Stolen Identity: Mute Heiress

By the time Abigail arrived in Blue York and at the condo she was to share with Genevieve, she was much calmer but exhausted.

Standing in the middle of Genevieve's room and surrounded by her luggage, Abigail rolled her stiff shoulders, trying to get rid of the ache left by the weight of the heavy bags she had carried herself.

She couldn't distinguish if it was funny or sad that she had traveled ahead of Genevieve with all their luggage while all Genevieve was bringing down the next day was her handbag.

This was no doubt a reminder of her unspoken role in Genevieve's life—the role she had been assigned without consent, the one she played so well that no one even noticed her discomfort.

Although her heart was heavy, it also felt strangely light. Genevieve wouldn't be here until tomorrow. This was her one night of peace.

She had not known one night of peace away from Genevieve all her life. This was going to be the very first time she spent a night away from Genevieve, and Genevieve had only allowed that because she wanted her to unpack her bags and organize the place before her royal arrival.

Thankfully, the apartment was immaculate since she had hired a cleaning agency to send people to clean up the condo before her arrival.

Still, Abigail couldn't resist the urge to tidy up. It was a habit ingrained in her, a way to occupy her hands when her thoughts became too loud.

Without wasting time, she walked toward the windows, pulling open the heavy curtains to let in the late afternoon sunlight. Dust motes danced in the golden beams, swirling lazily.

She turned her attention to the most important task at hand: Unpacking Genevieve's suitcase.

The suitcase was packed with designer clothes, shoes, and accessories Abigail could never dream of wearing unless, of course, they were handed down by Genevieve.

Abigail unzipped it and began unpacking, carefully placing each item in its designated spot. Dresses in one section of the closet, shoes lined up neatly on the racks, jewelry in the velvet organizer Genevieve insisted on bringing everywhere.

As she worked, Abigail's mind wandered. College. She had waited years for this moment, hoping it would be her escape. Yet, even now, she couldn't shake the feeling that nothing would change.

In high school, she had been forced to share Genevieve's schedule, take Genevieve's tests, and complete Genevieve's projects while Genevieve did hers, however poorly she did it.

She was the shadow to Genevieve's light, the silent force that ensured Genevieve's brilliance shone unchallenged.

Would college be any different? Would she finally be allowed to breathe, to exist as herself? Or would she continue to be Genevieve's invisible twin, the one who worked tirelessly behind the scenes while Genevieve basked in the spotlight?

She doubted that. Not when she had once again been made to apply to the same college and choose the same major as Genevieve.

Why were they doing this to her? Why was she being punished for her late mother's crime? Or was it because she was born mute?

Abigail sighed, her hands pausing mid-fold as she stared down at a sequined dress that sparkled under the sunlight.

Her gaze drifted to the full-length mirror by the closet. She hesitated, then walked toward it, the sequined dress still in her hands.

She stood there for a moment, studying her reflection. The blonde wig sat perfectly on her head, as always. It was an extension of her father's expectations, a symbol of the person she was supposed to be.

Slowly, almost reverently, Abigail set the dress aside and reached up to pull the wig off. Her real hair, dark brown and slightly wavy, fell around her shoulders. She ran her fingers through it, her chest tightening as she stared at herself.

Reminding herself that she could take this off now that neither her father nor Genevieve was here. There was no one around who knew her here to report her; she walked over to the bathroom, rinsed her hands, and then took off the blue contact lenses next, revealing her hazel eyes— warm and earthy, so different from the icy blue she was made to wear for reasons she couldn't understand.

She stared at her reflection for a moment, a small smile tugging at her lips. She had forgotten what it felt like to truly see herself.

And now she wanted to know who she was beneath the disguise, beneath the rules and expectations.

An idea began to form in her mind, one that sent a thrill down her spine. What if, just for tonight, she stepped out as herself? No wig, no contact lenses, no pretense. Genevieve and their father would never know. Genevieve wouldn't arrive until tomorrow, and Abigail had the apartment to herself. The thought was both exhilarating and terrifying.

Her smile grew as the idea took hold. She turned away from the mirror and took out her phone to browse for fun places around.

She spent some time searching for a place to hang out, and then she settled on a club since she had never been to one and was curious to experience it and understand why Genevieve enjoyed clubbing so much.

Satisfied with her decision, she hurried to finish unpacking. She worked quickly now, her movements fueled by a newfound sense of determination. Once the suitcase was empty and the room was in perfect order, she headed to her bedroom to freshen up.

The cool water on her face felt like a baptism, a cleansing of all the pain and humiliation she had endured earlier that day. She toweled off and went to Genevieve's closet— not to take something of hers, but to find inspiration.

She chose a simple body-con dress from her own suitcase, one that she had bought secretly with her savings. It was a soft lavender color, modest yet flattering. She paired it with a pair of heeled sandals that felt comfortable and natural.

As she added a finishing touch to her look, she ordered an Uber ride. When she was done, she looked at herself in the mirror again. She hardly recognized the person staring back. She looked… alive. Free.

Her heart raced as she grabbed her small purse and stepped toward the door. For the first time since she could remember, she felt like she could breathe.

Tonight, she was Abigail— not Genevieve's shadow, not the mute girl everyone overlooked, but just Abigail.

Just as she got into the cab, her phone buzzed with a notification, and her heart skipped a beat when she took it out and saw the headline of the news notification from a gossip blog she followed.

[SHOCK AS SEX TAPES OF GENEVIEVE HARRIS IS RELEASED ON HER BIRTHDAY]