasn't his real daughter. I already knew that. But how in the world did dear old Dad's three biological sons look nothing like him either? How does a wild boar end up fathering three skinny whippets? Chapter 2 While I was still puzzling it over, the whole family fussed and cooed until Annie finally stopped crying and smiled. Then their attention swung to me. My so-called mother, Fiona Zhou, looked me up and down like I was something she'd found on the bottom of her shoe. "You're Hazel. The one Grandmother sent for." I snapped back to attention and nodded. That wasn't the reaction she wanted. "Walks in and doesn't even greet her elders. Of course. Raised in the sticks. No manners at all." I opened my mouth to answer, but she waved her hand, impatient, and barked at the housekeeper. "Mrs. Walsh. Take her to the room next to the kitchen. Find her any empty one." The rooms next to the kitchen were the servants' quarters. Then Fiona drew herself back up into her grande-dame posture and said, flat and cold, "Whatever you were before, I don't care. But now that you're under the Thorne roof, you'll drop every one of those cheap country habits of yours." Marcus Thorne added, his voice low and heavy, "The Thornes aren't like those old-blood families. In this house, love matters, not DNA. Annie is our only daughter. Our only treasure." "And if you dare pull any of that gutter-trash scheming to steal attention in this house, don't expect me to spare you for Grandmother's sake. I'll put you back on a bus to the country myself." I didn't answer. I just stared at their faces. The longer I looked, the less it made sense. Their bone structure and mine — we didn't line up on a single point. Not one. How could I possibly be their child? My staring was starting to unsettle them. Marcus raised his voice. "Did you hear me?!" Annie furrowed her delicate brow and spoke up, soft and worried, like she actually cared, "Mom, I heard that kids from the slums grow up sick all the time. Fevers they can't afford to treat. A lot of them end up with brain damage." "Do you think maybe… my sister might have that problem?" As she said it, she tapped her own temple, and shot me a look that was pure venom and taunt. Fiona heard her and the disgust in her eyes doubled. She flapped her hand like she was swatting a fly. "Mrs. Walsh. Are you deaf? Get her out of my sight." Her three sons and Annie all stared at me, smug, enjoying the show. The cruelty in their faces could have been stamped from the same mold as Fiona's. Forget appearances — their personalities and mine ran in opposite directions too. Now I was certain: I wasn't born to these people. Something inside me settled. I turned and followed Mrs. Walsh toward the servants' quarters. Fiona's voice drifted after me, dripping with distaste. "That Hazel looks exactly like Grandmother. Just seeing her puts me in a mood." Then her tone turned sugary as she cooed at Annie, "Nothing like my sweet Annie. You're the one who makes me happy." Their voices faded behind me. I didn't feel a thing. A family where not a single member shares a resemblance — that's rare anywhere in the world. Short of inbreeding or some wild genetic mutation, I couldn't come up with a single reason a child would share zero features with her own father. If I wanted to crack this case, I'd have to stay. And dig until I found out what the hell was going on in this house. Chapter 3 Word around the estate was that the grandmother had pressured the Thornes into cutting a check to get me into a top local university. Same class as Annie. What I didn't count on was how fast she'd make her move. I'd barely started school before she was already stirring the pot. Eight a.m. lecture. The second I stepped through the classroom door, I felt every pair of eyes lock onto me. Annie was up at the front, whispering something to our academic advisor. The moment she spotted me, the tears came right on cue. "Sis, if you wanted the gold medal for this competition, all you had to do was ask. I would've let you have it." "I know you resent me for taking your place all those years, for getting all the advantages that should've been yours. But that wasn't my choice to make…" "I'd give it all back to you if I could. So why would you stoop this low? Why would you steal something that belongs to me?" Right on schedule, the looks around me curdled into disgust. From my very first day on campus, Annie had been dropping hints about who I was — casually, strategically — while casting herself as the sweet, wounded victim. I had to hand it to her. The act was working. The advisor turned her laptop screen toward me. The winners list was pulled up, and sure enough, the name in first place was mine. Except I'd never entered the competition. The advisor's voice dripped with contempt. "Hazel. Would you care to explain why your name is on the piece Annie submitted?" I spread my hands, honest as could be. "She's the one who turned it in. How would I know?" She let out a cold little laugh. "Our department has standards. Plagiarism is absolutely not tolerated here." She pulled out her phone and started typing. "Annie, sweetheart, don't you worry. I'm contacting the dean and the competition judges right now. We're going to get justice for you." That set the whole room buzzing. Students started nudging each other, trading looks, murmuring. "So the advisor's basically going to have her expelled, right?" "Country girls. No sense of the real world. Cheating in a national sketching competition? The nerve on her." "And she stole from Annie, of all people. Does she not know Annie's ranked number one in our major?" Someone scoffed. "What would she know? Her parents bought her way in. You think she can even draw?" "The Thornes are an artistic dynasty. But this Hazel girl — she can't paint, and she doesn't look a thing like any of them." "Maybe the family got it wrong. Maybe she's not the long-lost Thorne daughter at all." Not their daughter? And who exactly told them I couldn't draw? I almost laughed. I didn't bother correcting anyone. But Annie's head snapped around, her eyes boring straight into my face. Like she'd just figured out something big. Something dangerous. Her eyes lit up. I watched her slip out her phone and fire off a few quiet messages. Chapter 4 Half an hour later, the dean, the contest judges, and the Thornes had all arrived. A handful of officers from the precinct trailed in behind them. The classroom was suddenly packed wall to wall. "Who called it in?" Detective Anderson Chase, leading the team from the precinct, swept his eyes across the room. When they spotted me, every one of them froze. "Agent Ga—" I gave the tiniest shake of my head. Annie had gone through so much trouble staging this little production. It would be a shame not to let her finish the show. They caught my signal and went quiet. "I made the call!" The academic advisor shot me a smug look, then flung out his arm and jabbed a finger at me. "This student stole another student's painting and submitted it to the contest. She's dragging this school's name through the mud!" "I was willing to look the other way when her family pulled strings to get her admitted." "But pulling a stunt like this? Disgracing the whole institution? I can't cover for that." The Thornes went red in the face. They glared at me with the look reserved for hopeless disappointments. Not one of them opened their mouth in my defense. A few administrators turned toward the advisor, startled. The dean parted his lips to speak — and Anderson casually clamped a hand on his shoulder and steered him back, cutting the mic. "Her? Stole someone's painting?" Anderson couldn't hold back a laugh. "Whose painting did she supposedly steal?" The advisor, Annie, and everyone else in the room went blank at the sudden laugh. Annie hesitated for a few seconds before stepping forward to claim it. "It was mine." Then came the fake plea on my behalf. "Hazel is the sister my parents brought home. She did pick up some bad habits out there, I know." "But she's still my sister. I'll vouch for her. She won't do it again, I promise." "I'm begging — please, give her a chance to turn things around. Don't put a mark on her record." Every word earnest. Every sentence a shield for me. The Thornes were visibly moved. Fiona walked over and pulled her into a tender embrace. "My sweet Annie. You're just too kindhearted for your own good." Marcus cleared his throat and weighed in. "Officer, handle this by the book. The Thorne family does not shield criminals." Reading the room, the advisor chimed right in. "Miss Thorne, your family has sheltered you from the ugly side of people. You don't know how cruel the world can be." "If you ask me, a student as morally bankrupt as Hazel should be expelled outright." The other students in the classroom whipped themselves into righteous indignation. "Exactly! We don't want a thief as a classmate!" "This time she stole from her own sister. Who knows who she'll hit next?" "We demand she be kicked out!" They worked themselves up into a frenzy, too caught up to notice the dean's face had gone ashen. Anderson listened to the whole performance, nodding along like he agreed with every word, then turned to me with a teasing glint in his eye. "Miss Gale. Any objections?" "Because if you've got nothing to say for yourself, you might as well come down to the station with us." Chapter 5 Annie thought she had it in the bag. She shot me a smug little look. I let out a long sigh, ready to shut this circus down. "Fine. It's not that complicated." "Pull up Annie's paintings. Send them to Forensics. Run the signatures and prints." The second I finished, Anderson drawled out, "Huh? You're actually running it?" He arched a brow, laying it on thick. "Seems like a waste of department resources, Officer Gale." Officer. The word dropped and the whole classroom went dead silent. Annie visibly glitched for a few seconds. The advisor's eyes slowly widened. She turned her head toward him in slow motion. "…What did you just call her?" Anderson flashed her a grin. "Hazel's a criminal profiler on loan from the capital. Two years ago she graduated top of the nation from the National Academy of Fine Arts." The dean shot the advisor a furious glare. "And that's not all. Ms. Gale is a judge on the national panel for this sketch competition. She's our academy's guest lecturer for next semester!" Anderson: "So she's going to steal someone else's submission? A painting from some dinky campus contest?" He let out an ambiguous little snort and turned to Annie, whose face was going paler by the second. His tone dripped with mockery. "Sis. Were you top of the nation too?" Annie's face was sheet-white. The words came out before she could stop them. "How could she be?! She's some country girl they dragged back from the sticks—where would she even learn to paint?!" She caught the room staring at her in shock and realized she'd just dropped the mask. Her voice dropped instantly, backpedaling. "I…I mean, my sister never had the chance to study under a master growing up. Isn't there maybe some kind of mistake?" Anderson rolled his eyes. "Genius is literally in her DNA. Not like you—zero talent." Annie looked like she was about to cough up blood. Then, out of nowhere, something clicked. She'd latched onto a word he'd said. Something lit up behind her eyes. She yanked out her phone and checked her messages. The spark came right back. She waved the phone at me, triumphant. "Hazel, so what if you've got talent?" "I texted the housekeeper back home. Told her to grab the hair off your brush and Mom and Dad's hair and run a paternity test." My heart skipped. I looked at her, caught off guard. Annie saw my expression and her smile stretched wider. "I paid several times the normal fee to rush the results through the hospital. Guess what it says?" "You're not Mom and Dad's real daughter at all!"

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