She Faked Blindness to Steal My Life
328 Views · Ongoing · Daisy Swift
The day I secured the finale at New York Fashion Week, my adopted sister was in a car crash that left her completely blind.
And so began a ruthless campaign to destroy my life.
Listening to me prepare for the runway, she touched her heavy gauze bandages and wept bitterly. "You're so brilliant, Valora. Not like me... I'm just a useless, blind burden."
To placate her, our brother burned my core design sketches to ashes.
On the day of the show, my finale haute couture gown was maliciously slashed to ribbons. My reputation was left in ruins, and every single sponsor pulled their funding.
Later, she live-streamed her suicide attempt from a rooftop, sobbing that a disabled girl like her didn't deserve to be loved.
My husband dropped to one knee in front of the entire world and slipped the custom diamond ring—my ring—onto her finger.
That very night, I was dead-bolted inside my roaring, fire-engulfed studio.
With toxic smoke searing my lungs, I dialed my husband's number for help, only to be met with his frustrated, impatient voice:
"Serafina is blind! The fire alarms have her terrified! Stop being so damn petty and jealous right now!"
When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of her accident. The day she faked her blindness.
And so began a ruthless campaign to destroy my life.
Listening to me prepare for the runway, she touched her heavy gauze bandages and wept bitterly. "You're so brilliant, Valora. Not like me... I'm just a useless, blind burden."
To placate her, our brother burned my core design sketches to ashes.
On the day of the show, my finale haute couture gown was maliciously slashed to ribbons. My reputation was left in ruins, and every single sponsor pulled their funding.
Later, she live-streamed her suicide attempt from a rooftop, sobbing that a disabled girl like her didn't deserve to be loved.
My husband dropped to one knee in front of the entire world and slipped the custom diamond ring—my ring—onto her finger.
That very night, I was dead-bolted inside my roaring, fire-engulfed studio.
With toxic smoke searing my lungs, I dialed my husband's number for help, only to be met with his frustrated, impatient voice:
"Serafina is blind! The fire alarms have her terrified! Stop being so damn petty and jealous right now!"
When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of her accident. The day she faked her blindness.












































