Their Perfect Lie, My Unseen Truth

Tentu, saya akan menambahkan POV (Point of View) ke setiap bab sesuai dengan permintaan Anda, tanpa mengubah format atau konten lainnya. My parents stood over my unrecognizable body in the marsh, complaining that I hadn't returned their calls. To my father, the lead detective, and my mother, the Chief Medical Examiner, I was just another "Jane Doe" who made bad life choices. While I watched as a ghost, my mother scoffed at the silver bracelet on my wrist-the one I made for her-calling it "tacky street trash." They spent the morning dissecting my injuries, all while praising my adopted sister, Hope, and grumbling about how I was "acting out" by missing her violin recital. They called me irresponsible and ungrateful, unaware that I had been kidnapped and murdered as revenge for one of my father's old cases. I screamed silently as they dismissed my death as the result of a "rebellious lifestyle." The insults only stopped when they found the waterproof capsule in my stomach. My father' s hands trembled as he read the note inside: "An eye for an eye, Detective Hood." Then, my mother saw the scar on my flank-the unmistakable mark of the kidney donation I had given to their perfect daughter.

Chapters

Chapter 4

Fawn POV

Deborah' s face, etched moments before with a blend of professional curiosity and a hint of dread, softened instantly when she saw the caller ID. Her voice, usually so clipped and precise, became honeyed, gentle.

"Hope, darling? Is everything alright?" she cooed into the phone, turning away slightly, as if to shield the conversation from the grim reality of the morgue.

My stomach churned, a phantom limb reacting to the familiar favoritism. Even now, with my dead body lying a few feet away, Hope was her priority.

"Are you on your way to the hall? You're not nervous, are you? You'll be brilliant, I know it." Deborah's words were a comforting balm. "Just breathe, my love. Remember all your practice. Your father and I will be there as soon as we can, I promise."

I could almost hear Hope's sweet, fragile voice on the other end, laced with just enough vulnerability to tug at my mother's heartstrings. Hope, the master manipulator. She always knew exactly what to say, how to play the part of the perfect, delicate prodigy.

"Oh, Fawn? Is she coming?" Hope' s voice, a little too innocent, a little too curious, filtered through the phone. "I thought... she said she might. It would mean so much to have her there tonight, Mother. Even if she doesn't really like classical music, it's a big night for me."

My spectral lips twisted into a bitter smile. Hope didn't want me there. She wanted to bask in the solo spotlight, unchallenged, unburdened by my presence. She wanted to know I wouldn't ruin her big night, as she always called it. She wanted to know I was out of the way.

"I know Fawn can be... difficult," Hope continued, her voice dropping to a sympathetic whisper, "and she probably thinks it's boring. But I still wish she'd come support me. She's my sister, after all."

Hope' s self-pitying act was a well-worn script, one I knew by heart. It always ended the same way: with my mother's exasperated sigh and a renewed torrent of criticism aimed squarely at me.

"Oh, Hope, don't you worry about Fawn," Deborah said, her voice already losing its warmth, replaced by a familiar sharpness. "She's just being difficult, as usual. Probably off with her hooligan friends, doing whatever it is they do. She never considers anyone but herself."

Erasmo, who was still trying to decipher the waterlogged note, glanced up, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. "Fawn ghosted us again, didn't she?" he asked, not really a question. "Typical. Always has to make a scene, always has to be the center of attention by not being there."

"Exactly," Deborah snapped, her voice tightening. "She knows how important tonight is for you, Hope. For us. But she just can't bring herself to be a supportive sister. She's irresponsible, ungrateful, and frankly, a disgrace to this family sometimes. Unlike you, my precious girl."

My eyes, now just vacant sockets, burned with a rage I couldn't express. Irresponsible? Ungrateful? I gave up a kidney for Hope! A part of my actual body, a part of my life, for her. And this is how they repaid me? With scorn and dismissal?

"You focus on your performance, my love," Deborah said, her voice softening once more for Hope. "Your father and I will handle Fawn. She will be there. Or she will regret it. I'll make sure of it."

A sweet, triumphant giggle floated from the phone. "Thank you, Mother. You're the best. I love you both so much."

"We love you too, dearest," Deborah murmured, her eyes distant, already imagining Hope's beaming face on stage. She hung up, a tight, annoyed expression settling on her features.

"That girl," Deborah sighed, shaking her head. "Always so sweet, so understanding. Trying to make excuses for Fawn, even when Fawn is being utterly ridiculous." She glanced at Erasmo. "See? Hope actually cares about family. Fawn just... exists."

Exists? I scoffed, a silent, bitter laugh. I died. For you. Because of you.

They never understood. My name, Fawn Hood, was my birthright, but it felt like a burden. I had tried to change it, to distance myself from the "Hood" legacy, but Deborah had been adamant. "A Bishop doesn't change her name casually, Fawn. You carry important lineage." But she wanted me to not change the name because she wanted to control me and wanted to control my identity.

Yet, in their hearts, I was never truly their daughter. Hope was. Hope, the beautiful, talented, perfect adopted daughter. The one who brought them pride, bathed them in reflected glory. I was just the messy, inconvenient biological child.

When you find out who I am, I thought, a shiver running through my spectral form, when you realize the "Jane Doe" is me, the "irresponsible, ungrateful" Fawn, I wonder what that perfect daughter will have to say.

The truth, a chilling whisper, started to form. If they had answered my calls, if they hadn't been so consumed with Hope's recital and their own resentments, maybe I wouldn't be here. Maybe I'd still be alive.

And Hope? Hope knew. She knew I was in trouble. She had gotten my distress texts. But her spotlight was more important.

Continue to next part

Naomi Ray would do anything to prevent her mother from dying in the hospital even though it involves stealing A fifty million dollars worth cufflinks from her best friend boss. What happens when this man turn out to be someone more dangerous than she thought. Enzo Vitale is a ruthless billionaire boss, who doesn't show mercy and he is the talk of the town. Everyone says he is dangerous, and had never seen him up close before. Until Naomi Ray made the most terrible mistake stealing from him.

Action Billionaire Modern

9.3

Ex - Husband's Late Redemption

9.3

After the divorce, I took my bruised and exhausted self to a charming little town in the south. I assumed a new identity, got a different phone, and cut all connections with my frenetic life in London. Everyone thought I had died in that notorious crisis that rocked the military world. For three years, white lilies appeared on my grave without fail. Then, one day, the glass door of my café swung open, and in walked someone I knew. Stunned, he asked why I hadn't returned if I was still alive. Didn't I know that Graham Ortiz had been consumed with guilt over me, nearly ending his own life? Graham Ortiz, my ex-husband, was a military man who had a rivalry spanning more than twenty years with a fellow soldier. They had vowed never to marry, battling each other until old age. But Graham fell in love with me the moment he saw me, pursued me tirelessly, and eventually, I became his wife.

Action Modern Romance

9.1

FRACTURED Goodness

9.1

Amélie Rousseau grows up believing that honesty, hard work, and faith will save her from poverty. Paris proves her wrong. Despite her brilliance, every door stays closed-until the day Clara Duval, the woman Amélie once helped, steals her future through lies, favors, and corruption. When Amélie dares to speak up, the system silences her and laughs. That is when Monsieur Lefèvre offers her a way out. Under his guidance, Amélie learns the true language of power-deception, loyalty, and sacrifice. One lie leads to another, and soon she rises in the same world that once rejected her. But Julien Moreau, the man who loves the girl she used to be, watches her change. At the height of her success, Amélie must choose: destroy Julien to protect her empire, or expose the corruption and lose everything. Because in Paris, goodness is not free- and survival always demands a price.

Action Adventure LitRPG

7.2

Give Me Your Life, My Beloved Wife

7.2

She is a cunning princess. She accidentally binds the wrong person, causing the devil to come. He is a ruthless business leader. A contract imprisons her, and a game called revenge begins. He hated her, but he refused to kill her... Love is a poison. Although it was highly toxic, Alice still looked up and drank it. Her life has three memories. They only cry for that man and laugh for that man.

Action Modern Romance

7.3

He Chose The Nanny, I Chose Revenge

7.3

Clara came home from a fourteen-hour board meeting to the sound of a piercing scream in the playroom. When she rushed in, she found her husband, Chadwick, kneeling on the floor in a panic. But he wasn't looking at their five-year-old son, Leo, who had a massive bleeding welt on his forehead. Instead, Chadwick was trembling as he held the nanny's daughter, Autumn, who barely had a microscopic scratch. "She needs ice. And antibacterial ointment," Chadwick snapped, carrying the nanny's daughter away and leaving his bleeding son behind. From that moment, the nightmare only escalated. Chadwick ordered Clara to cook a three-hour meal for the nanny's kid, threw away Leo's favorite toys because Autumn sneezed, and even secretly took the nanny and her daughter on Leo's promised Disney trip. The final humiliation came at the Met Gala. Right before their sponsor speech, Chadwick received a frantic call from the nanny claiming Autumn was having a panic attack. He abandoned Clara in front of hundreds of flashing cameras, sprinting out of the ballroom. Clara stood completely alone, the humiliation eating through her veins like acid. She couldn't understand how a father could call the nanny's kid his "little princess" while watching his own son cry. Why was he treating his own flesh and blood like garbage just to play savior to another woman's child? Suddenly, the blinding camera flashes were blocked by a massive shadow. Erasmo Chase, the heir to New York's largest financial dynasty, stepped out of the darkness and shielded her. "A man like that is unworthy of your grief, Ms. Best," he whispered, pressing a silk handkerchief into her trembling hand. Looking at the sharp profile of the powerful man beside her, Clara's shock hardened into a lethal, cold fury. She was going to dump her family's shares, crash the board, and make Chadwick lose absolutely everything.

Action Modern Mystery

7.1

Her Vicious Art, His Dark Obsession

7.1

For ten years, my family kept me locked away, forcing me to play the part of a broken, mentally unstable girl. They controlled me with sedatives and treated me like a ghost in my own home, a prisoner in a gilded cage. But I had a secret. I was a world-famous anonymous artist with a hidden fortune, and I had an escape plan. On the day of my cousin's wedding, my rebellion was accidentally witnessed by a dangerous stranger who saw the predator beneath my fragile mask. To silence him, I dragged him into a dark closet. The encounter turned raw and reckless, a violent collision I used as the perfect cover for my escape. I vanished with a new name and a one-way ticket to a new life, leaving him with nothing but a bloodstain and the bitter taste of betrayal. I thought I was free, that I had successfully buried the girl I was forced to be and the man I was forced to use. Three months later, on a superyacht in Monaco, he found me. He wasn't just some wealthy guest; he was the ruthless head of a powerful crime syndicate, and I was trapped in his private penthouse. He locked the door, his eyes black with possessive rage. "The game is over," he whispered. "This time, you're not running."

Action Billionaire Mystery

Their Perfect Lie, My Unseen Truth

Chapter 4

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