The Fake Brother And The Real Heiress

I was always a pushover growing up. I had a tendency to agree with everyone, reflexively.

Someone could tell me the Earth was flat, and I’d nod and say, “You know, there’s a real possibility for that.”

After a checkup years later, I learned I had what the doctor vaguely called a “Compulsive Agreement Disorder”—a psychological defense mechanism born out of constant bullying and never being heard. I learned to survive by simply affirming whatever the perceived aggressor said.

When the prominent Whitlock family finally tracked me down and brought me home, the “fake daughter,” Savannah, immediately started the performance. She wiped away a perfectly placed tear and offered up my room.

“I took your place, big sister. This room rightfully belongs to you. I’ll just move my things to the guest suite.”

I nodded, agreeing instantly.

“That’s certainly fair. Indeed, the guest room is for guests, and since you’re technically a visitor here now, that seems logical.”

Savannah—Savvy—turned instantly pale, her composure visibly shaken.

My newfound brother, Marcus, jabbed a furious finger at my chest.

“I only recognize Savvy as my sister. You can forget about being family.”

I didn’t miss a beat.

“Absolutely. I completely agree. Honestly, I’ve always preferred the simple life—I tell everyone I’m an only child anyway. Less drama.”

Marcus turned beet red, his jaw slackening. He let out a strangled gasp and promptly collapsed.

I just stood there, blinking slowly. I was just agreeing with what he said. How was that my fault?

1

Marcus was clutching his chest, completely knocked out.

Savvy immediately started wailing, calling out his name. The loud, dramatic scene brought my biological parents, Caroline and Richard Whitlock, running.

“What in the world is going on here? Why did Marcus faint?” they demanded.

Savvy rubbed her eyes, shrinking her shoulders and choking out a sob.

“It’s because… sister… she…”

She trailed off, making it sound like I’d just physically assaulted my new brother.

My parents’ disapproving gazes landed squarely on me. I nodded my head, following the pattern.

“Indeed. Marcus said he only recognized Savvy as his sister. So, I responded that I tell everyone I’m an only child. Then he fainted.”

It was true. At my foster home, I was an only child.

Savvy continued to cry silently, shrinking into herself and clutching Marcus. After Mom gave her a small, reassuring pat, she looked up, shooting me a pathetic, fearful glance before tearfully addressing them.

“She said… she was angry I took her family. She threatened me, and Marcus stepped in to defend me, and that’s how he fell.”

Wait, she just straight-up fabricated a story?

Mom looked at the two of them—the collapsed son and the terrified daughter—and turned her accusatory face back to me.

“You’ve been back for one day, and you’re already bullying your brother and sister? What kind of daughter are you?”

I nodded my head again, the reflex taking over.

“That’s certainly possible. Since I just got here, I could very well have bullied Savvy and Marcus. But you have cameras, right? We can just check the footage.”

I decided to go for the nuclear option.

“And besides, I might not even be your daughter. DNA tests can have errors. To be safe, Savvy, Marcus, and I can all take another one. What if none of us are your biological children?”

The last sentence was designed to short-circuit my mother and silence my father. It worked immediately. Mom gasped, looking frantic. The usually rigid and stern Dad snapped, “What are you talking about, running your mouth like that!”

2

Savvy, ever the schemer, latched onto the easier target.

“The cameras in here… didn’t they break last month?”

I was genuinely confused.

“They did break. But I fixed them yesterday.”

Growing up, my only defense against being beaten up was evidence. Because I compulsively agreed with everything, people often tried to take advantage or physically intimidate me. The one thing that stopped them was the proof on camera. So, when I got back to the Whitlocks’ mansion, the first thing I did was hire a crew to ensure every corner of the house was covered.

When Mom and Dad realized my strange fixation was due to a childhood trauma from being constantly abused, they allowed me to install the system out of pity. Savvy, who was probably out shopping at the time, had no idea.

I pulled up the feed on my phone and projected it onto the closest wall, turning the volume up. The scene played out: Savvy’s sickeningly sweet offer to give up the room, followed by Marcus’s aggressive taunts about me being some kind of “hillbilly” from the sticks.

I zoomed in and emphasized Savvy’s smug, subtle expressions and Marcus’s look of utter contempt.

Mom and Dad squirmed, their faces heating up. Mom cleared her throat.

“Marcus and Savvy were wrong in how they spoke to you, Maddie. I’ll talk to them.” She paused. “But you, too, honey. If you knew they were lying, why didn’t you just explain things to us?”

I looked at them, completely flat. I swiped the video progress bar back, and my earlier explanation—my calm, reflexive affirmation that led to the truth—rang out clearly.

Mom’s cheeks flushed crimson. They both stood there, wordless. I knew exactly what this meant: they were going to sweep it under the rug.

I dangled my phone with the lab appointment confirmation pulled up.

“I’ve already scheduled the follow-up DNA tests. Should we still go?”

Mom forced a weak smile.

“That… won’t be necessary.”

I tilted my head, looking genuinely puzzled.

“Oh, but we should. What if Marcus was the one who was switched? We’re supposed to be fraternal twins, right? Two babies switched at once isn’t impossible.”

I gestured between us.

“Look, Mom, Savvy and I look incredibly similar, but Marcus and I don’t look alike at all. Isn’t that weird?”

It was weird. A supposed twin brother and I shared zero resemblance, while the supposed “fake” sister could have been my doppelgänger. It raised too many questions.

Mom seemed to instinctively agree with me, but Dad immediately cut me off, his voice laced with agitation.

“Enough! Are you done with this drama? I told you, I’m making Marcus and Savvy apologize, all right?” He snapped. “They made a mistake, but you don’t need to be so aggressive! Look at you! What kind of attitude is that?”

He turned to Savvy. “Savvy, apologize to your sister!”

3

Savvy had been yelled at by her father—the man who raised her—for the first time. Her eyes instantly welled up.

She shot me a hateful, red-rimmed glare.

“I’m sorry! There!”

With that, she burst into tears and ran off. In her haste, she didn’t watch her step and accidentally stomped right on Marcus’s chest.

I saw it clearly: Marcus’s face twisted in pain, a brief moment of pure agony, before it smoothed out again. He was faking the unconsciousness.

Mom quickly ran after Savvy, calling out to her. Dad called the staff to carry Marcus back to his room and then walked off without so much as a glance in my direction.

The DNA test was forgotten.

I hummed a quiet tune to myself and walked toward Savvy’s room. The door was ajar, and I could hear Mom’s comforting voice.

“Sweetheart, don’t cry. You’ll always be my daughter, no matter what.”

Savvy’s voice was hoarse.

“What about my sister, though?”

Mom paused, then answered honestly.

“Maddie is my daughter, too. You both have to learn to get along. Look, you wrongly accused her today, and she let it go. Your brother exaggerated things. I don’t think she has the bad temper he claims.”

Clearly, that wasn’t what Savvy wanted to hear. She burst into louder sobs.

4

I tapped gently on the door.

“Can I come in?”

Savvy’s crying cut off abruptly, like a toy robot running out of batteries. She didn’t answer.

I opened the door and walked in anyway.

Savvy, whose eyes were now red and puffy, glared at me.

“What do you want?”

“To rest. You gave me your room, remember? This is my room now.”

Savvy was furious. She hadn’t expected me to call her bluff and take her performative offer seriously.

Mom quickly tried to smooth things over.

“Oh, Maddie, darling, Savvy was just speaking emotionally. She’s been in this room for so long, it wouldn’t be right to make her move now.” She looked at me hesitantly. “How about you check out one of the other rooms?”

I surveyed Savvy’s space. The large vanity wasn’t for makeup; it was crowded with limited-edition collectible art toys and little cotton dolls littered across the bed—the kind of niche fan merchandise often called “merch” by collectors. It was clearly a personalized sanctuary.

I gave Mom a slow nod and patted her on the shoulder.

“That’s absolutely true. It’s not right to make my sister move after she’s made this room her own.” I paused. “In that case, I’ll take Marcus’s room.”

Mom froze. She stammered.

“Marcus’s room wouldn’t work either… he’s a boy… why don’t you just take the guest room?”

I nodded again.

“Indeed, Marcus’s room is unsuitable—all his messy boy things. But the bed in the guest room is too hard; I won’t sleep well.” I offered a suggestion. “How about this: I’ll just crash in here with Savvy for one night? We can get a new mattress for the guest room tomorrow, and then I’ll move out.”

The idea of sharing a room with me horrified Savvy.

“No!” she shrieked.

But Mom thought it was a brilliant idea—a forced sisterly bonding session. She immediately approved. Savvy’s protests were useless. Furious, she grabbed a pillow and stomped off to the guest room.

As they left, I discreetly took the strand of hair I’d pulled from Mom’s back during the hug and tucked it away. I surveyed Savvy’s room and, for good measure, installed a tiny, almost invisible security camera in a lamp.

I rifled through her vanity and found her hairbrush, plucking a few strands of her hair.

If what I suspected was true, the family drama was about to get a whole lot more entertaining.

5

The next morning, before the sun was even fully up, a furious banging rattled my door.

Fighting a massive wave of sleep-deprived irritation, I yanked the door open, my face dark.

“What is with all the goddamn knocking? Are you trying to wake the dead?”

Marcus, who had arrived with Savvy, ready for a fight, recoiled in surprise. A moment later, his face contorted in rage. He raised his hand to deliver a furious slap.

“How dare you, you little tramp! You took Savvy’s room!”

I grabbed his wrist mid-swing. Years of self-defense classes—Krav Maga and kickboxing—meant I wasn’t going to be taken down by a pampered rich kid. It would have been pathetic.

I was already awake and annoyed. I used his forward momentum, twisted his arm, and slapped him across the face with my free hand.

“Keep your hands off me, you noisy jerk. If you didn’t want me to take the room, you shouldn’t have said I wasn’t family. You let me in, so now shut up.” I hissed, my voice low and dangerous. “I’m in a foul mood. Annoy me again and I’ll beat you until your own mother doesn’t recognize you. Get lost!”

Savvy gasped in alarm.

“Madison! Are you insane? How dare you hit Marcus? He has a heart condition!”

Marcus was the family’s golden boy. His delicate health meant Savvy, as the younger sister, had always been instructed to be gentle with him.

I raised an eyebrow, looking at the clear handprint swelling on Marcus’s cheek.

“Oh? Are you my actual brother?”

His expression faltered instantly, a flash of panic crossing his eyes before he rallied into an aggressive sneer.

“Of course I’m your brother! You can’t change that fact, no matter what you say!”

I scoffed, my voice laced with mockery.

“Really? You only recognize Savvy as your sister, remember? What kind of brother does that make you to me?”

Marcus visibly relaxed.

I was done arguing. I slammed the door in their faces, leaving only a final threat hanging in the air.

“Make another noise, and I’ll cut out your tongues!”

6

When I finally woke up, the house was eerily silent.

I was fully expecting the parents to come down on me for hitting Marcus, but no one did. The maid informed me that the family—all four of them—had gone out to shop for Marcus and Savvy’s joint birthday party in two days.

They went off as a happy family of four, forgetting about me entirely.

The maid looked at me with deep sympathy. Clearly, in her eyes, I was the pathetic, neglected one, abandoned while they rallied around the fake sister.

But I didn’t care. It was perfect. I had things to do, and their absence was a gift.

I took the strands of hair I had collected and drove to the private DNA testing center. I submitted the samples and waited in the lobby.

My phone chimed with text notifications. It was Savvy.

Savvy: Hmph. Mom and Dad love me the most. Look at the gift they got me.

Savvy: Even without blood, I’m still the favorite kid.

I genuinely worried about Savvy’s intelligence. Sending a threat from her personal number was wildly clumsy.

She followed up with a picture of a designer bag—a high-end, limited-edition piece.

Savvy: If you promise to stop trying to steal my parents, I’ll buy you this bag as a gift.

I glanced at the bag. It was easily a seventy-five thousand dollar piece. Savvy’s monthly allowance, while generous, wouldn’t cover that without a few months of saving.

I didn’t reply. I took a screenshot of the entire exchange and sent it directly to Mom and Dad.

Dad didn’t say a word. He just deposited $100,000 into my account.

Mom responded quickly.

Mom (Caroline): Maddie, please don’t be upset. Savvy is just like that—she has a sharp tongue but a good heart.

Mom (Caroline): Marcus told us you were asleep and needed rest after this morning, so we didn’t wake you up. I apologize. I bought you a gift, and I promise next time I will ask for your input.

Mom also transferred $100,000. Two hundred thousand dollars for one screenshot. Worth it.

I looked down at the freshly printed lab report in my hands. I realized I needed to give the family a much bigger surprise.

7

The moment I stepped back into the house, I was assaulted by Savvy’s ear-splitting wail.

A handbag flew past my head. I ducked just in time.

Savvy screamed at me, her voice hoarse.

“Madison Whitlock! If you don’t like me, just say so!”

“Why did you ruin my collectibles? That was a limited-edition error piece! And I was actually going to buy you that bag!”

She was sobbing hysterically—a more genuine show of emotion than when Marcus had fainted.

Marcus, meanwhile, was adding fuel to the fire.

“Mom, Dad, I told you she was rotten. She’s learned bad habits. She’s just jealous that we didn’t take her shopping, so she took it out on Savvy’s favorite toys. She never should have come back!”

Mom looked at me with disappointment etched on her face.

“Maddie, I told you, if you wanted something, you could just ask me. Why would you ruin the one thing your sister loves the most?”

Dad didn’t bother to scold me. He simply handed me a credit card.

“Madison, you’ve caused nothing but chaos since you arrived. For the sake of family harmony, I need you to move out. Live in an apartment downtown.”

They were already trying to kick me out?

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Marcus trying desperately to suppress a triumphant smirk.

Smile, smile, smile, I thought. Let’s see if you can still manage that in a minute.

8

I took a deep breath, gathered all my air, and shouted.

“Quiet! Hear me out!”

Savvy’s wail cut off instantly, punctuated by a hiccup. The entire room went silent.

I took a slow breath and continued.

“That’s true, there’s a possibility I could have damaged Savvy’s things. However, I didn’t.”

Marcus couldn’t contain himself. He sneered.

“Oh yeah? And we’re supposed to believe you? Who else in this house has a motive to ruin Savvy’s things?”

I smiled sweetly at him.

“Well, my brother, for one.” I paused for dramatic effect. “Oh, wait. My mistake. You’re not my brother, are you?”

Marcus’s complexion turned white as paper.

“What are you talking about?”

I pulled out the documents—a stack of photocopied DNA reports—and passed them out to everyone.

“Here you go, family. Hot off the press today. Take a look.”

When Marcus saw the title of the document, his face drained of all color. He closed his eyes and started to crumple to the floor in another dramatic faint.

I darted forward, catching him not to save him, but to grip the sensitive skin on his side and pinch hard. He gasped, his eyes flying open in genuine pain, and he was forced to stand up straight.