My Sister Is Not The Bride

My mother suddenly told me she had found the long-lost daughter we'd been separated from for years.

My heart skipped a beat, and my eyes fixated on the photo she held out. I pointed toward the corner, my voice cold.

"Then move my things out. "

She pushed my hand away gently. "Leo, what's going through your head? Even if your sister is back, you're still my little cub."

I bit back a growl. She's just trying to hold me back.

She wants to keep her perfect family together, even if it means putting me aside for that stranger.

"Fine, but I want a new car. Otherwise, forget it."

Mom shot me a strange look but didn't argue. "Do whatever you want," she said, dismissively.

What? She wouldn't even give me that?

She was so eager to embrace her biological daughter, but couldn't spare a damn car for me?

Dad had just gone to pick up my sister.

She was downstairs, and I was about to make my entrance.

I put on my most dazzling watch and headed down the stairs, determined to make her feel out of place.

Mom and my brother were already waiting by the door. And there she was-my sister.

I froze.

The woman standing with Dad was elegant, graceful, her long hair cascading down her shoulders.

Sunlight caught her, casting an ethereal glow around her, her presence calm but undeniable.

She exuded an aura of quiet authority, as if the world had always bent to her will.

That's my sister?