I remember that day clearly—the tension in the car was thick. Dad was driving, his grip tight on the wheel, while I stared out the window, frustrated.
“Why do I have to do this on my day off?” I snapped. “Couldn’t you have taken a taxi?”
Dad shot me a look. “Your mother needs help. Isn’t it too much to ask you to help her pack?”
I huffed. “You know our relationship.”
“I know. You haven’t spoken in years. You’re as stubborn as her,” he said, raising his voice.
“She ruined my life, Dad!” I fired back.
“Don’t exaggerate. She wanted you to have a good education.”
“All I did was study and follow her plans. It was never enough.”
“She loved you, Lucy.”
I turned away. “Funny, my life got better when I stopped talking to her.”
When we arrived at my parents’ house, I stormed inside, frustrated. The familiar smell of dust filled the air as Todd followed me.
“What do we need to take?” I asked, masking my irritation.
Todd handed me a list, and I helped him with it. Upstairs, packing my mother’s things, I found a note at the bottom: “Do not show Lucy.”
My heart raced. What was hidden from me?
I found a videotape in the safe, tucked behind the jewelry box, and took it home. The footage showed my parents, young and happy, with a little girl. My mother called her “Chloe.”
My mind raced—who was Chloe? I’d always been Lucy.
I drove back to the nursing home, desperate for answers. Inside, the receptionist recognized me.
“Your mom talks about you all the time,” she said.
I found my mom in her room, sitting with Todd. “I need to talk to you,” I said.
I showed her the tape. “Do you want to explain this?”
Mom’s face went pale. “Lucy… we never meant for you to find out this way.”
She broke down, revealing that I wasn’t their biological child. “Chloe was our first daughter, but she died in a car accident. We adopted you, and we loved you like our own.”
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