Who Stole My Daughter’s Future?Chapter 1
Ten years ago, my daughter scored 717 on the national college entrance exam and became the top scorer in the country.
After that, everything went her way. Professor at a prestigious university by twenty-seven, married to the Ashford heir—her first love. A beautiful life.
She got pregnant, and I went to Saint Mercy Monastery to pray for blessings.
A girl found me outside the gates. Mute, blind, dragging one leg. She shoved a piece of paper into my hands, frantic.
It read:
"Mom, someone took my place. I'm your real daughter, Emma Sullivan. I was the top scorer on the national college entrance exam."
——
I held that piece of paper tight, convinced it was some kind of prank.
By the time I turned around, she was gone.
I couldn't shake it the whole way home.
The moment I walked through the door, my daughter's voice met me, bright and laughing. "Mom! I just bought durian. Come try some."
"I've been craving it ever since I got pregnant. Picked it up fresh from the market."
Durian. The word stopped me cold.
Before the exam, Emma couldn't stand durian.
Even a whiff of it made her gag.
But after the exam, somehow, she could eat it.
I'd never thought much of it at the time.
I'd asked a doctor once, and he said taste changes were perfectly normal.
But now I kept thinking about that note someone had pressed into my hands outside the monastery.
A chill ran straight through me.
Could it be true? Could my daughter really have been switched?
How? How was that even possible?
Ten full years had passed since the exam. Who could have swapped my own child right under my nose and left me none the wiser?
She must have noticed me staring, because she came over, worry creasing her face.
"Mom, you look awful. Did the trip to Saint Mercy Monastery wear you out?"
I looked at her face. The longer I looked, the less I recognized.
Something in her bearing, deep down, was nothing like the child I'd raised for eighteen years.
"I'm fine. Got a bit of wind on the road."
I waved it off, slipping the note into the deepest fold of my pocket.
She pulled me to the sofa and cracked the durian open. The sharp, pungent smell flooded the room instantly.
She held out a piece, eyes eager.
"Mom, here—try some. It's really sweet."
I stared at the pale flesh in her hand, and my stomach turned.
My daughter used to retch at the smell alone.