Chapter One
SPROLOGUE
“Lowlife.”
Lilith Fairchild’s voice was a venomous whisper, her perfectly manicured nails tapping a demeaning rhythm against my
cheek
“If you want to last more than a day in this mansion,” she hissed, her smile as beautiful as it was cruel, “you’ll sleep with one eye open. Better yet, have them take shifts.”
“Or I’ll make you wish you were never born.”
She didn’t know that, for this one body, we had thirty pairs of eyes.
And all of them were wide awake.
601
The questionable truffle pasta at the charity dinner was our death warrant.
One moment, there were thirty of us–the entire senior class of Veridian Preparatory Academy–celebrating our nomination for the Genesis Grant Finals.
The next, a wave of dizziness, a flash of white, and a shared, silent scream as we were violently crammed into a single consciousness.
A flood of memories, none of them ours, crashed over us.
The body we now inhabited belonged to a girl named Rowan Adler.
The true heiress to the Fairchild fortune, swapped at birth by a bitter family driver.
For eighteen years, that driver had sent her to be raised by distant, neglectful relatives.
Rowan’s childhood was a tapestry of cold shoulders and colder meals.
When a DNA test finally revealed her identity, she found the courage to reclaim her birthright, only to face a reality far crueler than neglect: a father who wouldn’t acknowledge her and a mother who wouldn’t love her.
Here, in the opulent prison of the Fairchild mansion, she was tormented by the fake heiress, Lilith Fairchild.
At the elite Veridian Preparatory Academy, she was ostracized by Lilith’s powerful clique.
Rowan fought back only once, a desperate act of defiance that her mother, Mrs. Fairchild, witnessed.
It sealed her fate.
Branded as mentally unstable and malicious, Rowan was scheduled to be sent to the Greenshire Psychiatric Clinic for “corrective therapy.”
In the original timeline of this life, she would be diagnosed with severe depression and leap from the roof of the Fairchild Tower.
The tragic story echoed through our shared mind, and a collective fury erupted.
*The Jock (Jax): So let me get this straight. Other people get transmigrated into billionaires or superheroes, and we get to be a tortured teenager? Who did I piss off?*
*The Tech Whiz (Cody). This has to be some messed–up full–immersion VR test. They’re using us as guinea pigs.*
The Class Belle (Chloe): Seriously? A fake heiress plot? That’s so middle school.*
*The Valedictorian (Prival: Everyone focual How do we nel back The Conscie Groot National Cinale stari past Satur
D
raged in our head, Lilith Fairchild approached, her hand striking our face with thos
*The Valedictorian (Priya): Everyone, focus! How do we get back? The Genesis Grant National Finals start next Saturday!*
As the debate r
light, insulting taps.
“Lowlife,” she repeated.
*If you want to last more
re than a
a day in this mansion, you’ll sleep with one eye open. Better yet, have them take shifts.”
“Or I’ll make you wish you were never born.”
With that, she plastered on a saccharine smile and turned to Mrs. Fairchild, who was descending the grand spiral staircase.
Her voice broke with theatrical sorrow.
“Mother, please, let sister have my suite.“)
“She said I’m an imposter, that I don’t deserve the master bedroom. I can just move into the staff quarters.”
Mrs. Fairchild’s perfectly sculpted brows knitted together.
“Rowan,” she said, her voice dripping with disappointment, “I thought I just explained this. The swap was the driver’s fault alone. Lilith is a victim in this, just as you are.”
*is*
“She has lived with us for eighteen years. She is my daughter. Lilith has claustrophobia, how could she possibly stay in a small room? Can’t you be less selfish for once?”
The hypocrisy was suffocating.
Inside Rowan’s body, thirty souls lost their collective cool.
A war for control erupted.
Rowan’s body suddenly spasmed.
Her expression twisted, her movements becoming stiff and robotic as she lurched toward Lilith.
“My voice this time, Blaze: Who’s controlling the left–leg? Coordinate, people!”
*Priya (Class President): Grant me access to the vocal cords! We need to clarify that we never said those things.”
*Jax: I’ve had enough! I’m gonna punch her. Give me the arms!*
Mrs. Fairchild stared at us in horror, instinctively pulling Lilith behind her.
“Rowan, what is this madness?”
“Are you having some sort of psychotic episode?”
As we took another jerky step forward, Mrs. Fairchild shoved us back in disgust.
The large, expensive emerald ring on her finger caught the collar of our simple dress.
She recoiled as if she’d touched something filthy, yanking her hand back so violently that the fabric tore.
The ripped collar fell away, exposing the horrifying landscape of scars that covered our shoulder and neck.
Pale, raised lines crisscrossed with older, faded marks of abuse.
Mrs. Fairchild saw them.
Her breath hitched. The carefully constructed mask of maternal disappointment cracked, revealing a flicker of raw, maternal shock. She froze, her eyes widening, locked on the silent testimony of Rowan’s past.
11:47 PM P
Lilith immediately stepped in front of her, a shield of feigned concern. “Mother, don’t look! She’s just trying to upset you!”
“Now’s our chance!” I yelled in the command center of our mind, willing the left leg to kick Lilith.
Apparently, Priya had the same idea for the right leg.
The result was a bizarre, airborne contortion
Rowan’s legs crossed and flew upwards, lifting her entire body off the ground like a beached fish before crashing hard onto the marble floor.
The world went dark as our head struck the base of the staircase railing.
