ARIA'S POV
I can't breathe.
The girl—Celeste—is staring at me like I'm a ghost. Like I'm something impossible. Her eyes are red from crying. Her hands are shaking.
She looks terrified.
But I'm the one who should be terrified.
Because something is very, very wrong here.
"Mom." My voice sounds strange. Distant. "What's going on? Who is this girl?"
Mom doesn't answer right away. She just stands there, cold and perfect like always. Dad won't even look at me. He's staring at the floor like it's the most interesting thing in the world.
And Damien...
Damien is watching me with those amber eyes. Not moving. Not speaking. Just watching.
Like he's waiting for something to break.
"We should sit down," Mom finally says. "This conversation requires—"
"No." I don't move. "Tell me now. Who is she?"
The strange girl—Celeste—takes a shaky breath. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't want to come here. They made me. They said I had to. They said—" She breaks down crying again.
"Celeste." Mom's voice is sharp. "Control yourself."
"Control myself?" Celeste's voice rises, high and panicked. "You just told me my entire life is a lie! You told me I'm not who I think I am! How am I supposed to control myself?"
Ice floods my veins.
"What do you mean?" I ask slowly. "What did they tell you?"
Celeste looks at me. Really looks at me. And I see something in her eyes that makes my stomach drop.
Pity.
"They told me..." She wipes her face. "They told me I was switched at birth. At the hospital. Twenty-two years ago. They said I'm supposed to be a Chen. That I'm supposed to be..." She swallows hard. "Rich. And powerful. And part of this family."
The world tilts sideways.
"Switched," I repeat. The word feels wrong in my mouth. "You were switched."
"That's what they said." Celeste's voice is barely a whisper now. "Some kind of hospital mistake. The babies got mixed up and—"
"Stop." I hold up my hand. My head is spinning. "Stop talking."
I look at Mom. At Dad. At Damien.
"That's impossible," I say. "Babies don't just get switched. Hospitals have systems. Bracelets. Security. This isn't some movie. This is real life."
"It happened," Mom says flatly. "We had a DNA test done last month. There's no mistake."
"Last month?" My voice cracks. "You've known for a month and you didn't tell me?"
"We needed time to verify everything. To make sure the results were accurate. To prepare—"
"To prepare?" I'm shouting now. I never shout. "Prepare for what? To destroy my life? To tell me I'm not actually your daughter?"
Silence.
Cold, horrible silence.
And that's when I know.
That's when I finally, truly understand.
"Oh my God." My legs feel weak. I grab the edge of a chair to stay upright. "That's what this is. That's why you called me home. You're going to... You're going to replace me. With her."
"Aria—" Dad starts, but Mom cuts him off.
"Yes," she says simply. "Celeste is the biological Chen heir. She belongs here. And you..." Mom's eyes are ice. "You belong wherever your real family is."
The words hit me like a physical blow.
My real family.
Not them.
Not the people who raised me. Not the house I grew up in. Not the name I've had for twenty-two years.
None of it was real.
None of it was mine.
"Who?" The word comes out broken. "Who are my real parents?"
"We don't know yet," Dad says quietly. He still won't look at me. "The hospital is searching their records. It might take time."
"Time." I laugh, but it sounds wrong. Crazy. "Right. Time. Because what's another few weeks of not knowing who I actually am?"
Celeste is crying again. "I'm so sorry. This isn't your fault. This isn't anyone's fault. It's just... It's just a terrible mistake."
"No." I look at her. Really look at her. She has brown hair where mine is auburn. Brown eyes where mine are green. She's shorter than me. Softer. Everything about her is different. "No, this can't be real. Look at us! We look nothing alike!"
"Genetics are complicated," Mom says. "You can't always tell by appearance."
"But you can tell by DNA," Damien speaks for the first time. His voice is quiet. Controlled. "And the DNA doesn't lie, Aria."
I turn to him. My brother. My protector. The person who's been the one constant in my life.
Except he's not my brother.
He never was.
The realization hits me so hard I actually stumble backward.
"You knew," I breathe. "You knew this whole time. That's why you said we don't have to pretend anymore. That's what you meant on the phone."
Something flashes in his eyes. Something dark and satisfied.
"I suspected," he admits. "For years."
"Years?" My voice breaks. "You suspected for years and you never told me?"
"What would you have done with that information?" He steps closer. "Would it have changed anything?"
"It would have changed everything!"
"No." He's right in front of me now. Too close. "It wouldn't have. Because you still would have been mine, Aria. Biology doesn't change that."
The way he says mine makes my skin crawl.
Or maybe it doesn't.
Maybe that's the problem.
"I can't do this." I back away from all of them. "I can't be here. I need to leave. I need to think."
"You'll stay," Mom says. Not a request. A command. "We need three months to transition everything properly. To prepare Celeste for her role. To find your biological family. You'll stay and help make this smooth."
"And if I refuse?"
Mom's smile is cold. "Then you leave with nothing. No money. No references. No support. We'll make sure no one in our circles will hire you. You'll be alone, Aria. Completely alone."
It's a threat. A clear, obvious threat.
But I don't care.
"Fine." I grab my suitcase. "I'll take alone over whatever this is."
I turn toward the door.
And Damien grabs my arm.
His grip is gentle but firm. Unbreakable.
"Let go," I say quietly.
"No."
"Damien—"
"You're not leaving." His voice is soft. Dangerous. "Not again. Not ever again."
I look up at him. At the face I've known my whole life. At the eyes that used to make me feel safe.
Now they just make me feel trapped.
"We're not related," I whisper. "You understand that, right? Whatever sick thing you've been feeling, whatever twisted idea you have about us—we're not actually siblings. So there's no excuse anymore. No reason to pretend this is anything other than what it is."
His smile is terrifying.
"Exactly," he says. "No more excuses."
He pulls me closer. Too close.
And that's when I see it.
Behind him, on the mantle, there's a photo I've never seen before.
A hospital photo.
Two babies in pink blankets.
Two name tags.
Two families who took home the wrong child.
And underneath the photo, written in Mom's perfect handwriting, is a date.
June 15th, 2004
My birthday.
The day my life became a lie.
I look at Celeste. At this stranger who's supposed to be where I am.
And I realize something horrible:
This wasn't a mistake.
Someone planned this.
Someone wanted this to happen.
"Who knew?" I ask suddenly. "About the switch. Who knew?"
Everyone goes quiet.
Too quiet.
"Tell me!" I'm shouting again. "Someone switched those babies on purpose! Hospital mistakes don't just happen! So who knew? Who did this?"
Mom and Dad exchange a look.
And Damien's grip on my arm tightens.
"That," he says softly, "is an excellent question."