Elsie felt the same. Raising Amilia had always left her feeling inadequate, as though every mistake reflected on her. If not for Kaleb—steady, brilliant, and dependable—she might have felt too ashamed to face the family.

“But…” Elsie hesitated, her voice trembling, “if Dr. Atkinson is right, then where is our real daughter? Who exchanged her with Amilia? How did they do it?”

The question hung over the room like a heavy shadow. Their thoughts drifted to the daughter they had lost long ago—someone raised by strangers, knowing nothing of her roots. They did not know how she had lived or whether she was even alive.

Rita stood quietly at the edge of the room, listening. She trusted that Elliana would never speak carelessly, so she had already accepted the possibility that Amilia did not belong to the Thompsons.

Kaleb paced a few steps, jaw tight.

“We will find out,” he said.

“Start with a DNA test for Amilia and Karlee. If there’s any doubt, we trace records, ask the hospital—whatever it takes.”

Edgar managed a thin nod, the lines on his face deepening with exhaustion.

“Do it. Find her. Find the truth.”

Outside the room, servants whispered and glanced at one another. The household felt smaller now, as if a single discovery had shifted its very foundation. The Thompsons had always presented a flawless front to the world; tonight that front had cracked, exposing raw, painful questions no legacy could smooth over.

Elliana’s words had started a chain that would not easily be stopped. They would test loyalties, uproot memories, and force the family to confront secrets that had been buried for years.

Elliana’s words had unsettled the Thompsons. Rita felt worry creep into her chest—if their true daughter had suffered, the pain would shatter Edgar and Elsie, and Edgar’s frail health might not survive another blow.

Feeling their sorrow, Rita finally spoke.

“Your daughter… she will return to you. I’m sure of it.”

Her voice carried a gentle calm. Everyone turned to her. Edgar and Elsie stared at her face and froze, struck by something they couldn’t name.

?o?.slou uo ss lo

For years they had felt an inexplicable closeness to Bexley and had dismissed it as simple affection. Now, with the possibility that their daughter had been switched at birth, a startling thought surfaced: why had they taken to Bexley so naturally? Was there something deeper tying them together?

Jenifer broke the silence.

“Has anyone else noticed that Bexley looks a lot like Elsie?”

Her comment kindled a spark in Edgar and Elsie. Could Bexley truly be their child?

A similar idea dawned on Kaleb. He had always felt a strange attachment to Bexley—an instinct to protect her like a younger sister. He had never understood why. Could she really be tied to him by blood?

All eyes drifted toward Bexley, heavy with hope. If she was the real Thompson daughter, their joy would be unimaginable.

.

.

.