Chapter 2

The perfection shattered like glass.

A commotion at the edge of the lawn, near the wrought-iron gates. Heads turned. The laughter died.

Darlene Pickett pushed through the guests, her face a mask of tear-streaked determination. Ricky, her husband, shambled behind her, his eyes darting around, already looking for something to take. And Crystal, their daughter, phone already out, filming.

They were dragging a boy with them, or rather, a young man, small for his age, his clothes ragged, his hair matted. He stumbled, his head down. Danny. I hadn't seen him in years, not up close.

Darlene stopped in the center of our carefully manicured lawn, a stark, unwelcome stain on the day' s elegance.

"Eleanor Ainsworth!" Her voice, raw and loud, cut through the sudden silence.

All eyes were on her, then on me. I felt a cold knot tighten in my stomach, the one I' d lived with for eighteen years.

"You all think you know this family," Darlene cried, her voice thick with emotion, gesturing wildly. "You think she's so perfect, with her perfect son!"

She pointed a trembling finger at Sam, who looked utterly bewildered.

"That boy," Darlene sobbed, "Samuel Ainsworth, he's not her son! He's mine!"

A gasp rippled through the guests. I kept my face still, my hands clasped.

Darlene then yanked the disheveled boy forward. Danny flinched.

"This," she announced, her voice rising to a shriek, "this is Daniel Ainsworth! Your real son, Eleanor! I swapped them! Eighteen years ago, in that hospital, I swapped them!"

She looked around, her eyes wild, seeking validation. "I did it to give my boy, my Sam, a better life! The life he deserved! The life you had, and I didn't!"

Ricky grunted in agreement, a crude sound. Crystal' s phone panned across the shocked faces, a vulture capturing the drama.

The knot in my stomach tightened, but my outward composure, honed over years of practice, held. This was it. The day I always knew might come.