The courtyard basked in bright sunshine, the cicadas' shrill cries piercing the air. I knelt on the scorching stone slabs, my white ceremonial blanket—the symbol of purity—trampled into the dirt. The sharp heel of a high shoe pressed against the back of my neck, steadily increasing pressure. "Don't move," she whispered, leaning down until her crimson lips nearly brushed my earlobe. "Otherwise, I'll make sure your face never deserves the title of 'older twin sister' again." I bit through my tongue. The metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth. She laughed, as if watching an insignificant ant struggle. "You really think wearing this white blanket makes you the real heiress? Last night, your father called me—asking whether I wanted to send you back." Before the last word faded, a dark figure lunged forward. "Let her go!" A man shouted, sharply dressed in a suit, the cold glint of his wristwatch flashing under the sun. She slowly raised her head, still smiling. "Oh? So protective? But wasn't it you who signed the papers for electroshock therapy at the mental hospital last time?" The man's pupils contracted sharply. I seized the moment to break free and stagger toward the house. Behind me, their confrontation blurred into indistinct voices. I didn’t stop until I crashed into the bedroom and locked the door behind me. Trembling, I pulled out my phone and dialed the number I’d memorized ten years ago. It rang seven times. Then connected. But on the other end—only breathing. Heavy, restrained, as if someone was deliberately hiding their pain. "Dad…" My voice broke. "She knows I'm fake… They all know…" Three seconds of silence. Then a soft click. The line went dead. Night fell. Curled up in the corner of the bed, I sobbed until my sleeve was soaked with tears. Suddenly, the doorknob turned gently. I looked up in terror. Standing outside was the man from earlier. He wasn’t wearing his suit anymore—just black clothes, his eyes filled with conflicting emotions. He spoke softly, "Do you remember what happened the year you turned five? How your younger sister died?" My entire body froze. He stepped closer, voice dropping even lower. "You’re not the older sister. You were chosen—a replacement, an experiment." "And the real twins?" He paused. "They're still alive." In 1960s America, poor pianist Lucy Lay is sold to marry the rich and mysterious heir, Hannibal Rich. Trapped in a gilded cage, she uncovers forbidden desires and sibling obsession, particularly from Hannibal's twin, Anat. Lucy must confront the darkness and uncover the truth to survive.