MoboNovel Lite
Chapter 1
The fire roared, spitting heat and smoke into the night.
Tilda Jenson lay crumpled on the dusty floor, her body too weak to move. Smoke scraped down her throat, dragging cough after cough out of her lungs. Tears streamed uncontrollably, stinging her eyes.
Her hair was a tangled mess, her face streaked with soot, yet nothing could hide her natural beauty.
She couldn’t move. Someone had drugged her—completely paralyzed her.
When had it happened?
A sweet voice slipped through the chaos. “Well, you look awful, Tilda.”
Kyla Jenson walked toward her, wearing a white dress and a gas mask. Her voice, light and innocent, was the voice of a little girl who could never hurt anyone.
At least, that’s what Tilda had once believed.
“It was you?” She rasped, disbelief widening her eyes. “You drugged me?”
Kyla was her younger sister in name.
“This is a little test,” Kyla said, smiling behind the mask. “When Mom, Dad, and all our brothers walk in and see us like this … Tell me, who do you think they’ll believe? You, or me?”
She pulled off her mask, fitted it gently onto Tilda’s face, then smudged ash across her own cheeks.
Pulling on a pair of gloves, she slipped a cutter from her pocket and drew the blade across her own forearm.
Blood poured down her wrist.
She tossed the cutter beside Tilda, peeled off the gloves, and slid them onto Tilda’s limp hands. Clutching her bleeding arm, she twisted her face into an expression of terror and screamed loudly.
“Help! Daddy! Mommy! Someone help me! Tilda’s gone crazy!”
The warehouse door slammed open.
“Kyla!”
Tilda watched as her parents and all seven brothers rushed right past her—straight to Kyla.
“Dad, Mom, it hurts! It really hurts! Tilda went crazy! She tried to set me on fire and said I don’t deserve to be a Jenson! She even cut me!”
Their eyes swept over Kyla’s bleeding arm, her tear-streaked face, and her trembling like a wounded rabbit. Then their gaze shifted to Tilda—slumped on the floor, a gas mask covering her face, the bloody cutter at her side, gloves on her hands.
Russell Jenson’s face twisted with fury. He charged at Tilda and drove his foot into her stomach.
“How did I end up with a daughter like you? You disgust me!”
The kick tore through her insides.
Her body ached, but her heart hurt even worse.
She felt like her body was shattered into pieces.
This was the same stomach that had once taken a bullet for him.
She remembered—years ago, Russell had taken both girls to a business event when a man burst in with a gun.
Without thinking, Tilda had stepped in front of him and taken the bullet, leaving a hole in her stomach.
But Russell had fled with Kyla, leaving her bleeding on the floor.
It was the police—not her father—who got her to the hospital.
She’d gone straight into the ICU, clinging to life by a thread.
Days later, the Jensons finally remembered her.
They only left Kyla’s side for a single hour to visit Tilda in the hospital.
Russell had looked guilty.
But the only thing he said in his defense was, “Kyla is your little sister, and she’s adopted. Now that we’ve found you, she’s afraid of losing her place in the family. As the older sister, you should be more understanding.”
And just like that, something came up with Kyla. The whole family rushed off in a hurry to take care of her.
From the way they treated her, anyone looking in would have thought Kyla was the real daughter.
And Tilda? She was nothing more than a stand-in. A placeholder.
Still, she believed him.
She actually—pathetically—believed him.
Because he was her father.
Because she had waited so long to find her family.
Because blood was supposed to mean something. She told herself the Jensons would never truly abandon their birth daughter.
So, she gave in to Kyla—again and again.
Whatever Kyla wanted, she handed over.
Every gift, every opportunity—Kyla chose first, and Tilda took whatever scraps were left.
She convinced herself that if she kept giving and kept sacrificing, they would eventually accept her. That someday, they would love her as their own.
Looking back now, what a joke.
What a pathetic, cruel joke.
She stared, hollow-eyed, as Kyla was carried out of the burning warehouse, surrounded by frantic concern and urgency.
And they left her behind—like trash no one wanted.
The flames closed in.
Pain ripped through her as fire consumed her skin. The searing heat swallowed every breath, every thought.
She could smell herself burning.
Tilda shut her eyes. A single tear slipped from the corner.
This life … I’ve done enough for them.
I’ve paid the Jensons back in full—with my life. My obsession with family. My desperate hope. All of it—paid in full.
If there’s a next life, let’s just be strangers.
That night, the news broke across Slosa: an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts had gone up in flames. One charred body was recovered. But before it could reach the hospital for an autopsy, it mysteriously vanished.
The next day, the Jenson Group released an official statement:
We have severed all ties with the girl we once believed to be our biological daughter.
From this day forward, Kyla Jenson is the only daughter we recognize.
Whatever Tilda Jenson did—or whatever became of her—is no longer our concern.
And just like that, the girl who had once set gossip blogs ablaze as the Jensons’ long-lost daughter faded from the headlines—replaced by newer, juicier scandals.
Forgotten.
Chapter 2
Tilda stared at her reflection in the mirror.
The face looking back at her seemed younger—like it was from five years ago.
Softer, but still showing hints of the beauty she would grow into.
“I—I came back to life?” She whispered, barely able to hear her own voice.
The date on her phone read: October 23, 2030.
Five years before the fire that had taken her life.
And just two weeks after the Jensons had brought her home.
She let out a self-mocking smile. “Is this the universe’s way of making fun of me? Giving me a second chance just to remind me how stupid I used to be?”
Whatever the reason, she wasn’t going to waste it.
She wasn’t here to win anyone’s approval this time. She wasn’t going to twist herself into someone else’s idea to fit in.
Given a second chance at life, this time, she was going to live for herself—and no one else.
Her eyes scanned the bedroom. Familiar, but strangely distant.
She changed out of her pajamas into a plain white T-shirt and faded jeans.
Her short hair framed her face with a sharper, more confident look.
She looked into the mirror again.
When she first arrived here, she’d brought nothing but a small suitcase and a fragile hope—hope that she’d finally found her real family.
Hope that she wouldn’t be alone anymore.
And so, she moved into this house.
A place called home, but it never felt like one.
From the outside, it was grand and polished, the kind of place that looked perfect in a magazine. But inside, it had chewed her up and spit her out.
Just as Tilda was lost in her grief—
Bang! Bang!
A loud pounding echoed from the door.
She pushed the sorrow aside, her eyes turning cold.
Without a word, she opened it, her face blank.
“Tilda! Mom and Dad want you downstairs.”
Wade Jenson stood there—tall, athletic, dressed in designer clothes, and glaring at her hatefully.
Her biological brother.
Seventh in the Jensons lineup.
They both went to Orica University, a prestigious school.
Wade was a junior, Tilda a sophomore.
Kyla, the youngest, had just started her freshman year after finishing her SAT.
“I heard you,” Tilda said flatly.
Wade blinked, thrown off.
This wasn’t the Tilda he remembered. Back then, she’d been stiff, nervous, and desperate to please everyone. She’d had no pride—always quick to help, always the last to speak, wanting to be close but too afraid to truly connect. Wade was annoyed with that timid, pitiful version of her.
Even after finding out she was their long-lost sister, he still couldn’t make himself care.
He already had a sister, Kyla. Sweet, gentle Kyla, the one he’d grown up with and protected his whole life.
Wade didn’t need a biological sister showing up out of nowhere. As far as he was concerned, gentle, kindhearted Kyla was all he needed.
With a short snort, he said, “You know what you did. Get downstairs and get ready for your lecture.” Then he walked away.
“What did I do?”
Tilda muttered with a cold laugh.
Memories rushed back.
She knew exactly what today was.
Perfect.
Hands in her pockets, she strolled downstairs.
The first thing she heard was the soft sound of crying coming from the living room.
She saw Kyla sitting curled between Russell and Blair Jenson, their hands on her back, murmuring comfort.
From the outside, you’d think Kyla was the birth daughter and Tilda was the adopted one.
Their places had completely reversed.
The pain that stabbed Tilda’s heart was sharp but far from new. She had wanted this kind of closeness her whole life—wanted it so badly that she’d hidden her real strength, buried her true self, and lived as if she were nothing.
She’d given up everything to scrape together the smallest pinch of family love.
Even with this second chance, letting go of those feelings from the start wasn’t easy.
But she’d already decided—she would never let herself fall into that trap again.
She stood in silence, watching her parents with cool detachment, like they were actors on a stage.
Tilda wasn’t part of this scene anymore—just a spectator.
If it had been a good performance, maybe she would have even clapped.
But she no longer felt anything for the people still caught in the play.
That was it. Nothing more.
Wade came downstairs, and the moment he saw Tilda’s expression, his temper flared instantly.
“Aren’t you going to ask why Kyla’s crying?!” He barked.
“It’s not my fault she’s crying. Why should I ask?” Tilda’s voice was ice.
“You brat!”
Tilda didn’t look the slightest bit sorry. She acted like the whole thing had nothing to do with her.
That only made Wade angrier. He was seconds away from hitting her.
He couldn’t stand it. He refused to believe this cold, vile girl was his sister.
Kyla was the one who belonged in their family.
Tilda? She didn’t even deserve to exist. If she had just died, Kyla wouldn’t be upset right now.
His glare was full of hatred, like he wanted her gone—not just from the room, but from the world entirely.
Tilda felt it. She knew exactly what that look meant.
He probably wished she were dead. Then Kyla could take her place, and there’d be no more reason for all this drama.
The old Tilda would have been crushed. Her heart would’ve broken, the pain tearing her apart from the inside.
She would have asked herself over and over what she’d done wrong to deserve that look from her brother.
She’d grown up for nineteen years without love, without warmth, surviving on nothing but grit and stubbornness.
And when the Jensons finally found her? Even with Kyla already there, she had never been jealous. She’d treated Kyla like a real sister—putting her first, caring about her feelings, and never competing with her for anything.
Whenever people compared them, Tilda always stepped back. Again and again.
She gave up everything for one thing: family.
Tilda never asked to be loved the way Kyla was. All she wanted was for her family to notice her, even once.
She had lowered herself until she felt like nothing.
Tilda had given away her life just for a chance to belong. Wasn’t that enough?
Apparently not. Never enough.
To the Jensons, Kyla was the only one who mattered.
Tilda was just a shadow, someone they barely noticed.
Maybe they really did wish she’d never been found.
Maybe her death would have been easier than letting her mess up the perfect picture they had.
The only reason they brought her home was because not bringing her home would’ve made them feel guilty.
They didn’t want guilt hanging over them. So, to ease their conscience and get rid of any regret, they reluctantly took her in.
Now, none of it mattered to Tilda anymore.
The growing tension between her and Wade finally caught Russell’s attention.
“Blair, stay with Kyla,” he told his wife quietly.
Then he stood and walked toward Tilda, his face dark with anger.
“Tilda, you’d better apologize—now!”
His voice hit the room like a cold, heavy bell.
Wade crossed his arms and smirked, ready to watch the show.
She made Kyla cry? Then she was about to pay for it.
The old Tilda would have panicked. She would have obeyed, trembling and scared.
But this time, she met Russell’s fury with a calm, steady gaze.
“And why exactly should I apologize?”
Tilda looked at Russell with steady eyes.
Compared to his explosive anger, her calm was like still water—and it carried a strange kind of power.
In that moment, their presence alone made it clear who stood taller.
Chapter 3
“What did you just say?”
Russell stared at her like he couldn’t believe his ears.
Even Wade froze.
“I said Why should I apologize? This isn’t the Middle Ages. Are you really going to punish your daughter like a criminal?”
Tilda’s voice was calm, almost too calm.
Her eyes were steady and cold, revealing almost nothing.
But deep down, there was a spark—one that had nothing to do with the Jensons.
She’d given up on them long ago.
When love dies, hatred goes with it.
Her anger was now with herself.
She thought of her past. Back then, when Russell told her to apologize, she did—scared and desperate.
When they accused her of baseless things, she tried again and again to explain, but no one ever listened.
As soon as Kyla cried, Wade slapped her.
She had apologized again and again, terrified they would hate her. Terrified to lose what little she thought she had. Even with blood in her mouth and shame in her eyes, she took the blame for something she didn’t do.
Why?
Why had she been such a fool and lived without pride?
Tilda’s fury was with the girl she used to be.
“Well, well,” Russell said sharply. “Look at you—grown up now, huh? Talking back to me?”
His temper flared. He raised his hand, ready to strike-
But Kyla stepped in.
“Dad! No!”
Her voice cut through the air, stopping him mid-swing.
Blair turned in shock. “Kyla, you…”
Kyla broke down, sobbing so hard it seemed like she could collapse at any moment. “Don’t hit her! Please don’t! She’s your real daughter!”
Those words—your real daughter—pulled Russell back.
His gaze returned to Tilda, full of conflicting emotions.
He didn’t want to admit it, but this cold, ungrateful, stubborn girl was his flesh and blood.
And still… how could she be so wicked?
“Let’s just talk,” Blair said shakily. “No need for this to get violent.”
As much as it hurt to see Kyla cry, Tilda was still her biological daughter.
“Kyla, you’re too good,” Wade muttered, his voice tight.
Watching Kyla take the burn, she would rather be wounded and broken just to side with Tilda. Wade felt like his heart was being cut to pieces.
Why? Why couldn’t Kyla be his real sister? Why did it have to be Tilda—the one who was so cruel? It just wasn’t fair.
Russell took a deep breath, forcing his temper back down.
He kept his voice even. “Tilda, do you understand what you did wrong?”
“Not really.”
The reply was quick and sharp.
Everyone froze.
This wasn’t the girl they knew. She wasn’t timid. She wasn’t trying to earn anyone’s approval. She wasn’t trying to please them. She was different.
“YOU DON’T KNOW?” Russell repeated, each word cutting through the air like a whip.
“I don’t,” Tilda said again, clear and steady. If he wanted her to repeat it, she would.
As many times as he needed.
She doesn’t know.
Her dark eyes locked on his, deep and unreadable. For a second, a chill slid down Russell’s spine. He had never seen that look in her before. She didn’t even seem like the same person.
Russell Jenson had once been the proud and celebrated chairman of the Jenson Group. A veteran in the business world, he had spent a lifetime navigating high-stakes deals and meeting every kind of person imaginable.
Even now, with his sons grown and running the company and himself long retired from the front lines, the sharp instincts he had honed over the years had hardly faded.
“Mom, Dad, please stop this,” Kyla whispered through her tears, moving closer to Tilda.
“Kyla, stay away from her!” Russell reached for her, worried she might get hurt—worried Tilda might lash out again.
For a brief moment, something ached in Tilda’s chest. But she let it. Wounds healed. Eventually.
She had seen this family for what it was. She no longer hoped for anything from them. And she would never bend again just to keep the peace.
“Tilda,” Kyla sobbed, turning toward her. “I know you’re the real daughter. I’m so sorry. You’ve had to live here pretending to be some distant relative because of me. I’m sorry that you couldn’t even use your real name!”
She clutched her chest, gasping for air. “You can have it all back—your name, your place. I don’t want anything. If my being here makes you uncomfortable, I’ll leave. I’ll move out. I’ll disappear. You’ll never have to see me again!”
Her tears flowed freely.
She looked so fragile. So heartbroken.
Blair couldn’t hold back anymore. Her eyes turned red, and tears began sliding down her cheeks, one after another.
“No one’s kicking you out,” Russell said firmly. “Kyla, I don’t care if Tilda’s my biological daughter. You’re my daughter, too. Blood doesn’t change that. You’ll always be a Jenson.”
“Dad!” Kyla cried, collapsing into his arms. “Dad, I’m scared! I’m so scared!”
“It’s okay,” Russell whispered, holding her tight. “I’m here. No one can hurt you.”
Then he turned a murderous glare on Tilda.
Whatever doubts he’d had were gone. Kyla’s tears had turned his guilt into pure rage again.
But Tilda didn’t flinch. She stood off to the side, silent and untouched, as if none of this had anything to do with her—like she was just watching a play.
“Tilda!” Wade burst out. “Do you even have a heart? Can’t you see what’s happening? Don’t you think you owe Kyla an apology? Tell her you’re sorry right now!”
Wade couldn’t take it anymore. He stepped forward, eyes blazing, staring her down.
Tilda almost laughed. Her eyes, cold and mocking, locked on him. She didn’t say a word, but her look said plenty.
And Wade felt it—like she was judging him. Belittling him. She was the sister he had never accepted. The one he’d wished was dead.
Furious, he yanked out his phone and shoved it in her face. “Look at what you did! Don’t accuse us of blaming you for nothing!”
A bold headline filled the screen:
“Jenson’s Real Heiress Revealed—Tilda Jenson’s True Identity Exposed”
The article told everything: how Tilda had been stolen from the hospital as a newborn, went missing for nineteen years, and finally returned to her family.
The photos captured everything—Tilda walking in and out of the Jenson villa, snapshots from her campus life, and shots of her at family events.
Then came the second headline:
“What Happens to the Adopted Daughter Now?”
The internet exploded. Comments flooded in:
“Real heiress vs. fake heiress—this is getting juicy.”
“Rich people drama at its finest.”
“No way—Jenson Group’s stock is actually going up over this.”
“They really adore Kyla. She’s always at family events, always gorgeous, and treated like royalty.”
“The real one’s pretty too, not gonna lie.”
“But she doesn’t have the same presence. Kyla’s way more refined. Tilda probably had a rough life, and it shows.”
Tilda barely glanced at the screen. Not a single emotion crossed her face.
“So what?” she spoke flatly.