My Family Regretted After Donating My Liver to the Fake Alpha's Daughter

My eighteenth birthday was chaotic and messy.

Sophie burst into my birthday party, holding a silver chain engraved with our family crest, crying hysterically, accusing me of stealing her life:

"I'm the real daughter of the Silverpine Pack, you're just an imposter!"

Behind her, an unfamiliar woman rushed to embrace me, crying out, calling me her daughter.

In her sobbing, a secret buried for eighteen years surfaced.

When my mother was pregnant, my father had an affair.

After this woman gave birth to her daughter, she secretly switched the two newborns, marking them with silver chains.

The scene was in complete turmoil, everyone exchanging bewildered looks.

It turns out the Silverpine Pack alpha's daughter was an imposter.

My brother threw the silver chain at my feet,pointing at the door and telling me to leave.

For a moment, I was at a loss, mechanically breaking free from my biological mother's grip.

I walked toward my mother, wanting to hug her like I used to.

But two steps away, our gazes met.

Her eyes, filled with resentment, made me freeze.

I stood still, stunned.

Until my biological mother and I were both kicked out.

The heavy rain poured as I stood outside the hotel, shivering with cold.

My once-gentle brother looked like he wanted to tear me apart:

"You two, leave. The farther, the better!"

After being kicked out of the house, I drifted like a rootless weed on the outskirts of the Silverpine Pack.

Fearing being recognized, I carefully avoided familiar streets and people.

Struggling to survive under the shadow of the pack, my life was hard.

At 11 p.m., under the dim lights of an alley, the ringtone of my phone sounded unusually harsh.

"Brother?"

The moment the word slipped out, I realized that this title no longer belonged to me.

"Victoria, go home."

His voice was cold.

A part of me felt a little pleased, thinking perhaps my brother and mother were willing to believe I wasn't an imposter.

After all, people always said I looked exactly like my mother, as if we were cut from the same mold.

I couldn't believe I wasn't her biological child.

However, when I stepped inside the house, the truth hit me. They wanted me to donate a liver to Sophie.

"Just get tested, it won't kill you."

Sophie had been diagnosed with severe liver failure during a recent checkup, and the whole family was shrouded in gloom.

In these past days, my brother had been running around looking for solutions for Sophie's illness, exhausted beyond measure.

My mother's eyes were red from crying, and a few more strands of white hair had appeared.

Seeing my hesitation, my brother's frustration grew clearer in his face.

I remained silent for a long time, then shifted my gaze from the organ donation consent form, lowered my eyes, and softly said:

"Sorry, I can't donate my liver to Sophie."

After being kicked out of my home, I had to work night shifts at a logistics company,