Chapter 2

Seventeen years ago

I remember the exact moment I knew something was wrong. Isabella was six months old, and I was changing her diaper when I noticed it. Or rather, when I noticed what wasn't there.

The small red birthmark that had been behind her left ear when she was born. Gone.

I stood there in her nursery, staring down at this perfect little baby, and felt the world tilt sideways. Babies don't lose birthmarks. They don't just disappear.

Unless the baby you're looking at isn't the same baby you gave birth to.

I didn't say anything to Marcus that night. Or the next night. Instead, I waited until he went to work, then drove three towns over to a clinic where nobody knew me. I brought Isabella and a few strands of my own hair, told them I needed a paternity test for legal reasons, and waited.

The results came back two weeks later. No biological relationship.

Marcus had actually done it. He'd actually switched our babies.

But why? I'd driven myself crazy trying to figure out his reasoning. Why take my baby and give me his? It didn't make sense until I really thought about the timeline.

Chloe had given birth the same day I did, in the same hospital. Marcus's brother was out of town on business, so Marcus had been handling everything for both women. The perfect opportunity.

I'd figured out the rest from there. Marcus and Chloe had been having an affair. She'd gotten pregnant. And when the time came, Marcus had decided to give his daughter the "better" life while my baby went to... what? Chloe?

That's when I made my choice.

If Marcus wanted to play games with babies, I could play games too.

It took me three months of careful planning. I watched Chloe's routines, learned when she went grocery shopping, when she visited friends. I waited for the perfect opportunity.

It came on a rainy Tuesday afternoon. Chloe had left baby Serena with her neighbor while she ran errands. The neighbor stepped inside to answer the phone.

Five minutes was all I needed.

I switched them back.

My real daughter came home with me that day. Marcus's real daughter went back to her real mother. And nobody ever knew the difference.

Well, nobody except me.

Standing in that hospital corridor now, watching Chloe's panicked face, I felt the same cold satisfaction I'd felt that day seventeen years ago. She thought she'd been raising my child all this time, just like Marcus thought Isabella was his.

They had no idea that I'd been ten steps ahead of them for nearly two decades.

"Evelyn," Chloe said, her voice shaky. "Can I... can we talk?"

I glanced back at Marcus, who was pretending to sleep now that his big confession was over. Coward.

"Of course," I said, stepping out into the hallway. The fluorescent lights were harsh overhead, casting everything in an unflattering yellow glow. "What's on your mind?"

Chloe pulled me aside, away from the nurses' station. Her hands were trembling.

"I heard what Marcus said in there," she whispered. "About the babies. About switching them."

"Yes," I said simply. "It's... a lot to process."

"Evelyn, you can't tell anyone about this." Her grip on my arm was desperate. "Please. Think about what this would do to the girls. To everyone."

I looked down at her hand on my arm, then back up at her face. Even at thirty-seven, Chloe was still beautiful, still the kind of woman who could turn heads in a grocery store. But right now, she looked terrified.

Good.

"I'm not planning to tell anyone anything," I said calmly. "Not yet, anyway."

"Not yet?" Her voice cracked. "What does that mean?"

"It means I need time to figure out what's best for everyone involved." I gently removed her hand from my arm. "This affects my daughter too, you know. My real daughter."

Chloe's face went even whiter. "Serena," she whispered.

"Serena," I confirmed. "The girl you've been raising for seventeen years, thinking she was someone else's child."

I watched the implications sink in. Watched her realize what this meant. All those times she'd compared Serena unfavorably to Isabella. All those times she'd wondered why Serena was so difficult, so different from what she'd expected.

All those times she'd been less than kind to a child who was actually a stranger's daughter.

Except Serena wasn't a stranger's daughter. Serena was her own flesh and blood, and she'd treated her like garbage.

"I need to go," I said, checking my watch. "Isabella will be home from school soon."

"Wait." Chloe grabbed my arm again. "What are you going to do? About the will, I mean. Marcus said he wants to change it..."

There it is. The real reason for her panic. Not guilt about how she'd treated Serena, not concern for the girls' wellbeing. Money.

"I haven't decided anything yet," I said truthfully. "But Chloe? You might want to think about how you've been treating Serena all these years. Because if this comes out... well, people might have questions."

I left her standing there in the hospital corridor and walked toward the elevator. My hands were steady as I pressed the button, steady as I watched the numbers light up.

Seventeen years of practice had taught me how to hide my real feelings.

The drive home gave me time to think. Time to plan. I'd been preparing for this day for so long that I almost couldn't believe it was finally here. Marcus was dying, which meant his protection of Chloe was ending. And now they both knew that I knew their secret.

What they didn't know was that their secret was already old news to me.

My phone buzzed as I pulled into the driveway. A text message from an unknown number.

Hi Evelyn! This is Sarah Chen from the reunion committee. Hope you're doing well! We're planning Copper Ridge High's 25th reunion for next month. Would love to see you there! Details attached.

I stared at the message for a long moment, then smiled.

Perfect timing.

I walked into the house to find Isabella at the kitchen table, hunched over her calculus homework. She looked up when she heard me come in, her face brightening.

"Hey, Mom. How's Dad?"

Mom. The word hit me like it always did. This beautiful, brilliant girl who called me Mom, who came to me with her problems, who trusted me completely. She had no idea that the woman who'd given birth to her was the same woman who'd spent seventeen years making another girl's life miserable.

She had no idea that other girl was her half-sister.

"He's the same," I said, kissing the top of her head. "Tired, but hanging in there."

Isabella nodded and went back to her homework. I watched her for a moment, then looked at my phone again. The reunion invitation was still there.

Twenty-five years since high school. That meant all our old classmates would be there. All the people who'd known us when we were young and stupid and thought we had our whole lives figured out.

All the people who'd witness what I was about to do.

I typed back a quick response: Wouldn't miss it for the world.

I used to think endurance was just another word for weakness. But in my twenties, it was all I had. Trapped by finances, by the cold judgment of Copper Ridge, by the knowledge that leaving Marcus would ruin Isabella’s life as much as my own. Divorce wasn’t freedom—it was exile. I had no proof, no support, and no choice but to swallow my suspicions and protect my daughter the only way I could: by staying silent.

In my thirties, things changed. I built a career, found my footing, and watched Marcus grow wealthier and more untouchable. Chloe’s cruelty toward Serena gnawed at me, fueling a bitterness that never quite faded. But I refused to let Isabella’s adolescence be shattered by family secrets and drama. I learned to wait, to sharpen my anger into something useful. Revenge, I realized, was not a moment’s impulse—it was a plan, one that demanded patience and precision. I would strike only when the damage would be total.

Now, the moment has finally come. Isabella is nearly eighteen—old enough to face the truth, strong enough to survive it. I will make sure they understand exactly what they’ve done, and I will do it when they have the most to lose.