Chapter 2

The party was in full swing. Friends and family mingled, their laughter filling the private room David had booked. He was at the center of it all, a glass of whiskey in his hand, recounting Lily' s academic achievements to anyone who would listen. He was the doting father, bursting with pride.

I stood by the window, watching them. From the outside, we were the perfect family. Successful, loving, generous. A testament to the idea that family is built on love, not blood. What a joke.

Lily took the small, makeshift stage near the front of the room, tapping a glass for attention. The room fell silent. She looked radiant under the soft lights, her expensive dress shimmering. The dress I had bought for her.

"I just want to say a few words," she began, her voice smooth and confident. "I know I say this all the time, but I am so, so lucky. When I think about my life, I know none of it would have been possible without my two amazing parents, Sarah and David Miller."

She paused, looking directly at us. David was already wiping his eyes with a napkin.

"They took in a baby who had nothing and gave her everything," she continued, her voice trembling slightly for dramatic effect. "They taught me, they supported me, they loved me unconditionally. You aren' t just the people who raised me. You are my mom and dad, in every single way that matters. I love you both so much."

Applause erupted. Several of our friends looked at me with misty eyes. "You've done such a wonderful job, Sarah," my friend Clara whispered, squeezing my arm. "She's a remarkable young woman."

If only you knew, I thought. If only you knew that in a few months, in my other life, this "remarkable young woman" would be standing on my doorstep with her biological mother, demanding I sign over the deed to my house. She claimed it was the least I could do to compensate for the "emotional trauma" of being raised by strangers. The memory made my blood run cold with fury. She had used our love as a weapon against us, twisting every sacrifice into a grievance.

I remembered the day I found the bank statements. The large, systematic transfers. The condo down payment, gone. The car fund, gone. Then the final, gut-wrenching discovery: my retirement account, which she had gained access to by forging my signature on a power of attorney form she claimed was for a school project, completely emptied. All of it funneled to the Johnsons.

I had confronted her, shaking with a rage and hurt so profound I could barely speak. She had simply stared at me, her expression hardening, and delivered the line that would haunt me until my death. "You're not my real parents."

Now, as she stepped down from the stage and hugged a tearful David, a commotion started near the entrance of the restaurant. Two figures, a man and a woman, stood there, looking hesitant and out of place in their worn, cheap clothes.

It was them. Brenda and Gary Johnson. Right on schedule.

A ripple of confusion went through the party guests. The restaurant manager was trying to speak with them, but Brenda pushed past him, her eyes scanning the room until they landed on Lily.

"Lily?" she called out, her voice raspy. "Is that you, my baby girl?"

Lily froze, her smile vanishing. David' s arm tightened around her protectively. "Who are you people?" he demanded. "This is a private party."

Brenda' s eyes filled with tears. She took a few steps forward, her husband Gary trailing behind her like a shadow. "We didn't mean to intrude," she said, her voice breaking. "We just... we had to see her. We're her parents. Her real parents."

The room fell into a stunned silence. All eyes were on Lily, whose face was pale with shock.

Brenda seemed to take this as her cue. She fell to her knees, her hands clasped in front of her as if in prayer. It was a disgustingly theatrical gesture.

"Lily, my darling," she wailed, crawling a few feet closer. "We've been looking for you for so long! We never wanted to give you up. We were just poor kids, we had no choice! We've regretted it every single day for twenty-two years!"

Gary stood by, looking suitably pathetic and helpless. He was the weak accomplice, letting his wife do all the dirty work.

Lily was completely flustered. She looked from the kneeling woman on the floor to David and me, her eyes wide with confusion and a dawning, misplaced pity.

"Please," Brenda sobbed, reaching a hand out towards Lily. "Just let us talk to you. Let us explain. We miss you so much. You have a brother, Lily. A little brother who has dreamed of meeting his big sister his whole life."

She was laying it on thick, painting a tragic picture of heartbroken parents forced into an impossible decision. It was a masterpiece of manipulation, designed to prey on Lily's emotions and the guilt she never knew she had.

In my last life, this scene had been the hook. It had reeled Lily in, and she never escaped. She had looked at me with pleading eyes, begging me to "just hear them out." And like a fool, I had agreed.

This time, I just stood there, my expression unreadable. I watched as Lily took a tentative step towards the woman on the floor. The bond of blood, already tightening its grip.