Blurb：
Chloe Donovan was sent away twice by the Donovan family—first at age eleven, now at eighteen. Both times, it was because of Sloane Donovan. This time, Chloe slapped Sloane for trying to take her rag doll, a gift from her betrothed, Carter Hayes. Seven years later, Chloe is summoned back because Sloane claims to love Carter. Ethan Donovan, her brother, defends Sloane while their parents pressure Chloe to sacrifice her engagement. Forced into a dusty storage room, Chloe uncovers the truth: she is the original Sloane, replaced by an adopted daughter. Will Chloe reclaim her identity and fight for Carter Hayes, or yield to the family that erased her?
Content：
It was the second time the Donovans had sent me away. The first time, I was eleven. This time, I was eighteen.The reason was the same: Sloane.
This time, it was because I’d slapped her for trying to snatch the worn-out rag doll I’d had for years. The first time… the reasons were more complicated.
On the day I left, my parents—our parents—were busy comforting Sloane, whose sobs echoed through the marble entryway. My brother, Ethan, stood in front of her like a bodyguard, his face a mask of fury directed at me.
The only thing I took with me was that doll. A gift from Carter Hayes, my betrothed, from the day I was first found and brought to this house.
Seven years later, they summoned me back for the second time.
The reason, once again, was Sloane. She had decided she was in love with my fiancé.
1
The moment I stepped into the grand, sun-drenched living room, Sloane dissolved into tears, her face a perfect portrait of tragedy.
“I love Carter,” she cried, her voice catching prettily. “I won’t have anyone but him.”
My brother, Ethan, fixed me with a look he usually reserved for criminals. “Sloane and Carter have always been close. Why do you have to be the one to ruin it?”
My mother and father, the Donovans, took a softer approach, their voices laced with practiced reason. “Sloane has been raised with a certain… delicacy, Chloe. Marrying into a family as influential as the Hayeses is what’s best for her, what she’s prepared for.”
My mother reached out, then let her hand fall. “Please, Chloe. Can’t you just let her have this?”
My hands felt clammy on the handle of my single suitcase. I looked at the four of them, a united front of familial concern, all of it aimed at protecting someone else.
“Excuse me,” I said, my voice quiet in the cavernous room. “Which room is mine?”
The four of them blinked, the flow of their drama momentarily dammed.
After a few seconds of silence, Ethan cleared his throat, a flicker of awkwardness in his eyes. “The housekeeper just cleared out one of the rooms on the second floor. I’ll… I’ll show you.”
I nodded and followed him up the sweeping staircase.
The suitcase was heavy, its wheels bumping on each step. Halfway up, he finally seemed to realize he should be carrying it, turning to take it from me with a gruff, reluctant motion.
I followed a step behind him, the old habit of politeness ingrained in me. “Thank you.”
Ethan’s shoulders tensed. He didn’t reply.
The room was an old storage space, hastily converted. The bed frame looked like a cast-off from the basement, and the mattress was still bare, waiting for linens that no one had remembered. For a family like the Donovans, this room was worse than what they gave the staff.
Ethan coughed lightly. “The third floor…”
“I know,” I cut him off gently. “It’s fine.”
The third floor had four bedrooms. Sloane had claimed the two best ones—with the best light and the best views—one for sleeping, and one for her million-dollar grand piano.
We stood in the dusty silence for a moment before Ethan finally broke. “Chloe, Grandpa set up this engagement for you. He left you a separate inheritance, a significant one. Sloane… she doesn’t have any of that. Can’t you just…”
“What did the Hayes family say?” I asked, cutting through his appeal.
“The Hayeses…” He hesitated. “This is a matter between our families. It’s an alliance. As long as we sort it out internally, we can present a united front to them later.”
So, this wasn’t Carter’s idea.
A small, secret breath of relief escaped me.
I was eleven when they found me and brought me to this house. I thought I was coming home to parents and a brother who had spent years searching for me. Instead, I found a family that was already complete, with a daughter named Sloane.
They told me that after I, the original Sloane Donovan, was lost at four years old, they’d adopted another girl to fill the void, to soothe their grief. They gave her my name. They had come to see her as their own. So when they found me, they gave me a new name: Chloe. The echo. The return.
Sloane, emboldened by their adoration, had thrown a tantrum and smashed up the princess bedroom they had prepared for me. She’d pointed a finger in my face and called me a charity case from the system, unfit to sleep in such a nice room. She’d cried and screamed that she needed an inspiring environment for her piano practice, and so the room became hers.
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The End