I, Taylor Laurent, go to the hospital's emergency department because of severe abdominal pain.

When I wake up, my mom, Jocelyn Nord, stares at me in terror and asks, "You are not my daughter. Who are you?"

Helpless and regretful, Hank Gibson, the doctor, says to my mom, "She is your daughter, it's just… an accident."

My mom can't accept it and jumps off the hospital building, killing herself instantly.

Hank is suspended because of this incident and, under my questioning, chooses to kill himself by hitting a wall.

When I finally find my life partner and take the premarital medical exam, the staff tells me something that chills me to my bones.

My dad, Peter Laurent, died unexpectedly, and Mom, Jocelyn Nord, gave all the love she had for my dad to me. Her only hope in life was to see me get married and have children because she hoped to once again see my dad's likeness in the faces of her future grandchildren.

So, I, Taylor Laurent, paid great attention to my health.

From my childhood to adulthood, I sought treatment right away whenever I had any illness or pain. I consistently maintained a healthy diet and exercised moderately.

One time, after a round of intense exercise, I went for a buffet. During the meal, I felt a sudden and sharp pain in my abdomen, and I fainted on the spot from the agony.

When I woke up, I saw Mom staring at me in terror and saying, "You're not my daughter. Who are you?"

I did not understand why Mom would say such words. But I knew she always worried about my health, so I instinctively reached out my hand to hold hers and comfort her.

"Mom, what are you talking about? I am your and Dad's daughter."

Mom looked at the hand I reached out as if she were looking at a monster. She screamed and shook off my hand. Then, she frantically shook her head as she backed away.

She kept muttering to herself, "No, you are not my daughter, nor are you Peter's daughter."

Peter was Dad's name. This was the first time Mom ever rejected me. Since I was little, Mom had spoiled me rotten and treated me like a princess. She showered me with nothing but praise and never scolded or hit me.

Whenever I acted spoiled and called out to Mom, she would happily run over to me. Then, she would look at my face that resembled Dad's, and say, "What do you want now, my precious little princess? I'll give you everything!"

Upon seeing Mom keeping her distance from me, an inexplicable sense of fear enveloped my heart. I forced down the urge to vomit and turned my head to seek help from Hank Gibson, my doctor, who stood nearby with a serious expression.

In a voice that sounded helpless and regretful, Hank spoke to Mom, who was retreating toward the window of the hospital room with no further room to step back.

"She is your daughter. It was just… an accident."

Mom refused to accept Hank's explanation. In despair, she climbed onto the windowsill and jumped down without hesitation.

She shouted her last words into the air, "You're lying! She's not Peter's daughter!"

I asked Hank what was going on on earth. He didn't give me an answer but spoke coldly to ask me not to grieve too much and rest well. He said that would be the best comfort for my dead mother.

The moment he mentioned Mom, I could not help but break down and cry.

"But Mom said I wasn't her daughter. Can you tell me what's going on?" I wailed.

Hank remained silent and quietly left the hospital room.

The stabbing pain in my heart kept me awake all night. I yearned for morning to come so that I could see Hank and question him thoroughly about the whole matter.

Unexpectedly, an unfamiliar doctor came into my hospital room the next morning.

I froze for a moment before asking, "Where is Dr. Gibson?"

"Well, Dr. Gibson mishandled a patient's case and caused a tragedy. He's been suspended," said the doctor.

When I heard that, I was stunned. After being discharged, I returned alone to the home that had once been full of bustling warmth but was now cold and empty.

The moment I opened the door, I saw the wedding photo of Dad and Mom placed in the entryway. Then, my gaze landed on the photos of Mom and me from my childhood to adulthood.

Mom had once told me that as long as she could see me grow up happily, she felt that all her years of hard work were worth it.

In the drawer were the property deeds for the house and car Mom had prepared for me, along with pieces of gold jewelry. These were the wedding gifts Mom had prepared for me. She said these assets were for me to fall back on in my marriage.

But before I even found a boyfriend, she had already taken her own life. I collapsed to the floor, clutching a photo of the three of us.

I cried out in grief, "Mom, didn't you want to see me get married and have children? Didn't you want to see how much my child would resemble Dad? But why did you say I am not your and Dad's daughter?"

Exhausted from crying, I wiped the mottled tears from my face. I pulled out my phone and arranged to meet with Hank. All I wanted was to ask for the truth.

Hank had always been my attending doctor. When I was a child and had suffered a serious illness, he had been the one to cure me. Because of this, Mom always saw him as the person who saved her most beloved daughter.

No matter what disagreements arose, Hank's words carried the most weight and were always taken as the unquestionable truth.

On that day, he had clearly affirmed that I was Mom's daughter. Why had Mom refused to believe it so vehemently? That was very out of character for her.

And the "accident" Hank mentioned… What did it mean? During the time after my acute abdominal pain and fainting, had something strange occurred?

This time, I was determined to hear the truth from Hank himself.

When Hank opened the door, I was startled to see that his face looked as if he had aged ten years in an instant. His beard was unshaven, and his eyes behind the thick black-framed glasses he wore were unfocused.

When he saw me, the light in his eyes dimmed, but he still allowed my intrusion.

"I am sorry about your mother's death," Hank said in a low, dejected voice.

"I just want to know what happened. Why did Mom say I wasn't her daughter? What exactly happened after I fainted?" I asked the questions agitatedly in rapid succession as I stood before him.

My mom was already dead. I had no intention of blaming Hank. I just wanted answers.

"It was my fault. I am so sorry." Hank kept repeating his apology, but he never once mentioned what had actually transpired that day.

Seeing Hank nearly collapse under the weight of guilt, I grasped his trembling fist to calm him. I said soothingly, "You cured my illness back then. So no matter what you did that day, I can accept it."

It would have been better if I had not said that. The moment I mentioned my illness from years ago, Hank's head, which had been lowered all the while, suddenly snapped up.

When he saw my face, he seemed triggered and let out a startled cry. He shook off my hand and rushed toward the wall.

As he slammed his head against it with all his might, "I'm sorry. It's my fault for not carefully verifying everything back then. It's my fault you turned out this way."

Witnessing Hank's attempt to kill himself shocked me so much that I fainted on the spot. In a daze, I heard the nurses chatting beside the hospital bed.

"Alas. It really wasn't Dr. Gibson's fault."

"Yeah. I feel so sorry for him."

I opened my eyes, and the nurse immediately noticed that I was awake. She quickly called for the doctor.

Douglas White examined me and said, "You've had a shock. You need proper rest."

But I was troubled by the strange behavior exhibited by Mom and Hank, and I could not rest at all. I felt as if I were going mad.

I grabbed Douglas' hand tightly to stop him from leaving. "What happened after I was rushed to the emergency room with severe abdominal pain?"

Douglas looked over my medical records when I was rushed to the emergency department. He said, "It was just a normal emergency procedure including blood tests, X-rays to determine the cause, and the use of corresponding medication for treatment."

"But why did Mom say I wasn't her daughter?" I asked.

Douglas smiled indifferently and replied, "She was probably overthinking it. You just had abdominal pain. It wasn't like you had an organ transplant. Even if you had an organ transplant, medically speaking, you would still be you."

Upon hearing the words "organ transplant," a terrifying thought suddenly rose in my mind. I questioned, "Did Dr. Gibson secretly replace my organs with someone else's? Was that why Mom thought I wasn't the original me?"

Douglas's expression turned serious. "We are a proper hospital. Your abdominal pain only required medication and rest."

He seemed earnest and not at all like he was lying to me. However, his answer did not provide any relief to me. This meant that the only clue I had toward learning the truth led nowhere.

I could tell Douglas was angry at my unfounded suspicion about the hospital and its doctors' ethics. Although he didn't show it openly, he left the ward with a displeased frown.

Before the door closed, I heard him speaking through his mask to the nurse about my condition. "The patient seems to show signs of a psychological condition. Observe carefully and notify me immediately if you encounter any problem."

A psychological condition? Did that mean I had a mental illness? Could it be that another personality lived inside me? Was this what prompted Mom to say I wasn't her daughter?

I quickly opened my phone to search for how to determine if one had dissociative identity disorder.

I started comparing my personal experience to what I had found online. It was said that the triggers usually came from childhood trauma. However, I had a very happy childhood under my parents' meticulous care. So, I had no childhood trauma to speak of.

The internet told me that dissociative identity disorder involves gaps in one's memory. Aside from the surgery and my passing out during the abdominal pain episode, I could confirm I had no blank spots in my memory.

Even after completing an entire set of authoritative online questionnaires, my mental health was perfectly fine, other than having mild anxiety. Yet, the more I confirmed that there wasn't anything wrong with me, the more uneasy I became.

Why exactly was I not me?

A long time passed, and I remained trapped in endless, baseless guilt. I couldn't help but think it was my fault Mom jumped to her death, and Hank chose to end his life by hitting the wall due to the false accusations that he had to bear.

My trauma only began to heal after Martin Sullivan appeared in my life.

Martin treated me very well. He was gentle and considerate. Above all, he could accommodate all my sensitive emotions. I gradually emerged from the shadow cast on me by the past incident. I wanted to marry Martin and have children to fulfill Mom's original wish.

To my delight, Martin agreed without hesitation to help me complete this wish. Before our marriage, we underwent a premarital medical examination.

While waiting for the results, one of the staff members, Rowan Voss, approached me with a grave expression and asked to speak to me alone in the office. What he said left me utterly shocked.

He said, "Ms. Laurent, your premarital examination report shows that there is a man inside your body."