A jagged laugh tore from my throat. So that was it. I had nearly died, and they were sipping champagne under chandeliers. Well. it was also my fault for eating it. I thought they would notice me after this. Yet, I was wrong—I would never be part of the family even if I am the real daughter.
I dropped the phone onto the bed and looked around. No flowers. No cards. Not even a fruit basket.
When I asked the nurse if anyone had come to check on me, she gave me an apologetic smile and said, “No, ma’am. No visitors so far.”
Even after all this time—even after the truth about the bloodline, the switched lives, the heartbreak—they still loved Patricia more. Always more.
And me? I had loved them too much. I gave them my everything. My name. My future. My body. Even my baby. And what did I get in return?
Disregard. Disrespect. Disgust.
But I was done.
That afternoon, I received a text from my lawyer.
Lawyer: Divorce has been finalized. The official documents are en route.
Then Rain messaged me, ever the savior in my life.
Rain: Everything’s ready. Do you want to disappear? Or… marry a stranger and make your own headlines? I can arrange both.
Me: Anything. Anyone. Just get me out of here.
I signed my own discharge forms and left the hospital with nothing but my coat and my silence. The air outside hit colder than I expected. I took it as a sign—there was nothing left for me here. Not warmth. Not family. Not love.
I returned to the mansion to collect a few things before I’d vanish for good. No one noticed. The house was abuzz with preparations for the annual Montera gala. Guests. Lights. Champagne flutes. Patricia in center stage, directing florists and string quartets like she was the queen of it all.
She turned and offered me a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Oh, you’re back. Alicia… I’m sorry about what happened. I didn’t mean for you to get sick.”
My mother looked up from the planner. “She just wants attention. Always has. And if she knew she was allergic, why would she eat it? What a useless bitch!”
I looked down. It hurts. But I didn’t want it to burn inside me.
Then my mother tossed a clipboard at me. “Since you’re here, help organize the final details. And if anything goes wrong, it’s on you.”
Of course. Always me.
I worked until dawn. Every seating chart. Every floral arrangement. Every email and phone call. I barely ate. Barely slept. But I endured. Because I had a plan.