I Was Switched at Birth and Framed in School

Nadia's POV

As such, I rolled my eyes, completely out of patience.

“Keep your so-called kindness. I don’t need it. Just give me back my ID!”

Thank god I caught on in time. If I had been even a little slower, Ivy might’ve already used my ID to take out a loan.

But I glanced around the room, and my ID was nowhere in sight.

Bentley, clearly pissed, pointed at the spilled sunscreen and the now-dirty sun shirt.

“You broke Ivy’s stuff and think you can just walk away?”

I sighed, totally done with the drama. “What do you want then? Money? Fine.”

I pulled out my phone, opened the image scanner on Amazon, and scanned the brands on the sunscreen and shirt. Once I saw the total cost, I transferred the money straight to Ivy.

But Bentley wasn’t finished.

“You think just paying for it makes everything okay?”

I was about to argue with him when my phone suddenly rang. It was the hospital. They said my mom’s condition had worsened. She needed emergency surgery, and I had to come sign the consent forms immediately.

Panicked, I turned back to Bentley and shouted, “What the hell do you want from me?!”

He looked over at Ivy, who had tears welling in her eyes, and replied coldly, “Apologize to Ivy. Or forget about getting your ID back.”

I let out a laugh, cold and furious. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. You stole my ID and now you want an apology? You want me to call the cops right now?”

I raised my phone to dial.

But Bentley, completely unfazed, shrugged. “Go ahead. It’s not my mom waiting on life-saving surgery.”

Then he smugly pulled my ID out of his pocket and waved it in front of me.

I saw red at that very moment. So he had listened in on the hospital call earlier.

Fine. I wasn’t going to win by force, so I took a deep breath and pretended to give in.

“Alright. I’m sorry. It’s all my fault, okay? Now, give me back my ID.”

Yet, Ivy pouted and said in a soft voice, “If you really want my forgiveness, then drink this bottle of liquor.”

Everyone in class knew I was allergic to alcohol, especially hard liquor like this. One sip would land me in the ER.

So this was her plan. She wanted me out of the picture.

I was still trying to figure out how to handle it when Bentley suddenly twisted the bottle open and dumped the entire thing over my head.

“Ivy, you know she’s allergic. If she drinks the whole thing, she’ll die. But if I just pour it over her, we can say she’s already apologized. That okay with you?”

Ivy took one look at my soaked, miserable state and giggled. “Fine, since you’re being so sweet, I’ll let it go this time.”

They were both insane.

Absolutely done, I wiped the alcohol out of my eyes and slapped Bentley across the face hard.

He clutched his cheek, shocked and furious. “I’ve always stood up for you, Nadia. And you hit me?!”

Ivy gasped and rushed to his side like some damsel in distress. “Bentley, are you okay? This is all my fault.”

The alcohol was burning my skin. My entire body reeked. My stomach churned, and the rash from the allergic reaction had already started—itchy, red welts forming wherever the liquor had touched me.

While the two of them stood there, caught up in their little drama, I snatched my ID from the table and ran.

No time for a shower, I dove straight into the fountain outside their building and scrubbed off as much of the alcohol as I could.

Then I called a cab and rushed to the hospital.

After signing the consent form, my mom was wheeled into surgery.

The operation lasted a grueling seven hours.

When it was finally over, she was moved into the ICU. The doctor said if she remained stable for another twelve hours, she could be transferred to a regular room.

I finally let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding.

But just as I sat down to rest, a news headline popped up and shot straight to the top of the trending list.

Nadia's POV

[Top High School Class Scammed: Entire Class ID Cards Used for Massive Loan Fraud!]

The headline hit me like a punch to the gut.

Ivy’s scheme had already blown up, and way faster than I expected.

Thankfully, I’d grabbed my ID back just in time and dodged the disaster. Or so I thought.

I was still breathing a sigh of relief when, out of nowhere, a group of reporters came storming down the hospital corridor with cameras rolling and microphones in hand.

Before I could react, one shoved a mic in my face.

“You’re this year’s college entrance exam top scorer, Nadia Green, right? Your classmates are accusing you of using their IDs to take out fraudulent loans. Is it true?”

“We heard you even took out a four-hundred-grand loan using your own ID. What do you need that kind of money for?”

“There’s also an anonymous tip saying you bribed the exam officials to cheat your way to the top. Care to comment?”

At the same time, my phone blew up with dozens of messages—every single one from loan sharks demanding payment.

My brain short-circuited.

How was this happening? I had my ID back. How could I still be saddled with someone else’s debt?