Chapter 1

By the time I woke inside the body of the true heir in a novel, the one everyone despised and who had never done a single decent thing, the story was already nearing its end.

My biological parents gave up on me after I framed the boy they had raised in my place one time too many.

My fiancee was hopelessly obsessed with him. She would have paid for a ten-million-dollar wedding out of her own pocket just to make him smile.

My biological sister was his fiercest protector. If I said one thing that upset him, she was ready to make me pay.

As the person everyone despised, my ending was obvious.

Everyone voted to send me away to a private behavioral-health residence.

Curled against him, my fiancee mocked me.

"Maybe you'll finally learn how to behave."

My parents withdrew everything except a monthly ten-thousand-dollar allowance. "That's the minimum support we'll give you."

"Beyond that, you're on your own."

I was so delighted that I dropped to one knee and swept them a deep, theatrical bow.

"You're too kind, Your Majesty."

The next second, every face in the room changed.

Chapter 1

The contempt around me felt almost solid enough to pierce straight through my body as I knelt on the floor, still holding the tail end of my mocking little bow.

I had been in this world for less than a minute, yet I already understood exactly where I stood.

I was the thing everyone here wanted scraped off their shoe.

Every person in the room wanted me gone before my existence offended them any further.

My biological sister, Vanessa Grayson, wrenched me to my feet, face dark with rage. She took a thick bundle of cash from Gerald Pike, the house manager, and hurled it directly at me.

Bills burst through the air, their stiff edges scratching thin red lines across my cheek.

Her red lips curled. "Micah, money is all you want, isn't it? Is this enough? You're greedy, calculating, and disgusting."

I knew the ten thousand dollars in cash was nothing more than a rich family's idea of humiliation.

The tiny diamond set into Tristan Grayson's cuff probably cost more than that.

And the tailored suit he wore would take me ten lifetimes of gig work to afford, never mind the unlimited family charge card in his pocket.

In their eyes, I shared their blood and was still worth less than the dirt beneath Tristan's shoes.

It was ridiculous, and it was sad.

But I didn't care.

All I could think was that I had landed inside a book and immediately been handed the closest thing to a winning lottery ticket.

A peaceful residential wellness campus was not somewhere someone like me could normally afford.

Now I was being offered free housing, free meals, and ten thousand dollars every month with no work attached.

They called it exile. I called it an all-expenses-paid vacation.

Ignoring my swollen forehead and stinging cheek, I carefully gathered every bill from the floor.

Then I solemnly tucked the money into my bag.

"Thank you. You're all incredibly kind."

They had clearly expected screaming, resistance, and tearful repentance.

Instead, they traded uneasy glances with one another.

Beside them, Tristan looked bright and immaculate enough to belong in a magazine. After studying the room, he suddenly spoke.

"Micah is Mom and Dad's biological son. If he resents me for taking everything that should have been his, I understand. Maybe I should be the one to leave so he can stay."

His eyes reddened as he forced out a brave, wounded smile.

Everyone immediately rushed to reassure him.

Vanessa's concern for Tristan turned into fury the second she looked at me. She kicked me aside and grabbed my collar.

"You're the one who needs to leave. You think this little performance will guilt Tristan out of his own home? Keep it up and I'll throw you into the ocean myself."

I had barely been shoved away like trash when my biological mother stepped forward and slapped me hard across the face, disappointment and disgust filling her eyes.

"How did I give birth to someone this vicious? Maybe being switched at birth was the best thing that ever happened to this family."

Terrified that Tristan might truly leave, everyone crowded around him and soothed him in gentle voices.

Then they told Rosa, the housekeeper, to throw my belongings outside Grayson Manor.

Several faded T-shirts and old jeans scattered pathetically across the front drive.

I looked down at myself and realized my clothes were cheaper than anything worn by the household staff.

Chapter 2

Against the polished wealth of Grayson Manor, I looked like someone from an entirely different social class.

Maybe some part of the original Micah still resented having everything that should have been his taken away and wondered why his own family could not love him.

A sudden, inexplicable sadness rose inside my chest.

I forced it down, ignored Tristan's triumphant little smile, and shook my head.

"I'm not planning to compete with Tristan for anything.

"If you don't believe me, I can leave right now. Just give me the address of the wellness residence, please."

The mood in the room curdled as they searched my face for signs that I was performing or secretly furious.

They were going to be disappointed.

I simply lowered my head and waited silently for them to finish venting so I could leave.

Because I genuinely loved their arrangement.

Apparently my total compliance made me as dull as a corpse.

Before long, I was sitting in the family's cheapest car on my way to Sagewater Wellness Residence, a quiet private campus outside Cedarhaven, Marroway.

Just before the door closed, Ivy Sinclair, the fiancee who had barely spoken all evening, blocked it and warned me with a frown.

"Micah, don't think acting innocent will make me forget what you did to Tristan. Give up. I will never marry you. Tristan is the only person I love."

I stared at her in confusion, nudged her hand away, and shut the door.

The engagement belonged to the original Micah, not me.

Why would I care?

Still, good manners were free, so I rolled down the window and added something helpful.

"Don't worry. I don't like you, and I won't bother you."

Ignoring Ivy's stunned and suspicious stare, I rolled the window back up without hesitation.

Three hours earlier, I had been scraping by at the bottom of society in another world.

I had lived in a cramped, windowless room in a neglected neighborhood and worked constantly just to eat.

Compared with that, being housed for free at a landscaped private wellness retreat felt luxurious.

Back in my original world, I had no relatives and no real friends.

I had only myself, struggling alone in a glittering city that never noticed whether I lived or died.

I worked myself to death, then opened my eyes to people offering me ten thousand dollars a month plus room and board.

To me, it felt like the universe had handed me a second life.

I wanted to survive in this world.

With that thought, I tried calling out to the System inside my mind and asked it to explain the original Micah's situation.

The System went quiet for a moment before answering,

"This is one of those stories where the whole cast adores the adopted heir. Your role is to help the despised biological heir reverse his fate. Several previous challengers failed, so the mission was eventually abandoned."

It sent the host's memories with the explanation, and only then did I understand what kind of life Micah had endured.

The original Micah was the Grayson family's biological son, switched with another newborn shortly after birth.

After eighteen years of surviving alone and struggling for every meal, he finally discovered his biological parents by accident.

But some things could not be repaired simply because the truth had been found.

Micah's poverty clung to him, visible in every nervous habit and every reflexive apology.

Tristan, meanwhile, had grown up inside Grayson Manor, surrounded by affection that technically belonged to someone else.

He never needed to beg for one approving look. Attention and love came to him naturally.

The biological son became the only outsider in his own family.

Worse, Tristan protected his position by repeatedly accusing Micah of hurting him.

Once everyone decided Micah was cruel and selfish, they treated him worse than the family dog.

"You could still try to win them over and become the favorite instead."

I swallowed the strange ache of recognizing too much in Micah's loneliness and rejected the suggestion.

"No. If everyone before me failed to change how much they hate him, why would I waste my life trying?

"If nobody loves me, then nobody loves me. I just want to stay alive."

The System did not argue. The mission was already abandoned, so it had no reason to force me to complete it.

After settling into my room, I began sorting through what my new life actually looked like.

Chapter 3

Sagewater wasn't a conventional psychiatric hospital.

The Graysons seemed to think sending Micah here and ignoring him would humiliate him into repentance.

Because I had agreed to the placement voluntarily, no one supervised me beyond the ordinary rules of the residential campus.

They were waiting for me to break down, confess everything, and beg to be taken back to Grayson Manor.

They had no idea this place felt like paradise to me.

Over the next few days, I absorbed Micah's memories and occasionally chatted with the System.

"Host, why don't you work a little harder, make them adore you, drain the Grayson fortune, and take me somewhere fun?"

I rejected the System's brilliant plan immediately. "No."

I was not the original Micah. I did not carry all his longing, and I wanted no deeper connection to the Graysons.

If I wanted to stand on my own in this world, I needed to rely on myself.

I reluctantly used the ten thousand dollars I had brought from the estate to buy a secondhand laptop and began taking small programming contracts.

The rest of my time went to delivery work, shop shifts, and any other legal job I could find.

There was nothing shameful about earning money. I would have collected refundable bottles from trash bins if that paid.

While I buried myself in work from morning to night, the Graysons rented the entire Rookspire Estate for Tristan's eighteenth-birthday gala three days later.

Shortly afterward, the flower shop where I worked a part‑time shift sent me out to deliver a bouquet to the estate.

I parked my battered scooter well away from the luxury cars before entering the enormous manor.

From a distance, I saw Tristan dressed like a storybook prince while guests praised him from every direction.

Next to him, I looked like something the caterers had tracked in off the driveway.

I pressed one hand over the strange ache in my chest, forced down the envy and grief that had risen from nowhere, and shook my head.

Maybe the original Micah's lingering consciousness had seen all of this and felt hurt.

Today was Micah's eighteenth birthday too, yet his biological family had not offered him so much as a message.

They saw only Tristan. They loved only Tristan. For Micah, there had always been disgust and mockery.

How could the original Micah not resent that?

Once I had myself under control, I followed Gerald to the place where the bouquet was supposed to go.

It was strange. The estate was already filled with white roses, so why had anyone ordered one useless bouquet from a small neighborhood shop?

I was never going to understand rich people.

Across the room, Tristan glanced in my direction and gave the faintest smile.

I could not tell whether he had actually seen me.

I had no desire to meet any Grayson, so I kept my head down and stayed behind Gerald.

Not long after I left the room, a disturbance broke out among the guests.

Tristan had supposedly gone to change, yet he returned in the same clothes and suddenly began crying in front of everyone.

As people rushed to ask what was wrong, his tears only became worse.

"The watch Ivy gave me is gone, and the formal suit and shoes Vanessa prepared for me have been cut apart.

"I've always tried to get along with everyone. Other than Micah hating me, I don't have enemies here."

Tristan's friend Cole Harrington heard that and punched the wall in fury.

"Micah did it. He's jealous because the Graysons love you."

Tristan staggered back as if horrified by the accusation, his face full of wounded restraint.

"I know I took Micah's place, and I know he hates me. I've tried so hard to make peace, even though he destroys the gifts I give him, steals from me, hits me when Mom and Dad aren't watching, burns me with hot water, and spreads lies about me.

"But does he really hate me enough that he has to humiliate me in front of everyone?"

"Of course he does," Cole snapped, furious on Tristan's behalf. "You're too kind. That's why someone like Micah thinks he can walk all over you."

The guests joined in, condemning me as vicious and contemptible.

Vanessa heard the commotion, abandoned the people she had been entertaining, and rushed over. "What happened? Tristan, why are you crying?"

Chapter 4

Tristan threw himself into Vanessa's arms as though he had suffered some unimaginable wrong.

"Vanessa, I'm so sad. Why does Micah hate me this much?"

After hearing the story, Vanessa's face darkened and her eyes turned vicious.

"That bastard still dared to hurt you? I'll break every bone in his body.

"Lock down the estate. Find him."

Then she gently wiped the tears from Tristan's cheeks.

Meanwhile, I knew nothing about the accusation being built around me. I had delivered the flowers exactly where I was told and was already hurrying toward my next job.

Just as I reached the exit, someone clamped both hands around my arm.

"It's him. I saw him sneaking out of Tristan's lounge. He's the thief."

Sharp fingernails dug into my skin hard enough to leave dark bruises and immediate pain.

Vanessa gave the security guards a cold look, and a second later they dragged me in front of her.

She drove the pointed toe of her heel into the back of my knee, sending pain through my leg and forcing me down hard in front of Tristan.

"You pretended not to want anything from us so we'd think you'd changed. Turns out you're exactly the same."

Dozens of judging, disgusted eyes settled on me.

I frowned from the pain, completely unaware of what they were talking about.

When I tried to stand, another guard forced me back down and held me there.

Vanessa walked over, dug her red-painted nails into my cheek, and glared down at me.

"Give back the watch and apologize to Tristan. Otherwise, you'll learn exactly what happens next."

"Why? I didn't do anything."

The crowd's contempt sharpened, and angry voices began flying toward me.

"The Graysons had the worst luck in the world finding someone like him. Rotten to the core."

"He thinks stealing a watch and ruining a suit will make him replace Tristan? Has he looked at himself?"

"Poor Tristan. Imagine putting up with someone like this for so long."

Tristan was clearly enjoying the outrage on his behalf, but he arranged his expression into patient sadness and spoke at just the right moment.

"Maybe Micah was upset and acted without thinking. It's fine. I can let it go."

Vanessa could never tolerate seeing her precious brother endure anything, and the hatred in her eyes hardened.

"What right do you have to be upset? If your life is miserable, blame your own greed and cruelty."

Only then did I understand that they thought I had stolen something.

"I didn't. I'm here delivering flowers. Gerald was with me the entire time. Bring him here and ask him."

Gerald immediately denied that the flower shop had ever been hired.

"He told me Mr. Tristan had given him permission to go inside and collect a few things. That's why I let him through."

In an instant, the story changed: I had supposedly schemed my way into the estate, stolen the watch, sabotaged Tristan's birthday, and then lied about all of it.

But I had done nothing.

"I swear he escorted me. Call the flower shop and verify the delivery order."

Vanessa watched me struggle with a cold smile.

"Still lying. Micah, you disgust me."

Just then, Richard and Elaine Grayson pushed through the crowd. Once the story was explained, both looked at me with open revulsion.

"You've humiliated this family enough. If you refuse to admit it, search him."

We were surrounded by guests, it was summer, and I wore almost nothing beyond a shirt and thin pants. A forced search in front of everyone would feel like being stripped in public.

Worse, several older men in the crowd were no longer hiding the way they stared at my body.

Humiliation surged through me as I knelt there and struggled desperately.

"I told you I didn't steal anything. You have no evidence. What right do you have to accuse me?"

"Micah, I know you love Ivy and resent me, but that watch came from her. It matters to me. Please give it back."

Chapter 5

Tristan's reddened eyes and pleading tone instantly won him even more sympathy and anger from the crowd.

Insults and disgust rained down on me from every direction.

Elaine Grayson finally lost patience, stepped forward, and slapped my face hard enough to turn my head.

"You ungrateful monster. If we'd known you were this vicious and incapable of tolerating anyone else, we should have left you where we found you instead of bringing you home.

"Search him properly. Don't leave anything unchecked."

On the day the original Micah learned he had been switched at birth, an abusive employer had withheld nearly a year's unpaid wages and thrown him out of work.

He had a fever of more than 104 degrees, no money for treatment, and was afraid to return to his room because a woman there had been sexually harassing him.

Half-conscious on the street, he saw a newspaper photograph and recognized a woman whose face looked almost exactly like his.

Overwhelmed with hope, Micah used the last of his strength to call the number connected to the article.

He thought finding his family would finally save him. Instead, it opened the door to hell.

No one truly cared whether he lived or died.

But those were the original Micah's memories, not mine.

I had been humiliated plenty in my first life. To me, the Graysons were merely wealthy, difficult people I wanted to escape.

Yet something inside me broke anyway. Beneath the humiliation was a grief so strong I could barely breathe.

It felt as though every insult had happened to me personally. My eyes burned red and my body began shaking.

The moment Elaine gave the order, several people grabbed me and began searching me by force.

After struggling failed, I went limp like a broken doll and let them do whatever they wanted.

They pulled off my shirt, shoes, socks, and outer clothes, tore my belt, and emptied the few coins and small bills from my pockets onto the floor.

If anyone there had cared even slightly less about the crowd watching, they would have taken the rest of it too.

Someone laughed while they searched me.

"Look at those bargain-bin clothes. Of course someone this broke planned to steal the watch and sell it."

A young woman nearby finally spoke with visible discomfort.

"This isn't right. Whatever you think he did, he's still a person. You can't humiliate him like this."

The spectators immediately shouted her down.

"He deserves it. People like him don't deserve sympathy."

There were no lasting physical injuries from the search itself, but the humiliation cut deeper than bruises. I dug my nails into my palms until my eyes burned.

Several minutes later, I heard Elaine's disbelieving voice. "Nothing? How can there be nothing?"

The estate was full of outsiders who could have touched anything, yet the Graysons had decided the thief had to be me.

I crouched and slowly gathered my scattered belongings, my voice rough.

"Are you finished? Can I leave now?

"If you still don't believe me, I'll call the police. If I stole a watch that expensive, they can investigate it properly instead of all of you deciding my punishment."

Keeping my eyes down, I pulled my phone from the canvas bag someone had stepped on and called 911.

Every face in the room changed.

Vanessa had clearly never imagined I would involve the police. Something strange crossed her face.

"Micah... you really didn't take it?"

I was exhausted in every possible way. Without lifting my head, I answered quietly, "I'll cooperate with whatever you want. Just please stop humiliating me.

"Please."

By the final word, I had folded almost completely toward the floor, and even my voice shook.

I had never lowered myself like this before.

The original Micah probably would have screamed and cried about how unfair they were.

But I wasn't the original Micah, and I didn't love these people.

I only wanted to stay alive.

For the first time, the Graysons looked uncertain as they stared at how completely I had been ground down.

Had they finally wondered whether they were wrong?

For one strange moment, I thought I saw pity in their eyes.

Maybe I imagined it.