Swapped by My Sister,I Made My New Family Prosper

Katharina Kowalski POV:

I sat before my vanity mirror while my maid Doris brushed carefully through my long golden hair. The girl moved with timid caution, afraid of marring a single strand. In the polished glass, my reflection stared back—fair-skinned, soft-featured, eyes curved into perpetual gentle innocence. That helpless, pitiful delicacy was my most flawless, most deadly weapon.

I twirled a string of pearls between my fingers, a fresh reward from Father, granted simply because I had “obediently” chosen to stay by his side instead of fleeing like Arlene. A cold, mocking smile tugged at my heart. Men were truly such foolish creatures. A few well-timed tears and a show of meek piety were enough to cloud their judgment entirely.

“Miss,” Doris lowered her voice, a faint, gloating edge creeping into her tone, “word has come from Beaumont Manor.”

I held my gaze steady on her reflection in the mirror. “Speak.”

Doris leaned in, barely containing her excitement. “It seems the third young master of House Beaumont, Weston, has never cared much for that Arlene. He’s instructed the old housekeeper, Mrs. Perkins, to prepare a grand ‘surprise’ for her arrival.”

A subtle, triumphant smile curved my lips. Weston Beaumont—a spoiled, empty-headed dandy. Even in my past life, he had never been capable of anything but petty, tasteless tricks. Still, he was perfectly useful for breaking Arlene down.

Memories flickered through my mind. The moment Arlene first stepped foot in Beaumont Manor all those years ago. That ridiculous brazier ritual had left her flustered and humiliated, her ankle burned raw. She had been bedridden for days, the laughingstock of the entire estate.

Now she dared to defy Father and run straight into the Beaumonts’ territory, foolishly chasing a new fate. She was walking straight into her own ruin. I would see just how long her weak, powerless mother could shield her, now that she no longer bore the protection of House Kowalski’s name.

I murmured softly, feigning idle curiosity, “What sort of surprise has he prepared?”

Doris drew closer still, her tone dripping with schadenfreude. “A so-called ‘purification ritual.’ All new arrivals must step over a blazing brazier to burn away outside ‘bad luck.’ Just imagine—she’s nothing but a crude military brat from the fortress. She’s never seen such formal, intimidating customs in her life. She’ll likely freeze up entirely, if not soil herself in fright.”

I laughed lightly, the sound soft and sweet to any outsider’s ear, cold and satisfied within my chest. Perfect. Exactly as I remembered. Rebirth was utterly divine. Every piece of the game lay firmly within my grasp.

“And Father and my brothers?” I shifted the topic casually.

“The General is still furious over Miss Arlene’s defiance,” Doris answered promptly. “Young Masters Dominic and Conrad both say to treat her as if she never existed. Whatever becomes of her out there, alive or dead, has nothing to do with House Kowalski any longer.”

Precisely as I needed. I needed the entire world to believe Arlene had been utterly cast aside by her family. Only then could I move against her without restraint, free of consequence.

I plucked a gold coin from my jewelry box and tossed it to her. “Keep a close watch. Report every scrap of news regarding her at Beaumont Manor immediately.”

Doris caught the coin, face lighting up with delight. She bowed repeatedly in thanks before retreating quietly from the room.

Silence settled over the chamber. I stared at my unblemished reflection, and the gentle mask on my face finally slipped, revealing the venomous malice hidden beneath. Arlene, my foolish, delusional sister. Did you truly believe abandoning the Kowalskis and clinging to your mother’s side would rewrite your fate?

Everything you once had—the betrothal to Julian, the family resources, the glory and status—was meant to be mine. You stole every last bit of it from me in our past life.

This time, I will never give you a single chance to rise again. I will crush you beneath my feet, pin you down so thoroughly you can never break free. You will watch helplessly as I climb step by step to the pinnacle, as I marry the most noble, powerful man in the entire empire.

The suffering you face now is only the beginning.

I rose to my feet and walked to the window, gazing toward the distant grounds of Beaumont Manor. Though it was far beyond my sight, I could picture the scene vividly in my mind. Right this moment, she must be standing before that blazing brazier, frozen and helpless, a lamb waiting to be humbled and slaughtered.

—

Arlene Sanchez POV:

I had barely stepped off the carriage and steadied my feet when a woman in her fifties approached me. Slightly plump in stature, with a sharp, unkind face, she wore a crisp, immaculately pressed housekeeper’s uniform. She introduced herself as Mrs. Perkins.

Her eyes swept over me from head to toe, brimming with unmasked contempt. “You must be Arlene Sanchez,” she drawled, as if speaking my name were a condescending chore.

I met her gaze evenly. “I am.”

Several young maids stood clustered behind her, whispering and snickering under their breath. Their eyes wandered over me openly, examining me as though I were some odd, inferior curiosity put on display.

Mrs. Perkins tilted aside with a cold, hollow smile, revealing two male servants standing behind her, holding a large brass brazier. Charcoal blazed fiercely inside, rolling waves of dry heat toward me, warming the air between us.

“By the rules of House Beaumont,” she announced haughtily, “all new arrivals must cross this purification brazier to cleanse any ill fortune clinging to them before they may enter the manor gates.”

Clara paled visibly behind me and instinctively stepped forward, trying to shield me from the confrontation.

I understood instantly. This was no ancient Beaumont tradition. It was nothing more than a humiliating power play, a petty welcoming trick devised by that spoiled brat Weston Beaumont. In my past life, I had hesitated here, flustered and nervous. A stray spark had singed my gown, and in my panic I had twisted my ankle—turning me into the entire estate’s laughingstock for days.

They expected to break me with the same trick twice?

I stared calmly at Mrs. Perkins’ self-satisfied, obedient face, every line of it screaming that she relished carrying out her young master’s petty humiliation. Already, I knew exactly how I would turn this farce back on them.