Ch. My sister’s punishment, my billionaire prize 1 My sister’s punishment, my billionaire prize 1

I was still in the kitchen preparing tomorrow’s breakfast when I heard the commotion from the main hall. The cream hadn’t been whipped yet when my mother rushed in, grabbing my hands so tightly they hurt. 

“Amber didn’t mean it! She’s terrified, crying her eyes out,” she said, tears streaming down her face. 

olet, you’re Amber’s big sister. You need to take her punishment at the Blackwood estate.” The bowl of cream slipped from my hands, splattering across our expensive kitchen tiles. 

I noticed the housekeepers exchanging glances, barely hiding their smirks. Drama in the Parker household was better than anything on Netflix, and I was always the punching bag. 

Everyone in Boston’s high society knew the Blackwoods were a recently returned business powerhouse with connections to Wall Street and Washington. Amber had actually pushed Olivia Blackwood-their only daughter-down a three-story staircase in front of dozens of witnesses at the charity gala. If Amber were taken to the Blackwood mansion for punishment, she’d be fucky to make it out alive. 

My twin brother Ethan stormed into the kitchen looking panicked. 

He was literally the person I shared the closest blood relation with-identical twins except for gender -yet the words coming out of his mouth couldn’t have been more heartless: 

“It’s true. The Blackwoods are savage. Dad and I practically got on our knees begging them, but they wouldn’t budge. They only gave us five days to decide. If Amber goes there…” He lowered his voice dramatically. “God knows what they’ll do to her-she’d break within hours!” 

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The mixing bowl I was clutching crashed to the floor, porcelain shards scattering everywhere. So Amber couldn’t handle it, but somehow I was supposed to? If the Blackwoods discovered they’d been sent a substitute, they might actually kill me in their rage. 

Did my mother and brother not care about that at all? 

I was their flesh and blood, for God’s sake! 

1 clearly remembered how my mother used to hold me when I was little, stroking my dark hair: “Mommy loves Violet the most. You’re Mommy’s precious baby forever.” 

That was until her second pregnancy ended in tragedy. 

The stillbirth shattered something in my mother. 

Her personality changed completely. She no longer smiled at me but instead spent days clutching the tiny pink clothes she had prepared for the baby, weeping uncontrollably. 

Later, my father brought home a little blonde girl from Hope Children’s Center. 

Everyone commented how this little girl looked remarkably like what their lost baby might have become.