Chapter 2
I said, "I don't want money."
I stared at the scattered pieces of paper on the floor.
"I want Eloise to face the consequences for what she's done," I said.
There was a faint, mocking chuckle from the other end of the line.
"Consequences?" Emily's voice was slow and dripping with sarcasm. "Grace, have you been stuck in that hospital room so long your mind's gone fuzzy?
"You really think you can threaten me with some phony appraisal you dug up from who knows where?
"Do you even realize what kind of crime it is to forge medical documents?"
She didn't even care enough to verify whether the report was genuine.
In her eyes, someone like me—just a girl doing menial chores for the Davidson family—could never be the child she carried for nine months.
To her, only someone like Eloise, always dressed in couture and playing the piano like a perfect heiress, could ever be her real daughter.
"Ms. Poole," I interrupted her, "if you're so convinced it's fake, why don't you dare check? What are you afraid of?"
There was a brief silence on the other end.
"I don't have time for your pointless games." Emily's voice went cold. "This is your last chance.
"By eight tomorrow morning, take back your message from the group chat and sign the agreement. Otherwise, I'll make sure you and your dad won't have a place in this city.
"That crappy little repair shop of his? Tomorrow, it'll get shut down for failing the fire inspection. You'd better think hard about your next move."
Then the line went dead.
The dial tone echoed in the hospital room.
My dad stood by the bed, squeezing the thermos lid so hard that it was getting warped.
"Grace," he called out, his voice trembling. "How could she do this to you? She's your real mother."
I looked at my dad.
He'd said those exact words in my previous life, too.
Back then, Eloise shredded my college acceptance letter and flushed the pieces down the toilet.
I was on my knees in the bathroom, desperately trying to scoop out the shredded pieces.
Eloise just stood to the side, covering her nose and laughing at me. "Who do you think you are, a maid's daughter dreaming about college?
"You're only good for washing my underwear for the rest of your life. That's all you'll ever be."
Emily was standing just outside the bathroom door.
She passed Eloise a wet wipe to clean her hands.
"Eloise, don't waste your time on trash like her. She'll just dirty your hands," Emily said, not even looking at me.
I snapped out of it and looked at my dad. "Dad, she's not my mother. She's just Eloise's lawyer."
*****
The next day, I checked out of the hospital.
My ribs still hadn't fully healed, and every step sent a dull ache through my body.
My dad helped me as we walked out of the hospital.
We didn't go back to the Davidson family.
Instead, my dad brought me to the tiny one-room apartment he rented in the rundown part of town.
The room was tiny, barely more than ten square meters.
There was a single bed, a battered old wardrobe, and a few cardboard boxes piled up in the corner.
The air was thick with the musty smell of a place that hadn't seen sunlight in years.
"Grace, just lie down for a bit," my dad said, helping me onto the bed.
"I'll go make you some bone broth," he said, turning to head out to the shared kitchen.
I leaned back against the yellowed pillow and pulled out my phone.
The Davidson family group chat was blowing up.
Even though Emily was doing everything she could to keep it under wraps, that paternity test had still caused a huge stir.
Kyson Davidson, the head of the Davidson family, valued bloodlines above all else.
He'd already posted in the group chat, telling Emily she had to take me for another test immediately.
Emily didn't reply.
But I knew she must be losing her mind right now.
Suddenly, a burst of noisy footsteps echoed outside the door.
A sharp metallic crash followed, loud enough to make the walls tremble.
The wooden door was kicked open.
It slammed against the wall, barely hanging on its hinges.
Eloise stood at the entrance.
She was wearing a Chanel jacket from the latest fall collection, gripping a baseball bat in her hand.
Two street punks with bleached yellow hair flanked her.
"Grace, looks like you've grown a backbone," Eloise sneered.
She stepped inside, scanning the cramped room with a look of disdain.
"You actually think you can be a Davidson heiress, living in a dirty place like this?" Eloise sneered.
I sat on the bed, looking at her.
"Get out," I said.
"Get out?" Eloise snickered, clearly amused.
She walked over to the bed, giving the baseball bat a little swing in her hand.
Eloise sneered, "You really think posting some fake paternity test is gonna let you climb your way up and become a big shot?
"Let me tell you, even if you really are that bitch's kid, the Davidson family will never acknowledge you. My dad only recognizes one daughter, and that's me."
She raised the baseball bat, threateningly.
The battered old wardrobe beside me took the hit, a gaping hole smashed right through it.
Wood splinters flew.
"What the hell are you doing?!" my dad yelled, bursting in from outside with a pot of hot soup in his hands.
When he saw Eloise, his eyes flashed with fury.
"Get out! You're not welcome here!" he shouted, stepping in front of my bed to shield me.
Eloise shot him a look of pure contempt.
"Just a car mechanic, and you think you can shout at me?" Eloise scoffed.
She shot a look at the two punks behind her.
"Go ahead, wreck the place," she ordered. "Let's see if they still have the guts to ask for money."
The two punks didn't hesitate and started tearing the place apart.
The table got flipped, dishes smashed to pieces on the floor.
The cardboard boxes in the corner were booted open, stuff scattered everywhere.
All my schoolbooks from growing up, plus the old clothes Dad got me, ended up strewn across the floor.
Dad lunged forward to stop them, but one of the bleached punks slammed a kick right into his gut.
He doubled over, groaning in pain, and crashed onto the floor, landing among the broken shards.
"Dad!" I struggled to get out of bed, but a stabbing pain shot through my ribs, forcing me to drop back onto the mattress.
Eloise marched straight over to the cardboard box that had been kicked open.
She glanced down and then used the pointed toe of her high heel to hook a book out.
It was my high school diary.
"Wow, you actually write in a diary?" Eloise snorted.
She stomped right on the diary, crushing it under her heel with a nasty grin.
Her heel punctured right through the pages.
"Grace," Eloise looked down at me, towering over me like I was nothing. "Do you believe me when I say, with just one word, my mom could have you and your dad begging on the streets in this city?"