It hit me like a slap I deserved.

Emma was right.

That woman had found someone to copy the handwriting, and used the fact that she was roughly the same height and weight as my daughter to put herself in front of me on purpose.

The whole thing could have been a trap, planned from the start.

All these years, I'd ignored my own flesh and blood and swallowed a stranger's lies instead.

Pushing Emma away again and again, even doubting she was really mine.

I raised my hand and slapped myself across the face.

"Mom was wrong… Mom was a fool."

Emma rushed forward and caught my hand. Her tears fell onto the back of it.

"Mom, I don't care if you yell at me. I'm only scared you'll stop wanting me."

My eyes burned as I pulled her into my arms.

"I'm sorry, Em. I blamed you for nothing. It was all Mom's fault."

"From now on I'll only trust you. I won't listen to anyone else."

Emma let out a breath against my ear and smiled. "It's okay, Mom. We're family. No scammer's going to break that with a few words."

But when I closed my eyes,

all I could see was the blind girl's face, impossible to shake.

So much sadness written across it, so much hurt.

Her face had been ruined, yet something about her still felt so familiar it ached.

A few days later, the blind girl found me again.

"Mom, what happened? Do you believe I'm your daughter now?"

She wrote the words on paper, her hand shaking with urgency.

I stared at her coldly. "Enough!"

"How long are you going to keep lying to me?"

"My daughter is safe at home. She hasn't left my sight in ten years. She has a happy family now, and she's pregnant."

"You honestly don't think a lie like that sounds ridiculous?"

My fury startled her.

She stood frozen for a long time, then without a second of hesitation, pulled two strands of hair from her own head and held them out to me.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

I already knew.

But she still wrote it down.

"If you don't believe me, I'll go with you for a DNA test."

When the results came back, I stood there holding the report and my hands wouldn't stop shaking.

I couldn't think straight.

Right there in black and white—the blind girl's DNA matched mine. She was my biological daughter.

I'd also had them run a fingerprint comparison while they were at it.

The fingerprints were a perfect match for Emma Sullivan.

My eyes went red on the spot. "What the hell is going on?"

The blind girl wept as her pen tore across the paper.

"Mom, just listen to me. Please, just listen."

"The day after the national college entrance exam, I went to summer camp—and someone grabbed me. They put someone else in my place."

"I never came back. For ten years, the person living beside you as Emma Sullivan has been a fake."

"She could be dangerous. She could be trying to hurt you. You have to be careful!"

I couldn't hold back any longer.

I made sure Emma was somewhere safe, then went straight home.

She was in the living room with her six-month belly, doing prenatal yoga.

I cut straight to it.

"Tell me who you are."

"Who sent you to take my daughter's place? What is your real name?"

She froze mid-pose and looked at me like I'd lost my mind.

"Mom, have you completely lost it?"

"Or have you been watching too many soap operas? Where is this nonsense coming from?"

"Didn't I just explain the whole scam ring to you the other day? Have you seen them again? Did they get to you?"

Emma sighed—the kind of sigh that sounds like patience worn thin—and called Eustace.

"Dad, come home. Now."

"Actually, bring something for Mom's head while you're at it. She's decided I'm fake again."

Eustace came rushing back and fixed me with a cold stare.

"Deidre, what the hell is wrong with you now?"

"Emma finally gets maternity leave, comes here for a few quiet days, and you can't stop making her life miserable?"

Emma stood beside him, eyes red, nodding along.

"Mom, I've been your daughter for all these years. I've been right here beside you the whole time. Can you really not tell whether I'm real or not?"

"Some scammer feeds you a few lines and you believe them, but you won't believe me. Why?"

I spoke coldly.

"Then do you dare take a DNA test with me?"

The blind girl's results were already back. Black and white on the page—she was my biological daughter. I had the proof in my hands. That was why I was this furious, this certain.

But to my surprise, Emma just looked at me with a weary sigh.

"Fine. If that's what it takes for you to believe me, we can go today."

She said it without flinching, without even a flicker of hesitation.

That afternoon, we went and had the test done.

The results showed she was indeed my biological daughter.

"Well, Deidre? Got anything left to say? This was all you—paranoid, delusional. How was Emma ever not our daughter?"

I went numb, gripping the paper so hard my knuckles ached.

How was this possible?

I checked it over and over. There was nothing wrong with the results.

Afraid someone might have tampered with the sample midway, I insisted: "Do it again."

I waited until Emma was asleep in the middle of the night, took a strand of her hair, and had a second test done in secret.

The results came back identical.

The Emma standing in front of me was also my biological daughter.

"Mom, I've been telling you. You're imagining all of this."

"Look at me—I look just like you. Compare me to my childhood photos. There's no difference at all."

"So how could I possibly not be your daughter?"

But the moment the words left her mouth, I cut her off, my face drained white.

"No. That's impossible."

"Something is wrong. There has to be."

A thought struck me and my head snapped up.

"Emma. When you were little, you were allergic to mango. One bite—just one. If you break out in a rash, I'll believe you."

Eustace cut me off, face like stone.

"Deidre, enough."

"She's about to give birth and you're pulling this?"

"She's pregnant. You want her to eat something she's allergic to? Are you trying to hurt her?"

"If anything happens, can you live with that?"

He signaled to the bodyguards beside him, and they pulled me away.

"Deidre, your mental state is getting worse by the day."

"Paranoid delusions, convinced someone's impersonating your daughter. You're not far from full-blown dementia at this rate."

He gave the guards a look. A moment later one of them was prying my jaw open, trying to force pills down my throat.

Then—like a wire snapping—I grabbed my phone and went live.

I aimed the camera straight at Eustace and Emma, pointed at them both, and said:

"I know exactly what's going on."