The Sister I Never Knew (And the Life I Stole)

Identical twins separated at birth are forced to switch places when one’s modeling career spirals into darkness. What they discover will change both their lives forever.

Chapter 1: The Stranger at the Door

I was sixteen when my mother knocked on our door for the first time in my life.

Well, technically the first time I could remember. She’d held me once when I was a month old, right before she took my twin sister Mila and left my father and me behind in our small village outside Moscow.

That Friday evening, I was curled up in my usual spot by the window, journal open in my lap, lost in a story about a girl who could speak to ghosts. Dad was making dinner—his famous mushroom soup that filled the house with the smell of dill and butter.

“Tiana, sweetie, are you sure you don’t want to come to town with me? The Petrovs are having a party. There will be other kids your age.”

“I’m fine, Dad. Besides, you know I’m terrible at parties.”

“You’re not terrible. You’re just shy. I worry about you spending so much time alone.”

“I’m not alone. I have you. And my stories.”

He smiled sadly, and I knew what he was thinking—that a sixteen-year-old girl should have friends, should be interested in boys, should want more than quiet evenings with her aging father.

The knock came before he could say anything else.

Dad’s expression changed instantly—confusion, then recognition, then something that looked like barely controlled anger. He moved to the door before I could ask questions.

When he opened it, I saw her.

She looked like an older, more polished version of me. Same dark hair, but professionally styled. Same green eyes, but with expensive makeup. She wore a long fur coat that probably cost more than our entire house.

“Elena,” Dad’s voice was ice. “What are you doing here?”

“I need to see my daughter.”

“You mean the daughter you haven’t seen in sixteen years?”

“Tiana,” the woman—my mother—called past Dad, spotting me. “Oh my God, you’re all grown up. And so beautiful.”

I stood frozen. This was my mother. The woman who’d left me.

“You need to leave,” Dad said.

“Please. Just five minutes. It’s about Mila. It’s an emergency.”

The name of my twin sister hung in the air. Dad’s jaw clenched, but he stepped aside.

Chapter 2: The Proposal

My mother sat on our threadbare couch like she belonged there, her designer clothes a stark contrast to our simple home.

“It’s about your sister,” Mom said. “Mila is a model. Very successful. But she’s been struggling lately. Mental health issues. She quit her contract suddenly, and if she doesn’t complete it, we’ll be sued for an enormous amount.”

“What does this have to do with Tiana?” Dad asked.

Mom looked at me directly. “You’re identical twins. No one would know the difference. I need you to fill in for her. Just until the contract is complete.”

The silence was deafening.

Then Dad exploded. “Are you insane? You haven’t seen your daughter in sixteen years, and this is why you come back? To use her?”

“I’m trying to save both my daughters—”

“Get out of my house. Now.”

They argued while I sat frozen. Finally, Mom left, but not before slipping me a business card.

“Think about it, Tiana. Your father mentioned you write stories. I know people in publishing. I could make your dreams come true.”

That night, I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about the business card on my nightstand, about my mother’s promise to publish my stories, about the twin sister I’d never met.

And the next morning, when Mom called, I made a decision that would change everything.

Chapter 3: Into the City

Three days later, I stood in front of a mansion in Moscow’s most exclusive neighborhood, a single suitcase at my feet.

The house was obscene. Marble floors, crystal chandeliers, artwork that probably cost more than Dad’s annual salary.

“Your room is upstairs,” Mom said, snapping her fingers at a young woman in a uniform. “You’ll meet Mila later—she doesn’t leave her bedroom much these days.”

“Wait—she never comes out?”

“It’s complicated. Try to be understanding.”

That evening, I was unpacking when I heard the scream.

I rushed into the hallway to find a maid covered in pasta sauce, vegetables splattered across the pristine white walls.

“I told her I wanted pizza,” a cold voice said. “Not these soggy vegetables.”

I turned to see my mother and another girl who looked exactly like me. Same face, but her eyes held an entitled rage I’d never seen in a mirror.

Mila. My twin sister.

“Excuse me,” I said before I could stop myself. “She has a name, doesn’t she?”

Both women turned to me. Mila’s eyes narrowed.

“So you’re the replacement. Mom told me about her brilliant plan.” She stepped closer. “We may look identical, but you’re going to need a lot of work. Your skin is blotchy. Your hair is a disaster.”

She swept past me. “Welcome to my life, sister. Try not to ruin it.”

As I lay in bed that night, I couldn’t help but wonder: Who was Mila when she was herself? And what had turned her into this person?

Chapter 4: The First Day

My alarm went off at five a.m. A stylist transformed me in two hours—trimming my hair, teaching me how to walk, how to stand, how to smile.

“You are Mila Volkov,” he said. “You are elegant. Expensive. Untouchable.”

When I walked into the studio, I felt the hostility immediately. Everyone was staring. Whispering.

“You’re here,” the makeup artist said. “I thought you quit.”

As she worked on my face, I asked: “Why does everyone here hate me?”

She paused. “You bullied every person here. You got three assistants fired. You threw a phone at a photographer. Should I go on?”

My stomach dropped. This was my sister. This was the life I’d agreed to step into.

During the shoot, I was paired with another model—a young man named Vlad who wouldn’t make eye contact with me.

During a break, I approached him. “I wanted to apologize—”

“Don’t. You humiliated me in front of thousands of people. You stood on a stage and told the world you were dumping me because I’d gained weight.”

I felt sick. “That’s horrible. I’m so sorry.”

“Are you though? Or are you just sorry because you need me to work with you?”

He walked away, and I realized how deep this went. How much damage Mila had done.

Chapter 5: The Real Mila

That night, I heard crying from behind Mila’s closed door. Soft, muffled, like someone trying not to be heard.

I knocked gently. “Mila? Are you okay?”

“Go away.”

“I met Vlad today. He seemed really hurt.”

Silence. Then, quietly: “Is he okay?”

“Can I come in? Just for a minute?”

The door opened a crack. Mila’s face appeared—no makeup, red eyes, her hair messy and unwashed.

I stepped into her room and tried not to react. It was beautiful but also a disaster. Plates of half-eaten food everywhere. The curtains drawn tight against the sunlight.

“How was your first day being me?” she asked.

“Honestly? Horrible. Everyone hated me.”

“Good. Now you know how it feels.”

“Why did you say those things to Vlad? On stage, in front of everyone?”

Her face crumpled. “I wasn’t myself. I was so stressed and exhausted and I just wanted to hurt someone the way I was hurting. I’m a monster. I know I am.”

“Do you still love him?”

“Every day. But I can’t take back what I did.”

We sat in silence. Finally, Mila spoke again.

“I have anxiety. Depression. An eating disorder. The modeling industry isn’t kind to people like me. People who feel too much.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Maybe you’ll do better. Maybe you won’t let it destroy you.”

But I didn’t know then what I was walking into.

Chapter 6: Becoming Someone Else

The next few weeks blurred together. And slowly, impossibly, people started treating me better.

I’d apologized to everyone. Brought coffee. Remembered names. Treated people like human beings.

“You’ve really changed,” one assistant said. “Whatever you’re doing—therapy, medication—keep doing it.”

And Vlad… Vlad was the hardest.

One day during a lighting adjustment, I whispered: “I know you don’t believe me, but I really am sorry. You didn’t deserve what happened to you.”

He looked at me, really looked. “You’re different. I don’t know what happened, but you’re not the same person.”

After the shoot, he asked me to coffee.

I should have said no. I should have remembered this wasn’t my life.

Instead, I said yes.

We talked for hours. He told me about his childhood, his dreams. I told him about my writing, my stories—quickly covering by saying I’d taken up writing as therapy.

“That’s actually really cool. I’d love to read something you wrote someday.”

Coffee became dinner. Dinner became long walks through Moscow. And somewhere along the way, I stopped pretending.

I was falling for him. Not as Mila. As myself. As Tiana.

And that was a problem.

Chapter 7: The Sister’s Jealousy

Mila saw everything from her bedroom window. One night, I came home to find her waiting in my room.

“You’re spending a lot of time with Vlad,” she said.

“We’re just friends.”

“Bullshit. I see how he looks at you. How you look at him.”

“He’s not a possession. And you dumped him, remember?”

“I made a mistake. I was sick. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“Then apologize to him. Tell him the truth about what you were going through.”

“He won’t listen.” She stepped closer, desperation in her eyes. “Don’t take him from me, Tiana. Please. I’ve lost everything else.”

“You’re falling in love with him.”

I couldn’t deny it.

She slapped me.

We both froze, shocked.

“Get out,” I said quietly.

This was getting too complicated. Too real. I needed to finish this contract and go home.

But then everything changed.

Chapter 8: The Diet

The next morning, I found an envelope on my dressing table. Inside was a meal plan. Eight hundred calories a day.

“What is this?” I asked the photographer.

“Your diet plan. You need to drop some weight for the swimwear shoot.”

“This diet could make me sick.”

“You’ve done this diet before. Multiple times.” She paused. “Are you about to have another mental breakdown?”

Another mental breakdown.

This was what had happened to Mila. This was how they’d treated her. Starved her. Criticized her. Broken her down until she couldn’t function.

I left immediately and burst into the house, shouting Mila’s name.

When I got to her room, the smell hit me first. Rotting food. She’d been sneaking meals, hiding them everywhere.

“Tell me the truth,” I said. “Do you have an eating disorder?”

She slid down the door until she was sitting on the floor.

“They started giving me those diets when I was fourteen. Said I was too heavy for the camera. So I’d starve myself. Get so hungry I couldn’t think. Then I’d binge. Then feel guilty.”

“That’s when you broke down?”

She nodded, tears streaming. “I stopped being able to function. Started screaming at people. I took out all my self-hatred on everyone around me. Especially Vlad.”

“Why Vlad?”

“Because he loved me even when I hated myself. And I couldn’t stand it. So I tore him apart. Told him he was fat. Worthless. Everything I felt about myself.”

I sat beside her, and she leaned into me, sobbing.

“We’re going to fix this,” I said. “Both of us. Together.”

Chapter 9: The Lawsuit

I called Dad. “I need you to come to Moscow. And bring a lawyer. I’m going to sue the modeling agency.”

But first, I had one more thing to do.

I went to the agency’s main office. Mom was there, meeting with executives about my contract extension.

I walked into the conference room without knocking.

“I’m not Mila. My name is Tiana Volkov. I’m Mila’s identical twin sister. I’ve been pretending to be her because you were going to sue her for breaking a contract that was destroying her health.”

Mom’s face went white. “Tiana, what are you—”

“This agency gave my sister eating disorders through cruel diets and constant body shaming. You created a hostile work environment. And I have proof.”

The door opened. Mila walked in.

Everyone gasped. Two identical girls, standing side by side.

“She’s telling the truth,” Mila said. “And I’m here to testify against you.”

Then more footsteps. Vlad walked in.

He stared at us—at me and Mila together—his eyes huge.

“What the hell is going on?”

Chapter 10: The Truth Comes Out

“Vlad, I can explain.”

He looked between us. “You’re twins. Which one have I been working with?”

“Me. My name is Tiana. I’ve been pretending to be Mila for two months.”

“So everything—all our conversations—that was you? Not Mila?”

“Yes.”

Mila stepped forward. “I’m sorry, Vlad. I should have told you the truth. But I was jealous and scared.”

The room erupted. Executives shouting. Mom crying. Lawyers calling other lawyers.

In the chaos, Vlad pulled me into the hallway. Mila followed.

“I need the truth. All of it.”

So we told him everything.

When we finished, Vlad was quiet.

“I don’t know how to feel. Part of me is angry. But part of me understands why.”

“I’m sorry,” Mila said. “For everything I did to you. You deserved someone who loved you the way you deserved to be loved.”

“And Tiana gave me that?”

“I didn’t mean to fall for you,” I said. “But I stopped pretending and started being myself.”

“I fell for you too. But I don’t even know who you really are.”

“Neither do I. I need to figure out who Tiana is before I can be anything to anyone.”

Mila touched my shoulder. “She’s brave. She’s kind. And if you’re smart, Vlad, you’ll wait for her.”

Epilogue: One Year Later

The lawsuit took months. The agency paid Mila damages. Several executives lost their jobs. Mom lost custody of Mila, who moved back to the village with Dad.

I got my stories published—not through Mom’s connections, but through an agent I found myself. My first book came out to good reviews.

Mila was in therapy, getting the help she needed. We talked every day, trying to catch up on sixteen lost years.

And Vlad… Vlad texted sometimes. Asking how I was doing. But we hadn’t seen each other since everything came out.

Until my book launch in St. Petersburg.

After the reading, after everyone else had left, he approached me.

“Congratulations. The book is beautiful.”

“You read it?”

“Of course. I wanted to see the real you.” He paused. “And I think I’d like to get to know you better. Not Mila. Just Tiana.”

“I’d like that too. But I need time.”

“I can wait. You’re worth waiting for.”

He kissed my cheek and left.

One year later, we had our first real date as real people. Not Mila and Vlad. Tiana and Vlad.

And somewhere in our village, my twin sister was watching her favorite shows and smiling, knowing I’d finally found my happy ending.

Not in her life. Not in her career. Not in her reflection.

But in my own story. The one I’d been writing all along.