Chapter 1

My name is Madisyn, and my story begins in a dirty alley behind a concert venue in Los Angeles.

I was what they call a "cannon fodder" character, destined to be a footnote in someone else's tragedy. My new siblings, Ethan and Nicole Clark, were the main event, two self-destructive teenagers from a Hollywood dynasty, spiraling towards their own ruin.

But I had a plan.

It started with Mr. Duncan, their family's loyal house manager, finding me in a cardboard box. He was a good man, his face a mixture of shock and pity as he wrapped me in his expensive suit jacket. He didn't call the police. Instead, he brought me straight to the two people who needed me most, even if they didn't know it.

He walked into the vast, cold marble foyer of the Clark mansion and presented me to the twin heirs of the Clark fortune.

"What the hell is that?" Ethan asked, his voice dripping with the kind of cynicism only a rich, neglected seventeen-year-old could master. He was all sharp angles and dark clothes, the future Hollywood bad boy in the making.

"It smells," Nicole added, wrinkling her perfectly sculpted nose. She was the queen bee of her private school, a fortress of insecurity hidden behind a mean-girl facade.

Mr. Duncan placed me on the plush, cream-colored sofa between them. I knew the script. They were supposed to be disgusted, to call social services, to get rid of the problem.

So I started to cry.

Not just any cry, but a full-throated, gut-wrenching wail that echoed off the high ceilings. I made sure my face turned red, my tiny fists clenched. I was the picture of pure, helpless misery.

"Make it stop," Nicole hissed, covering her ears.

Ethan, looking annoyed, reluctantly reached out and picked me up.

The moment his hands touched me, I stopped crying. I opened my eyes, looked right at him, and then I let out a soft, happy gurgle. I even managed a small, gummy smile.

He froze. I could feel the tension in his arms. He was supposed to be a jaded cynic, but he was just a boy who had never been properly held himself.

He tried to put me back down on the sofa.

The wailing started again, even louder this time.

"Okay, okay! Fine!" he snapped, scooping me back up.

Silence. Then, another happy gurgle.

Nicole watched this exchange, her arms crossed. "It's manipulating you."

"No, it's not," Ethan said, though his eyes told me he was completely bewildered. He awkwardly shifted me in his arms, his touch surprisingly gentle.

I knew their story. I knew everything. They were the children of a famous director and a studio executive, a power couple whose marriage was more of a corporate merger. Their parents were emotionally absent, providing endless money but zero affection. This mansion wasn't a home; it was a gilded cage where they were left to raise themselves.

They were lonely. So, so lonely.

Their predetermined fate was grim. They were destined to be used and discarded by two ambitious grifters, Jennifer Chavez and Andrew Morris. Ethan would fall for Jennifer's sweet-girl act, and Nicole would be ensnared by Andrew's savior complex. The two antagonists would pit the siblings against each other, bleed their trust funds dry, and leave them estranged and broken.

Not on my watch.

I snuggled into Ethan's chest, my tiny hand gripping his black t-shirt. He smelled like expensive cologne and teenage angst.

"We can't keep it," Nicole said, but her voice lacked conviction. She was inching closer, her curiosity overriding her disgust.

"I know," Ethan mumbled, but he made no move to hand me back to Mr. Duncan.

I turned my head and looked at Nicole. I gave her my best, most charming laugh. It was a pure, joyful sound in the silent, cavernous house.

She stared at me, her mask cracking for a second. A flicker of something soft, something vulnerable, crossed her face.

"We'll call social services in the morning," Ethan declared, trying to sound firm.

But I knew he wouldn't. He was already hooked.

Mr. Duncan, ever perceptive, simply nodded. "Of course, Master Ethan. Shall I prepare a room for... the baby?"

Ethan and Nicole exchanged a look. It was the first time they had looked at each other all day without hostility. It was a look of shared, panicked confusion.

"Just for tonight," Ethan said.

I had my foot in the door. I was officially Madisyn Clark, and my mission to derail their tragic destiny had just begun.