"The fly was hidden in the blueberry jam. She's too stupid to notice."

The words had barely left her mouth before I appeared in the doorway.

Father and daughter exchanged a quick glance.

Clara was the first to move, grabbing the blueberry cake and running toward me.

"Mommy, Clara picked out your favorite blueberry cake just for you! I'm sorry I threw away the hair clip you bought me. Daddy already scolded me. Can you forgive me?"

The girl hung her head, but her eyes were sneaking furtive glances up at me.

Sharp little eyes. Testing the waters.

It wasn't like I'd never had doubts. She looked nothing like me, and nothing like Toby either.

And it wasn't just her appearance. Her preferences, her allergies.

Everything was the polar opposite of mine.

Now I knew who she took after.

Those eyes, barely able to contain their eagerness to watch me eat the tampered cake.

They were identical to the ones I'd seen on my phone screen ten minutes ago. Mildred's eyes.

I crouched down. She was only five, after all. When she saw me reaching for the cake, she couldn't keep the mischief off her face anymore. She even pulled out a spoon, popped open the box, and scooped a generous piece from the corner with the most blueberry jam, holding it right up to my lips.

"Mommy, let Clara feed you. Eat up!"

I leaned in. Smiled.

Then I flipped the cake over right in front of her, smashing it onto her favorite white patent shoes.

The girl froze for two full seconds before erupting into a wail. "You ruined the cake I worked so hard on! You ugly freak! You big fat pig! Clara's mommy is definitely not going to be happy with me now—"

Toby lunged forward and clamped a hand over her mouth. The guilt in his eyes lasted barely a second before he wheeled on me. "Have you lost your mind, Louisa? Your daughter picked this cake out especially for you! If you're angry, take it out on me. Why are you bullying a child?"

I stared at the dead fly stuck in the blueberry jam and let out a cold, mocking laugh. "A cake with a dead fly hidden inside. That really is special."

I didn't bother looking at the frozen expressions on their faces.

I stepped over the mess on the floor and walked into the study alone.

The next morning, Toby had a full breakfast spread laid out on the table.

When he saw me come out, he shot Clara a look.

She immediately latched onto the hem of my shirt, eyes brimming with pitiful tears.

"Mommy, I'm sorry. Clara was wrong yesterday. Please don't be mad. Please don't ignore me, okay?"

Before all this, seeing her like that would have shattered every wall I had. She wouldn't have even needed to ask. I'd have melted on the spot and handed her the whole world on a silver platter.

But now, staring at that face overlapping with Mildred's, all I could think about was the child I had never once laid eyes on.

Was she cold? Was she hungry?

Was she even… alive?

My nails dug into my palms. I clenched my fists so tight the knuckles went white. Something inside me was burning, a fire that seared through every nerve, every organ, agony so deep it threatened to split me apart. But I couldn't scream.

My child was still out there.

I couldn't afford to fall apart. Not yet.

I drew a slow breath, reached out, and ruffled Clara's hair.

"It's okay. Mommy forgives you."

Seeing my expression soften, Toby exhaled in visible relief and pulled out my chair with exaggerated attentiveness.

"I knew it. You talk tough, but you're soft as butter inside. You nearly died bringing her into this world. No way you'd stay mad at her for real."

I said nothing. I lowered my head and took a sip of oatmeal.

"Oh, by the way, babe. Clara's preschool is organizing a study trip to Austin tomorrow. I figured I'd tag along and spend a few days with her. The family credit card's running low. Can you transfer another thirty thousand into it?"

I looked up. My gaze settled on him.

When I first met Toby Simmons, he was an orphan riding a beat-up secondhand scooter, delivering food for a living, sleeping in a three-hundred-dollar-a-month apartment with a leaking ceiling.

I ran a five-star hotel with excellent returns.

I never cared that my husband didn't have money. The whole reason I'd chosen Toby as a live-in husband was because he seemed honest, family-oriented, and capable of managing the household. No in-law drama to worry about. I'd even let the children take his last name, out of consideration for his pride.

When we first got married, I bought him a shirt that cost over a thousand dollars. He tried to return it three times.

Now, barely five years later, he could ask me for thirty thousand without so much as blinking.

I curved my lips into something that wasn't quite a smile. "I deposit a million dollars into the family credit card every year. Since Clara was born, that's five million total. You've spent it all?"

Toby didn't flinch. Didn't even have the decency to look embarrassed. "Getting Clara into that international preschool cost a fortune in connections. You know the teachers there are all people of status. Can't afford to offend a single one of them."

"Including Mildred James?"

His expression froze. Before he could respond, Clara piped up.

"Duh! Clara's mommy is pretty and amazing, so obviously she gets the biggest presents!"

She raised her little pinky and pointed it right at my nose, chin tilted up like she was scolding a disobedient dog.

"You have to give Clara's mommy presents, and buy her purses, and a car, and a house. You're just our nanny and our ATM. All your money belongs to Clara's mommy. And if you don't behave, I'll push you into the street and let a car run you over!"

"Clara!" Toby snapped, panic flashing across his face before he could hide it.

He glanced at me, then forced out a weak laugh. "Honey, kids say the darndest things. She didn't mean it. I'll have a talk with her later, I promise. Don't take it to heart."

Kids say the darndest things. Sure. But words that vicious didn't come from nowhere. Without someone teaching her, a five-year-old couldn't have strung together sentences like that.

Nanny.

ATM.

Push me into the street to get run over by a car.

Just like five years ago, when a car killed my child.

I tugged faintly at the corners of my mouth. Beneath the surface, cold seeped through me, all the way to the bone.

"Of course I won't blame her. Clara is my own flesh and blood. I nearly died bringing her into this world. How could I ever hold anything against her?"

"Not only that, but for her fifth birthday next week, I'm planning to transfer all my hotel shares to my little girl. When she comes of age, the hotel will be hers."

Toby's eyes lit up. He grabbed my hands, practically vibrating with excitement.

"Honey, Clara is so lucky to have a mother like you. And I'm so lucky to have a wife like you. We really hit the jackpot."

I pulled my hands free. Swallowing the nausea, I smiled. "Clara has such delicate skin, and she's so picky about food. Only the best for her, in every way. I'll have my assistant load fifty thousand onto the family card. You two go enjoy yourselves."

Toby was beside himself with joy. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to my forehead. "Then I'll leave the birthday party planning to you, honey. When we get back from the trip, the whole family can celebrate together."

He stood, quickly dragged out a suitcase that had clearly been packed and waiting by the door, said something about scouting the location ahead of time, scooped Clara into his arms, and left.

The eagerness to run off and share the good news with Mildred was practically written across his face.

The door swung open and shut. Through the narrowing gap, I caught one last glimpse of Clara's mocking grimace before it disappeared.

Silence filled the room. Dead, hollow silence, matching the cavity in my chest.

I let the smile fall. Set down my spoon. Wiped my mouth with quiet precision.

Then I grabbed my car keys and followed them out.

Kingswood Villa. A hundred thousand dollars per square foot. In a city like this, it was the kind of property ordinary people couldn't even dream of affording.

I parked beneath the shade of a tree not far from the villa and waited ten minutes.

Toby had just stepped out of the car with Clara in his arms when Mildred James came trotting out of the villa in the latest Chanel couture, throwing herself straight into his embrace.

"Honey, that old hag doesn't suspect anything, does she?"

Toby kissed Mildred on the cheek, his tone dripping with mockery. "Relax. That woman is dumb as a rock. Easiest mark I've ever seen. I asked for three hundred grand, and she transferred five hundred thousand, practically falling over herself to make sure we took it. I've never met anyone so pathetically desperate. Flash her a little warmth and she'd crawl on her knees to hand over every last cent to me and Clara."

Mildred threw her head back, laughing so hard her shoulders shook. "See? I told you swapping out her little brat was the smartest thing we ever did. My only regret is that I didn't hit the gas hard enough to send her straight to the grave."

"It's not too late. Next week is Clara's birthday. Once she transfers the hotel shares to Clara, I'll play the video in front of everyone — the one showing her cheating with multiple men. Force her into a divorce, make her walk away with nothing. Everything the Matthews family owns becomes ours."

After another round of laughter, Clara covered her eyes with her small hands in an exaggerated show. "Daddy and Mommy are kissing! Clara can't see a thing!"

The two leaned over their daughter and kissed, long and lingering.

I stared straight ahead, my fingers tightening around the steering wheel, inch by inch.

Easiest mark.

Pathetically desperate.

Hit the gas.

Swapped out her child.

A metallic taste surged up my throat. I forced it back down.

Half an hour later, the happy family of three hauled several large suitcases out the door, chatting and laughing as they loaded into the car.

I sat in place for ten minutes. My brain hummed. Everything went blank.

Then my assistant's call jolted me awake.

"Ms. Matthews, I found her. The person you asked me to look for."

My whole body went rigid. I could barely believe what I was hearing.

It took a long time before I found my voice again, and even then it shook. "Where?"

From the city to the town where she was — over five hundred miles. I didn't stop once.

When I stepped out of the car, my legs trembled so badly I nearly collapsed. My assistant caught my arm.

"Ms. Matthews, take it easy. She's right here, in this children's home."

Beyond the rust-eaten iron fence, I saw her almost instantly — a girl curled in the corner of a muddy pit, nothing but skin and bones.

Her eyes looked exactly like mine.

Even the small red birthmark at the corner of her left eye was identical to my own.

The new year had just passed, and the bitter cold still gripped the town, but the girl wore only a set of old thermal underwear so filthy its original color was impossible to guess. The clothes didn't fit. Her wrists and ankles jutted out far beyond the cuffs. On her feet, a pair of sandals with her toes poking out the front, grotesquely out of place in the dead of winter.

My eyes burned. The director of the home hurried over, choosing her words carefully.

"Ms. Matthews, this child — Jianmei — she has a difficult background. She's somewhat withdrawn. Five years old and still can't speak. Are you sure you want to take her?"

I turned my head slowly. My voice was hollow with disbelief. "Jianmei?"

The director nodded and sighed. "The woman who brought her in said her mother was a bar girl who slept with anyone who'd have her. Said she gave birth to this child — father unknown — then caught some disease and died. That's why the girl's called Jianmei. 'Cheap little sister.' The woman also left specific instructions..."

She paused, her voice dropping. "She told us the girl's life was worthless. Said not to bother feeding her well or keeping her warm. If she got sick, don't treat her. And if she died, she had it coming."

"What was that woman's name?"

"I'm not sure, but the man who came with her — a Mr. Simmons — called her something like 'Xinxin.' Mr. Simmons handled all the paperwork himself."

I stood rooted to the ground. My skull hummed. My stomach clenched.

I couldn't hold it back anymore. I stumbled to the corner and doubled over, retching violently, but my empty stomach produced nothing except a pool of yellow bile.

My assistant rubbed my back, staring at my face, which had gone white as paper.

"Ms. Matthews, are you all right?"

I shook my head. I straightened up and looked at the girl in the corner, her gaze vacant and lost.

"There's one more thing I need to do."