The Unscripted Heiress Chapter 1

After the Sinclair family finally acknowledged me, they forced me onto a reality show to be the villain in my perfect, counterfeit sister’s fairytale.

They wanted me to be the train wreck, the backwoods cautionary tale that would make their "perfectly harmonious" family look even better.

The first time around, I endured it. The result? A nationwide hate campaign that ended with me taking a long step off a short rooftop.

This time, on the first day of filming, things would be different.

Audrey, the girl who had stolen my life, cooed at me in that syrupy-sweet voice of hers. “Sloane, darling, you just got here from… wherever, so you might not know how things work. Daddy prefers a fresh pour-over in the morning. Why don’t you go get that started?”

In front of the live-streaming cameras, I slapped her across the face.

“You’re a cuckoo in the nest, an imposter. Who the hell do you think you are, giving me orders?”

I looked down at her, my voice dropping to ice. “And don’t you dare call me sister. My mother only had one daughter.”

The entire crew went silent. The internet, however, exploded.

* * *

The crack of the slap was sharp and clean, echoing through the cavernous living room.

Audrey cupped her cheek, tears instantly welling in her wide, innocent eyes. She stared at me, a perfect portrait of disbelief.

“Sloane… why did you hit me?” Her voice trembled, as if she’d just been dealt the cruelest blow imaginable.

I gave a cold laugh and shook the sting from my hand.

“Consider that a lesson in knowing your place.”

“In the Sinclair family, I’m the root, and you’re the weed. And no matter how lush a weed grows, it always gets pulled for the root.”

The camera was pointed right at us, capturing every raw, unfiltered second.

The live-stream comments went into a frenzy.

[HOLY S**T! The show just started and we’re already here? Is the real daughter always this intense?]

[GOOD. I can’t stand that two-faced type. ‘Sister’ to your face, knife in your back.]

[Um, what? Audrey was just trying to be helpful. That girl from the sticks is seriously unhinged.]

[Get out of here with your high-and-mighty act. Did you not see the way she was ordering her around? Like she was the damn queen.]

A dead silence had fallen over the living room.

Behind the monitors, I could see the director rubbing his hands together, his eyes gleaming with delight.

My dear mother, Catherine, was the first to snap out of it.

She lunged forward, pulling Audrey behind her as she glared at me.

“Sloane! What is wrong with you!”

“You apologize to Audrey this instant!”

I looked at her perfectly preserved, Botox-smooth face. It was the exact same expression she’d worn in my last life when she’d forced me to my knees to beg for forgiveness.

Back then, I was terrified of her—terrified this mother who had abandoned me and then summoned me back would cast me out all over again.

So I knelt. I apologized.

All I got for it was more humiliation, more abuse, and an endless torrent of online vitriol.

Now, all I felt was a hollow, bitter amusement.

“Apologize?”

I met her gaze, speaking each word with deliberate calm.

“Could she even handle it?”

“Catherine, you dumped me in the middle of nowhere and didn't give me a second thought for eighteen years. You really think you have the right to teach me anything now?”

“Go on, ask her. Ask the imposter who built her life on my mother’s pity why I, the actual daughter, should apologize to her.”

The color drained from Catherine’s face.

She never imagined I would air our dirty laundry on a live broadcast.

“You… What are you talking about!” she stammered, her voice shrill with panic.

“When did I ever abandon you! It was…”

“It was what?” I stepped toward her, refusing to back down.

“Was it the nanny who conveniently ‘lost’ me? Or did you spend eighteen agonizing years searching for me? Spare me the soap opera script. You don't even believe your own lies.”

My father, Richard Sinclair, shot to his feet, his face a thundercloud.

“That’s enough, Sloane!” he boomed, his voice layered with the authority he was so used to wielding.

“Don’t air our dirty laundry in public! Do you have to make a scene for the whole world to see?”

“Go to your room! Now! And think about what you’ve done!”

I laughed as if he’d just told the funniest joke in the world.

“Dirty laundry?”

“Forcing me onto this pathetic show to be a prop for your fake daughter—that’s not dirty laundry?”

“But the moment I fight back, it’s a family disgrace?”

“Richard, is your hypocrisy really that shameless?”

Richard was trembling with rage, pointing a finger at me, speechless.

My brother, Ethan, who had been silent until now, walked over, his brow furrowed in disapproval.

He grabbed my arm. “Sloane, stop it.” His tone was laced with reprimand.

“Audrey is part of this family now. You just got here. You can’t be so hostile.”

I ripped my arm from his grasp, staring at the brother I had once trusted more than anyone.

This was the same brother who, while I was being torn apart by the entire internet, had posted a single, devastating tweet.

“I only have one sister. Audrey.”

That tweet was the final straw that broke me.

“Hostile?” I smiled at him, a smile that didn't reach my eyes.

“Ethan, let’s get something straight. I am your sister. Your actual, biological sister.”

“You wag your tail for a stranger while you bare your teeth at your own blood. What the hell does that make you?”

“You’re not just blind, you’re a goddamn traitor.”

Ethan’s face went from red to a blotchy purple.

My entire family, silenced by one person.

In the live stream, the comments were a waterfall.

[My god, she’s the internet’s patron saint of clapbacks! She says EVERYTHING!]

[YES! This is what I’m talking about! I live for watching these fake, sweet girls get what they deserve!]

[This family is disgusting. They’re the ones who wronged her, but they act like she owes them something.]

[I’m officially a fan. Sloane, destroy them all!]

Audrey, hiding behind Catherine, was a sobbing, trembling mess.

She peered at me with a look of pure venom, as if I were her mortal enemy.

I knew this was just the beginning.

The trial, broadcast live to the nation, had only just begun.