Hearing him echo Mom's words, I thought, to them, Sharon already paid the price. So I almost dying was just karma?

I dropped my gaze, letting the silence speak.

Chuck caught it. First time he looked at me like that—cold. "Yasmine, Coraline's getting old. Why the attitude?

"It's been six years. You took Sharon's life and ran with it for over twenty. You can't blame Coraline. Blood's blood. A mom never really lets go of her kid.

"Honestly, Sebastian and Coraline always owed Sharon. Remember that house in the suburbs they saved for her? I'll take them there this weekend. Call it a tribute. You don't have to come."

He made it sound like a choice, but it wasn't. I looked at them—Chuck, frosty. My parents? Dead quiet. But I got the message loud and clear. Say no, and I'm the villain.

"Alright. Go. She was your real daughter. I was part of the mess too. Makes sense to pay respects."

I said it cool, like I was fine.

Chuck lit up. "Knew you were the sweetest. Don't worry, I'll make your favorite before we head out."

Mom wiped her tears and pulled me in. "You always have a kind heart. Thank you—for Sharon. We're the ones who failed her."

Hot tears slid down my neck. I hid in her arms, shaking.

They claimed they wronged her, so that justified messing with my head for six years? They gaslit me so hard, I almost felt bad for Sharon.

Like maybe I deserved the knife.

But I didn't ask to be switched. That wasn't on me. And my real parents never tried to steal someone's kid.

Yeah, I lived a life that wasn't mine. But if Sharon had wanted it back, I would've walked away without a fight. I never wanted this mess.

So tell me—what exactly did I do to earn all that betrayal?

Pain stabbed my chest. I bolted to the bathroom, dry heaving. Chuck trailed right behind, patting my back, panicked.

"What's going on? You just had a check-up, right? What'd the doctor say? Is it your stomach? If something's wrong, we'll fix it. Don't ignore it."

His voice was soft, too soft. Worried—or worried I might be pregnant?

"Chuck," I said, steadying myself. "I'm pregnant."

I forced a sweet smile. "You're gonna be a dad. The doctor called it a miracle. Aren't you happy? We're finally having our own kid."

His smile dropped. He stared at me like I'd just confessed to murder.

"Yasmine, don't mess around. That's not funny. The doctor said you couldn't carry a baby."

His voice cracked. Eyes wide. Full-on panic.

This was my husband.

"I'm not joking. Aren't you happy?"

I held on, hoping.

Chuck straightened up, all serious. "Babe, the doctor said your body can't handle this. You need to end it. What if something happens to you?"

The word "babe" coming from him made my skin crawl.

"What if I don't want to?"

Chuck didn't even blink before deciding to get rid of our child. Suddenly, I wondered if maybe being infertile had been a blessing—at least my child wouldn't be born into this mess.

"Babe—"

"Just kidding." I smiled, pressing into his chest. "The doctor said I still can't have kids. Thanks for sticking around."

And thanks—for everything you did to me.

***

The weekend hit fast. Chuck got up early, kissed my cheek, and whipped up three dishes and a soup like a man on a mission.

"Yasmine, I'm taking Mom and Dad out. Stay safe, okay? Call if anything happens."

I nodded, tears sliding down as I unlocked my phone.

Sharon was outside. I'd gotten the pic before Chuck even woke up—her, kicked back in a car, smug as hell.

The messages?

[Yasmine, so what if you married him? I'm the one having his baby.]

[You really think they're headed to the villa to mourn me? Don't be stupid. I've been living there for years. ]

[Today's my prenatal checkup. I casually said I wanted the whole fam there—and just like six years ago, they all came running. A few fake tears and boom, they picked me again.]

[Your life's a joke.]

Attached were dozens of photos—Chuck with Sharon on trips, sometimes even with my parents. Sightseeing. Vacationing. Laughing.

And me? I used to light up over the tiny souvenirs he brought back.

The despair hit hard. I closed the chat and booked a flight for the next day.

Knowing Sharon, she wouldn't let them come home tonight. That gave me just enough time to disappear.

By noon, I forced down a few bites, then got to work. Sorting evidence. Stacking it all up.

Honestly? I had to thank her. If she hadn't gotten cocky, I wouldn't have this much dirt.

With this, I could leave Chuck with nothing.

And before I walked out for good, the world was going to see exactly who they really were.

***

By the time I was done, it was already 10 p.m.

No surprise—Chuck wasn't coming home. He called me on video. The camera was blurry, but I could feel her there. Sharon, probably just out of frame.

I didn't say anything. Just smiled and promised I'd take care of myself.

The next morning, I was up early. A crew showed up—contractors I'd hired. Anything I couldn't pack? I told them to rip it out.

As for the little trinkets Chuck gave me? I'd seen identical ones on Sharon's socials. Mine were just duplicates. Leftovers.

I didn't want any of it.

Two hours later, the team rolled out with truckloads of stuff. I sat down with a lighter and pulled out every photo from the past few years—burned them one by one.

The fire alarm went off, screaming.

I grabbed my suitcase and walked out.

This was my goodbye gift to Chuck. By the time he made it back, I was already gone. Out of the house. Out of the city.