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."
