Chapter 3

My mom had a mole on her earlobe, too.

I instinctively touched my own earlobe. It was smooth, nothing there.

The chatter around me got even louder.

"There really is a mole..."

"Oh my god, could this actually be true?"

"If that's the case, then Isabella's last twenty years were just..."

The rest of the sentence hung in the air, but everyone understood.

My dad saw the photo, too. He was silent for a moment, then looked at Miriam. "We'll get to the bottom of this. If it's true, we'll make things right. But—"

He paused, his gaze sweeping from Miriam to Melissa. "If you dare to spread rumors or throw dirt on the Currey family, you know exactly what'll happen."

Miriam's face went pale for a moment, but she quickly straightened her back. "Mr. Currey, every word I've said is the truth! If I'm lying, may I rot in hell. I swear on my life!"

Melissa looked up and spoke softly, "Mr. Currey, I never wanted to take anything that wasn't mine. I just... I just wanted to meet you and Ms. Currey. Knowing who my real parents are is enough for me."

As Melissa said this, her eyes grew red, but she stubbornly refused to let the tears fall.

Someone in the crowd whispered, "Such a sweet kid..."

"Yeah, after twenty years of hardship out there, she still comes back so gentle."

"If the Currey family accepts her, it's not like they're losing out."

Listening to all the whispers, I suddenly found it kind of funny.

Twenty years. For twenty years, I'd lived with the Currey family, enjoying the best of everything—food, clothes, you name it.

I went to an international school, learned equestrian and piano, spent every summer studying abroad, and got everything from limited-edition designer bags to custom-made jewelry for my birthdays.

And Melissa?

She lived in a cramped rental in the slums, went to a regular public school, walked half an hour to and from school just to save a few bucks on bus fare, and in winter, her hands would turn bright red from the cold, but she still couldn't even buy hand cream.

Everything Miriam had said about Melissa suffering for twenty years, she'd already cried about earlier.

I don't blame Melissa. Seriously, I mean it.

If it were me—meant to be living the life of a rich heiress but stuck with twenty years of rough times—I'd probably feel pretty resentful too.

But what really made me want to laugh was—

Miriam's so-called "proof" and all those supposedly flawless "facts" were so riddled with holes, I almost felt sorry for her.

For example, the little girl in that photo really did have a mole on her earlobe.

But my mom's mole? She actually got it inked on when she was fifteen. She thought the original one looked ugly, so she had it removed at the hospital. Later, she missed it and had another one put back.

She told me this herself, laughing and saying I got my dad's earlobes—smooth and spotless, no need to mess with them at all.

And then there was Miriam's claim about swapping the babies on the day they were born—she said she was working as a nurse in the next room, and while my mom was knocked out, she snuck in and switched us.

Honestly, it almost sounded believable.

But she forgot that the hospital where my mom gave birth was a private place funded by my grandpa. All the rooms were single, and family members stayed with her around the clock. After my mom had me, my grandma kept watch for three days and nights—seriously, not even a fly could get in.

Plus, the head nurse was my mom's best friend. She checked in on us constantly and even took me to the nursery herself three times just to weigh me.

If Miriam had just done her homework and looked into things a bit more, she would've known all this.

But she clearly didn't even check.

Or maybe she did, but figured it wasn't worth the trouble.

After all, who would ever expect it? A nanny who'd worked for the Currey family for twenty years, always seeming meek and ordinary, suddenly stepping up and saying, "I swapped the babies." Just that alone was enough to make people forget about the details.

Add in a real heiress looking all fragile and tearful, plus a touching family reunion moment—

When the drama's this juicy, who even cares about logic?

I stood there, listening to Miriam put on her tearful performance—talking about how she'd been "confused for a moment," how she's been "wracked with guilt ever since," and slipping in lines about how "Melissa's had such a hard life, suffering all those years."

Honestly, I almost wanted to give her a standing ovation. Now that was a script worthy of an award.

Shame the actress couldn't sell it.

"Isabella," my mom suddenly called my name.

I came to and saw her standing just a few steps away, pale as a sheet. Her fingers were gripping that photo so hard, her knuckles had turned white.

"Mom," I answered.

Her lips moved, like she wanted to say something, but nothing came out.

A voice chimed in from nearby. "Ms. Currey, please don't feel pressured. Take your time, It's okay."

It was Melissa.