The Test That Shook Two Mothers

My mom treated me like the dirt beneath her shoes but worshiped my cousin like a queen.

Since I could walk, I had scrubbed clothes and cooked meals, but I would still be yelled at or smacked if I messed up. On the contrary, my cousin twirled in princess dresses and played the piano. She was cherished by my aunt and uncle like she was the center of their world.

Then came the day everything changed. At my cousin's birthday party, my mom got drunk and spilled the secret—she switched me and my cousin at birth.

It turned out that I wasn't her daughter; I was my aunt's daughter.

I was over the moon. Finally, I thought I'd found my real family, people who might actually care about me. But when I told my aunt, she just smirked.

"You think I didn't know? I don't want you. You'll never be my daughter."

Her words hit me like a bucket of ice water.

I couldn't understand. Why didn't anyone want me? But that day, I made a vow—I'd never beg for anyone's love again.

Years later, when I got into Mayward University—the best educational institution in the country—I threw two DNA test reports on the table in front of them.

For the first time, they both looked terrified.

"Cursida Claire! Where have you been? Didn't I tell you Annie's birthday party is today?"

I jumped, snapping my book shut and shoving it into the cabinet. Annie was my cousin.

Mom stormed in, sliding the door open. Her eyes landed on me while I stood timid and frozen in place, her face twisting with that familiar mix of disgust and impatience.

"Look at you, all pathetic and useless. How could you ever compare to Annie? Hurry up and let's go."

I hurried to follow her, but I was not fast enough. She yanked my arm so hard I nearly stumbled.

Mom did not love me.

I had known that for as long as I could remember. Even my name felt like a constant reminder of her resentment.

Aunt Monica once told me it was because my real dad was a jerk who ditched us. Mom could not forgive him, so she could not love me either.

So, I tried to win her over. I studied harder than anyone, proudly handing her my perfect test scores. But she just ripped the papers to shreds and tossed them at me.

"You could study until you're old and gray, and you'd still never measure up to Annie!" she hissed.

I swallowed my tears and worked even harder, desperate to prove her wrong.

I was not useless. I was not worse than Annie.

But it did not matter. One day, she snatched away my notebooks and pencils and handed me a mop and a broom instead.

"Why waste time studying when you could clean the house? From now on, you'll mop every day and start learning to cook! I'm not raising you for free."

The one chance I had to prove myself was studying, and she crushed it. Maybe I was just born to be unwanted. How could I compete with Annie, who was so clearly loved?

That thought hit me hard when we got to Aunt Monica's house.

Annie stood there, all dolled up in a perfect dress and a sparkly tiara. She was surrounded by her friends and ready to cut her birthday cake.

And me? I did not even dare take off my shoes.

My socks were full of holes, and my shoes were practically falling apart. One wrong step and the soles might come clean off.

When Mom saw me hesitating, she scowled.

"You're such a disgrace," she muttered, throwing me a pair of oversized men's slippers.

Then, as if flipping a switch, she turned around with a dazzling smile on her face and handed Annie a gift.

"Annie, here's my present for you. Look, this is the crystal necklace you've always wanted!"

The pendant on the necklace was shaped like a swan, and when Annie put it on, she looked like a real princess.

I couldn't help feeling a stab of jealousy. Annie and I shared the same birthday, but I had never gotten a gift—not even a cheap one, let alone something as beautiful as that.

"Thank you, Aunt Moira!" Annie said sweetly, and Mom's face lit up.

"Oh, Annie, you're so smart and thoughtful," she gushed. "Not like that useless girl over there. She's as good as a corpse. She doesn't even know how to talk!"

I stared down at the shiny floor, where my gaunt reflection trembled. I looked like an outsider peeking in on someone else's happiness.