Chapter 2

I had always known my mother was emotionally distant from me.

After all, we were separated at birth, and Chloe had spent eighteen years basking in her affection as the daughter of the house.

Still, my mother had shown some pity for the horrific abuse I endured during those eighteen lost years, treating me with what I thought was gentle affection.

In my past life, when she learned of my early labor, she had dropped everything and rushed to the hospital.

Because of her presence, I successfully delivered my daughter.

Chloe, on the other hand, missed the limited-edition toy drop because our mother wasn't there to buy it for her. Infuriated that the stock had sold out, she ran away with her punk boyfriend, only to fall into the hands of traffickers who beat her to death.

The day my mother went to identify Chloe's battered corpse, she wept until she collapsed, passing out multiple times from grief.

Yet the moment the funeral rites ended, she began visiting my home daily, obsessively offering to help raise my baby.

She would murmur that my little girl was probably Chloe's soul coming back to her.

Whenever the baby cried, my mother was the first to sprint over. She understood my child's tiny quirks better than I did.

Yet on my baby's first birthday, while the family was preparing for the celebration, my mother slammed her foot on the gas and aimed her SUV straight at me.

My husband shoved my daughter and me out of the way.

I watched in paralyzing horror as my mother crushed him beneath the heavy tires, then reversed and charged toward me again.

She ran over us repeatedly, venting her sick vengeance until she was certain we were broken, bloody corpses.

As the darkness claimed me, her venomous screech echoed in my ears.

"Why wasn't it you who died?!"

"Why did you have to come back?! So what if the hospital switched you at birth? Chloe is the only daughter I recognize!"

"You should have stayed gone! You had no right to steal Chloe's life!"

"You're a jinx! The moment you showed up, everyone's life was ruined! You should be burning in hell to pay for what happened to Chloe!"

It was August, the asphalt radiating oppressive waves of heat.

Drowning in my own blood, I looked over at my mangled husband. Even in his final seconds, his dying eyes were filled with desperate worry for me.

I looked at my one-year-old daughter, so tiny, so sweet, curled against my shattered chest, too terrified to do more than whimper softly.

And then, their lights went out.

My mother's twisted, demonic expression carved itself into my soul.

I supposed my entire life had been written as a sick tragedy from the start.

I was switched at birth and spent eighteen years in the mountains. For ten of those years, the man who bought me starved and beat me. At eighteen I was brought to the people I was told were my biological parents. I found no love there, either.

I walked on eggshells, obedient and desperate to earn a shred of their affection, yet all they ever gave me was blatant favoritism toward Chloe.

I swallowed every humiliation and yielded every single time.

Yet Chloe's tragic fate was somehow blamed entirely on me.

If I had known she would die, I never would have called our mother.

But I had been bleeding out from a car crash. I had been terrified.

I had only wanted my mother by my side.

The agonizing memory of being crushed under a car seemed to blur together with the burning sensation of cold steel slicing through my belly.

My vision began to darken as I lost more blood.

Suddenly, a sharp ringtone pierced the air.

I dragged air into my lungs, fighting to stay conscious. It was my phone.

The doctor moved to silence it, but my coworker screamed from the floor, "That's Justin! Her husband is calling! If you decline that call, he'll know something's wrong!"

"You forced my coworker to sign because you're terrified of leaving a paper trail! You think Helen can protect you? Justin holds far more power in this city than she ever will!"

Helen was my biological mother.

The doctor's face darkened with hesitation, her hands freezing mid-motion.

Hope flared in my chest. Gritting my teeth against the blinding pain, I forced words past my lips. "All I care about... is having this baby safely. If you... do the surgery properly... I'll consider you my savior... I won't press charges..."

It took monumental effort just to get those few words out.

Cold sweat drenched my skin, but I forced myself to finish: "I... I promise."

The doctor's features contorted into a sick sneer.

"Do I look like an idiot to you?"

She raised the scalpel, her eyes dead and cold.

"Doesn't matter. The second I collect the wire transfer, I'm boarding a flight overseas. Your husband is stuck halfway across the country. There's no way he makes it back in time."

"Today, you both die on this table!"

The phone kept ringing, echoing relentlessly through the room, unanswered.

Eventually, the ringing died out.

As I felt the frigid steel press back against my exposed flesh, the eerie silence around me plunged my soul into absolute despair.

Lying pinned to the cold metal table, I realized this was truly the end.

I was so sorry for dragging my innocent coworker into this.

And my precious baby girl wouldn't even get the chance to take her first breath.

My consciousness drifted into a heavy fog, my body growing numb and cold. Just as I hovered on the threshold of death, the heavy double doors of the OR were violently kicked open.

A furious, piercing shout shattered the silence.

"Touch my daughter, and I will tear you limb from limb!"