Blurb：
At ten years old, Nola Collins believed she had found her forever family with Grayson Collins and Luna Lee. For years, she scrubbed floors, cooked meals, and organized studies—desperate to earn their love. But everything changed when Luna Lee became pregnant. The arrival of Sophia Collins shattered Nola’s fragile happiness. Now treated as an unpaid servant, Nola Collins is forced to cater to Sophia Collins’s every need—making milk, washing clothes, and soothing cries—while Grayson Collins and Luna Lee dote on their biological daughter. When a single mistake leads to Nola Collins being locked in the attic, she realizes she was never truly part of the Collins Family. This emotional story explores themes of favoritism, neglect, and the heartbreaking journey of an adoptive child fighting for belonging. Will Nola Collins remain invisible, or will she find the strength to reclaim her identity?
Content：
My name is Nola Collins. When I was ten, I stepped through the door of the Collins Family's home for the first time.The sunlight was warm that day, golden light filtering through the plane tree leaves, casting mottled shadows on the ground.
My adoptive parents, Grayson Collins and Luna Lee, stood at the door, their smiles filled with a gentleness I had never seen in the orphanage.
Luna Lee stepped forward and took my hand, her palm soft and carrying the scent of soap: "Nola, this will be your home from now on. We will love you as if you were our own daughter."
The days in the orphanage were cramped and cold; no one ever treated me with the tenderness Luna Lee showed.
In that moment, I thought I had finally found the happiness I longed for. From then on, I did everything I could to please them, desperate to hold on to that warmth.
Every morning before dawn, I would get up to scrub the living room floor, not missing a single speck of dust in the corners.
As soon as the school bell rang, I'd rush home to help Luna Lee pick vegetables and wash dishes. Even if I was just handing her a plate, I did it with sincere care.
On weekends, I would tidy Grayson Collins's study—organizing his books and documents neatly and wiping the desk until it was spotless.
Whenever they praised me for being sensible, it felt like I had a sweet candy in my heart, and all my efforts felt completely worthwhile.
But those warm days didn't last long.
One evening, a year later, after school, I came home to see Grayson Collins clutching a medical report, his face full of excitement, while Luna Lee cradled her belly, her eyes shining with joy.
Grayson Collins ruffled my hair gently: "Nola, you're going to be a big sister. Mom's having a baby."
A strange unease gripped me, like something was about to be taken away, but I still forced a smile and said, "Congratulations, Mom and Dad."
From that day on, the atmosphere at home changed.
Luna Lee's belly grew bigger each day, and all of Grayson Collins's attention was on her.
They used to always remember my birthday, preparing a cake and new clothes beforehand, and taking me to the park on the day.
But that year, on my birthday, I waited from after school until dark—there was no sign of anything from home.
I sneaked a glance inside; Luna Lee was sitting comfortably on the sofa watching TV, and Grayson Collins was peeling an apple beside her. They were chatting and laughing—no one mentioned my birthday.
I hid in the small room, tears soaking my clothes, but I told myself they were just too busy, not purposely forgetting.
Ten months later, Luna Lee gave birth to a girl. Grayson Collins named her Sophia Collins and cherished this biological daughter like a treasure.
On the day Sophia was born, many relatives came to the house and gathered around the crib, praising how adorable she was.
I stood outside the crowd, watching the lively scene, feeling hollow inside, as if I had been emptied out.
From then on, I became the "invisible person" in the family.
Every day when I opened my eyes, my life was consumed by demands about Sophia: "Nola Collins, make milk for Sophia," "Nola Collins, find out why Sophia is crying," "Nola Collins, wash Sophia's dirty clothes."
I was like a spinning top, running from morning till night, without a single moment to myself.
Once, while making milk for Sophia, my hand slipped and I dropped the bottle — glass shards and milk powder spilled all over the floor.
Grayson Collins rushed out of the study, his face growing dark. "How could you be so careless? Sophia's still waiting for her milk!"
I crouched to gather the shards and said I'd make a new bottle, but he cut me off, "You're all clumsy—don't hurt Sophia!"
He dragged me into the cramped, pitch-black attic, cluttered with junk, slammed the door, and locked it from outside.
In the darkness, I hugged my knees, trembling on the cold floor.
From downstairs came Sophia's laughter and Luna Lee's coaxing, piercing my heart like needles.
I stayed in the attic all night, and it wasn't until the next morning that Grayson Collins finally let me out.
My throat was dry and sore, my knees bruised purple, and I walked with a limp.
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The End