The Wrong Daughter To Betray Novel by WriterLola _ Novel





The Wrong Daughter To Betray Chapter 01

My curse was lethal, and it always came true.
When I was eight, my adoptive mother kicked me into a freezing river. I stared right at her and said, "When you go into the water, you'll drown."
The very next day, she drowned in a ditch where the water wasn't even knee-deep.
The realization that my words could actually kill people scared me into silence. From that moment on, I stopped speaking entirely.
A year ago, the Morton family brought me home. Desperate to keep their affection, I refused to utter a single word.
But today, seconds after sipping the soup I'd brought her, Melissa Morton—the girl who'd been swapped with me at birth—collapsed. She convulsed on the floor, her face turning a mottled purple.
"There's peanut powder in the soup!" one of the maids screamed.
Before I could even react, my twin brother, Trystan Morton, kicked the glass table, shattering it. Then he grabbed me by the hair and shoved my face into the shards scattered across the floor.
"You knew Mellie was severely allergic to peanuts!" he yelled. "How dare you put that in the soup!"
Mom injected Melissa with an EpiPen, then spun around and slapped me across the face. "A monster like you doesn't deserve to be part of this family!"
Dad hurled his scalding coffee right at me, his expression livid. "You snake. I can't believe you tried to kill her just to get our attention!"
The hot coffee mixed with the blood on my face and dripped onto the floor. I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to endure the pain.
They had no idea that if I actually wanted her dead, I wouldn't need to go to such lengths.
All I had to do was speak a curse.
Like right now.
I slowly lifted my head and stared at Melissa. My lips parted.
***
"It wasn't me," I pushed out, managing only a hoarse whisper.
For the past year, I had carefully buried my voice, terrified that a single wrong word would destroy everything with my newly found family.
I still remembered my first day home.
Dad had made a pot of beef stew just for me.
Mom had held my hand and promised I'd never have to suffer again.
Even Trystan—who looked ready to kill me now—had once stood up for me at school. He'd taken a brutal beating to protect me from boys who mocked me for growing up in the sticks.
Because of that, I endured everything in silence, content to live like a shadow.
"Stop lying!" Trystan shouted. "You were the only one who went into the kitchen. Who else could've done it?"
He bent over, grabbed the cross necklace around my neck, and yanked it violently.
The silver chain bit into my skin, leaving a bloody scratch right across my throat.
Mom had given me that for my birthday last year.
She had climbed all the way up to a mountaintop chapel to have it blessed, telling me it would protect me for the rest of my life.
"Don't touch it!" I thrashed, reaching out to snatch it back.
Trystan kicked me hard in the chest, knocking me flat on my back.
Then he turned away and pressed the necklace into Melissa's hand as her breathing started to level out.
"You wearing that is a blasphemy," he spat. "Only an innocent girl like Mellie deserves it."
Melissa leaned weakly against Mom, tears streaming down her face. Yet, her fingers closed tightly around the necklace that belonged to me.
"Mom, Dad... don't blame Lorena," she coughed out. "She had a rough childhood. It makes sense that she's jealous of me.
"If hurting me makes her feel better, I don't mind dying for her..."
The hatred in my parents' eyes deepened at her words.
Mom pulled Melissa closer and glared down at me.
"Mellie nearly died, and she's still trying to protect you. And here you are, still won't admit what you did!
"Mellie has always been kind-hearted; she wouldn't even hurt an ant, let alone risk her own life just to frame you."
Dad pointed toward the door, his face hardening.
"Throw her in the backyard storage shed and lock her in for three days.
"It's time she learned we Mortons don't tolerate this kind of cruelty!"
Just like that, I was locked in a windowless storage room.
It was freezing, and I was dressed in nothing but a thin, damp shirt.
Just on the other side of the wall, the living room was flooded with light.
The family doctor's steady reassurances and my mother's terrified sobs filtered through the drywall, carving a hollow ache deep into my chest.
Late the next night, the door clicked open.
Melissa stood over my stiff, shivering body, bundled up in a heavy puffer jacket with a flashlight in her hand.
"Wow, Lorena. Why are you lying there like a corpse?"
She looked nothing like the weak, pitiful victim from earlier. Her eyes gleamed with smug satisfaction.
"You know who actually added the peanut powder?"
She crouched down, shining the flashlight directly into my eyes.
"I did.
"I just wanted to see who actually mattered to Mom, Dad, and Tris—you, the biological daughter, or me, the adopted one.
"And guess what? Blood doesn't mean a thing. Even though you're related, you can't compare to me at all."
My lips were blue from the cold. I just stared at her with cold indifference, not saying a word.
In that moment, the last fragile hope I had that the Mortons might one day truly accept me shattered completely.
When I didn't answer, Melissa sneered and pulled a pocketknife from her coat.
"Tell me, Lorena. If Mom and Dad catch you stabbing me for revenge, do you think they'll send you straight to prison or just beat you to death?"
With that, she raised the blade and slashed a deep, bloody gash across her own arm.
The moment the blood gushed out, she tossed the bloodied knife down next to my hand and let out a shrill, agonized scream.
"Ah! Lorena, what are you doing? I just came to check on you! Why are you trying to kill me?"

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