Chapter 2: Second Chance, New Resolve

When I opened my eyes, I was lying in bed. “Mariah, you’re awake?” Marcus hurried to my side, grabbing my hand. “Dr. Wood just checked you. He said you were just stressed. You’ll be fine after some rest.”

Dr. Wood? I frowned. He was our old family doctor, but he’d moved away years ago and was replaced. Marcus reached to touch my forehead. I turned my head, avoiding his hand. He froze, then slowly pulled back. He sighed. “You’re mad at me too? I just spoke up for Savannah. No matter what she did, she’s still a kid. You have to give her a chance to make things right! Why send her to boarding school? It’s so strict there. You scared her half to death.”

I barely heard him. But one thing stood out—he looked younger. I checked myself. I was solid again. No more ghost. I grabbed my phone off the nightstand. It said 2014. I shot up, staring at the old-model phone. I finally believed it—I was back eight years ago.

I hurried out of bed. Got dressed, grabbed my purse, and ran out. Marcus called after me, but I ignored him. Downstairs, Lila was comforting a sobbing Savannah on the sofa. I ignored them and headed outside. I went to the garage, got in my car, and drove straight to the company headquarters.

In my office, I called in my assistant, Jamie Price. “Help me find someone.”

Given a second chance, the first thing I needed to do was find my real daughter. Everything else could wait. I had a lounge in my office, so I didn’t go home for three days. Jamie was efficient. Using the hospital and Lila as leads, he found the answer by the third day.

“Lila’s cousin, Darlene Monroe, was childless for years. Then they adopted a girl. Two years later, they had twins, but the girl stayed. The story goes that Lila’s mother brought the girl home, said she found her at a church fair. Since Darlene and her husband had no kids, she gave her to them.”

As soon as I got the news, I drove to Lila’s hometown, Willow Creek. Willow Creek was just over a hundred miles from the city—a drive of less than two hours. By the time I arrived, it was nearly dark. Jamie waited for me at the edge of town. “Ms. Whitaker, do you want to see the girl now?”

I hadn’t told Jamie the girl’s real relationship to me. I just told him to notify me as soon as he found her, and not to alert her family. “No, if I go now, her family might find out,” I said. “Let’s wait.”

“No need. The girl’s selling stuff on Main Street. Her parents aren’t around,” Jamie said.

I stopped and looked around. It was the dead of winter. The wind was sharp, stinging my face. In this cold, nearly dark, a little girl was selling something on the street?

“Take me there,” I said. From a distance, I saw a small figure sitting by the curb. She looked about thirteen or fourteen, with a ponytail, small, like a little bird. She sat quietly on a folding stool, a book on her knees, writing with her right hand. At her feet were several mason jars.

Suddenly, my feet felt like lead. I could barely move. I clenched my fists, gritted my teeth, and forced myself forward.

“Want to buy homemade pickled eggs?”

Hearing me approach, the girl put down her pen and looked up with a bright smile. Her cheeks were red, windburned from the cold. Her hands, reaching for the jars, were red and chapped, her knuckles cracked from the cold.

The closer I got, the faster my heart raced. A mother’s instinct told me—she was my daughter. But my daughter clearly hadn’t had an easy life.

Her puffy jacket was old and clearly a man’s, a hand-me-down. Her pants looked like thin school uniform pants. Her shoes were faded canvas sneakers, ankle socks barely covering her ankles. She must be freezing. My girl was shivering, trying to stay warm.

Blinking back tears, I squatted down. “Are these eggs homemade?”

“Yes, I made them myself,” the girl said, pointing at the jars, beaming. “Don’t worry, I’ve been making pickled eggs since third grade. They’re delicious, promise.”

“Shouldn’t you be studying at your age? Why are you out here making and selling pickled eggs?” I asked gently.

“Kids from poor families have to grow up fast!” she said, eyes crinkling. “How many do you want?”

“We’re stocking up for the holidays. I’ll take all of them,” I said. “No need for a bag—I’ll buy the jars too.”

“With the jars, that’s thirty-six even.” She was thrilled to sell out.

I handed her forty. “Keep the change. Get yourself some snacks.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” she said, happily pocketing the bills.

“Take these to the car,” I told Jamie. The girl tucked the money in her backpack, picked up her stool, and was about to leave when a burly woman stomped over.

“Out here selling eggs at night again? I told you nobody’d buy them, but you never listen. Are you just lazy?” The woman swatted at the girl’s head.

I was about to step in, but the girl dodged easily. She must have gotten hit a lot at home to be so good at dodging.

The woman missed, got angrier, and grabbed for the girl’s ear. “Still dodging? You little brat! Get home and start dinner! Your brother and sister’s homework needs help, and there’s chores—always slacking off...”

“Mom—I made money! Ow!” the girl squeaked as her ear was twisted. “Look, I sold all the eggs, jars and all—thirty-six dollars!”

The woman paused, then grinned. “Really? Hand it over!”

The girl gave her the money, sneaking a pleading glance at me, hoping I’d keep quiet about the extra four dollars I’d given her.

I couldn’t help but feel a little proud. My daughter was clever—saving up a little for herself despite this family. But watching her walk away with the woman, my eyes stung and tears slipped out.

My real daughter was living such a hard life. In this freezing winter, she was out hustling on the street, and even the little she made was snatched away. After all her work, she was left with just a few dollars.

Savannah had been pampered her whole life. I named her Savannah—she was my treasure, my pearl. She really did live like a princess. The fake daughter enjoyed a life of luxury, while my real daughter suffered every day. She didn’t even have new clothes. Her face and hands were raw and cracked from the cold. She had to make and sell eggs, do chores, help her siblings, and get yelled at by her foster parents…

Marcus and Lila. Those two were monsters. I would make them pay.

With my real daughter so close, I wanted nothing more than to hug her and bring her home. But I couldn’t risk alerting them. If they found out what I knew, they might run. I had to gather evidence, quietly. Make sure they paid for every crime. So, for now, my daughter would have to wait a little longer.

I had Jamie hire a private investigator to watch Darlene’s family in Willow Creek and secretly keep my daughter safe. If she was bullied, I wanted to know right away. I had a battle to fight at home.

I stayed at a small inn in Willow Creek that night. The next morning, I watched my daughter walk to school before heading back to the city.

At home, I found the three of them on the sofa—Savannah between Marcus and Lila, all laughing together. I stopped and watched. How had I never noticed before? They acted so close, like a real family. Why hadn’t I suspected anything? This was what a family of three should look like.

Savannah was the first to spot me. She jumped up and called, “Mom!” The other two froze, then quickly stood too.

“Mariah, where have you been the past few days? You didn’t answer your phone,” Marcus said, coming over with concern.

“I had something urgent at work,” I said, heading inside.

“I’ll go make lunch,” Lila said softly, smiling at everyone before heading to the kitchen.

I leaned on the sofa, closed my eyes, and started thinking. After a while, I heard a pitiful voice beside me. “Mom!”

I opened my eyes to see Savannah snuggled up, hugging my arm and resting her head on my shoulder, looking sweet and innocent.

“Mom, I know I was wrong. I’ll apologize to Emma like you said. Please don’t send me to boarding school, okay?”

Her words reminded me of this point in time. Savannah was in her second year of middle school. She was at that rebellious age, hanging out with a bad crowd. That year, she got in so much trouble I was called to school a dozen times. Because I was busy at work, Marcus handled most of it. This time, she hit another girl and split her head open. The girl was badly hurt, needed stitches, and had to stay in the hospital.

Before, I got so mad at Savannah for refusing to apologize and insisting the girl’s family just wanted money. I threatened to send her to boarding school. This happened in my last life too. I remembered what happened next.

Back then, after I woke up, Savannah suddenly became obedient, crying and apologizing, even going to the hospital to say sorry as I asked. Not only that, she seemed like a different person—never talking back, always caring for me, remembering my birthday every year and buying me cake and gifts.

I was so relieved, thinking she’d finally grown up. But now, looking back, her change was too sudden. Kids mature gradually, not overnight. Before, Savannah had a temper like a firecracker—contrary just for the sake of it. I used to worry about when she’d ever grow up. Could she really have changed just because I threatened her with boarding school?

She was scared of boarding school, sure, but if that was the reason, she’d only behave for a while before going back to her old ways. But in reality, she never talked back or fought with me again after that. For a child’s personality to change so drastically, something big must have happened.

At dinner, Lila brought the food and patted Savannah’s head. “All your favorites. Eat up. Tomorrow, listen to your mom and go apologize.” Anyone who didn’t know better would think they were real mother and daughter.

Savannah nodded. “Okay.”

I’d really underestimated her. For a teenage girl to learn such a life-changing truth and not show any panic or fear was impressive. It must have been around this time in my last life too—Savannah probably learned her real identity then. I didn’t know why they hid it for so long, or why they chose to tell her now.

There was a famous boarding school here, with strict rules and only half a day off each month. Lila probably feared I’d really send Savannah there, so she told her the truth in a panic and taught her to play nice. That explained Savannah’s sudden change.

As the only heir to a fortune, suddenly learning she was a fake, how could she not feel threatened? Of course she became obedient.

That night, I was working in my study. There was a knock at the door. “Mom, Lila made you some herbal tea. Drink it while it’s hot,” Savannah brought in a steaming mug.

She set it on my desk. The mug was filled with dark tea. The smell was strong but not unpleasant. The scent brought back memories. I vaguely remembered drinking this tea for a while in my last life.

I looked at Savannah lovingly. “What kind of tea is this?”

“Oh, you said your stomach hurts every month. I asked an herbalist, and he said you need to keep warm. Lila will make you this tea every day. A few months and you’ll be fine,” Savannah said, looking up at me with bright eyes.

But I noticed the way she said “you”—careful, formal—wasn’t like her. Kids can’t hide their nerves; it leaks out in the details. I never suspected her before, so I never noticed these little things.

“Thank you, Savannah. You’re so thoughtful now,” I smiled.

“Mom, I was immature before. I won’t make you mad anymore,” she said. “Drink it while it’s hot.”

I took a sip. “It’s a bit hot. I’ll wait a bit.”

Twenty minutes later, she poked her head in. “Mom, did you finish the tea?”

“All done,” I smiled, handing her the mug. “Go to bed early—you have class tomorrow.”

“Okay, Mom.”

The next day at the office, Jamie brought me a stack of documents—the private investigator’s report. I nodded and took them. “By the way, have someone test this herbal tea. Find out what’s in it and what it does.”

I handed him the mug I’d saved from last night. After he left, I started reading the files.

I remembered wanting to hire a nanny after giving birth. Lila was recommended by Marcus. I never suspected anything, because he said she was a distant cousin. I initially refused—I wanted someone older, with experience. But Marcus said his cousin had suffered abuse and could never have kids. She’d given up on marriage and just wanted to support herself. He said she was a college grad, so she could help with both Savannah’s studies and life.

“She has a good education. Why work as a nanny?” I asked.

“After a failed marriage, she’s lost her ambition. Letting her help us with the baby would give her something to do,” Marcus said. “Just do me a favor and give her a chance.”

Having just given birth, I felt sorry for a woman who couldn’t be a mom, so I agreed. I was a bit selfish too—if she couldn’t have kids, she’d love mine more.

Lila came to our house with Marcus’s mother—my mother-in-law—which put me at ease. I never doubted their family connection. At first, I was nervous about leaving the baby with her. I checked the home security cameras constantly. At the time, our system didn’t stream to phones—only to a computer. I kept a laptop in my office just to check the feed.

After a while, I saw Lila was genuinely attentive and caring. Once, she tripped on the stairs carrying the baby, fell and hit her head, but protected the baby the whole way down. After that, I felt safe leaving Savannah with her. She stayed in our home for over a decade, caring for Savannah and managing the kitchen. I paid her well, with extra bonuses for holidays. Given her family connection to Marcus, I treated her like family and never suspected a thing.

But now I realized—if they could switch my baby right after birth, they must have known each other long before and planned everything. Maybe even my marriage to Marcus was part of their scheme.

After reading the files, my suspicions were confirmed. They were wolves in sheep’s clothing, scheming for years to steal the Whitaker fortune. And they were repeat offenders. Before meeting me, they’d already pulled off scams and cons, hiding their past well. If I hadn’t hired a private investigator, I’d never have known.

Marcus and Lila went to college in the same city, probably met through friends, and started dating in college. After graduation, Lila married an older student, but divorced within six months. He gave her his entire savings and left for Alaska, never to return. At the same time, Marcus was dating a wealthy girl. She wanted to marry him, but her parents sent her abroad. She spent a lot on him—bought him a car and several watches. After breaking up, Marcus and Lila got back together. They even blackmailed a businessman once. Lila went to his hotel room, he thought she was an escort, and let her in. As soon as they got in bed, Marcus burst in with a camera, claiming Lila was his sister and the man was seducing her. The businessman, not wanting a scandal, paid them hush money.

They never did honest work, living off scams and cons for years. Until they met me and decided to go big—once and for all.

I met Marcus on a plane. I’d just done IVF out of state and was a month pregnant. In college, I’d had a few short relationships, but after graduation, I worked in my family’s business and never dated again. As an only child, I knew I’d inherit the company and always stayed focused. After my father died suddenly of a heart attack, I felt deeply alone. My mother died young, so it was just me and my dad. Now I was completely alone in the world.

I desperately wanted a child—a blood relative to prove I wasn’t alone. With my wealth, I wasn’t worried about raising a child, so I did IVF. On the plane, I was nauseous. Marcus kindly called the flight attendant and got me medicine.

After that, I kept running into him. One time at a restaurant, I asked what he wanted.

“I fell for you at first sight on the plane,” he said, rubbing his nose.

“You probably don’t know—I was sick because I was pregnant.”

He turned pale. After a long pause, he lowered his head and walked out sadly. I felt a little sorry for him.

“I’m not married—it’s IVF. But I don’t plan to get married. I’ll raise the child alone. Sorry!”

That was how I really felt. I already had a child, so I didn’t need a man.

But he brightened up. “I’m not giving up!”

His pursuit was gentle and considerate—always thinking ahead for me. No one had ever treated me so well, except my parents. What moved me most was when I was hospitalized with a foot injury. He took care of me day and night for a week. When I was discharged, I was energetic, but he had dark circles under his eyes and looked exhausted. That moment, I was touched. What woman doesn’t want a man who treats her like a child?

I accepted him, and we quickly got married. Since I was with him, I wanted my child to have a complete family. I told him I only wanted one child—no more. He agreed. “Being with you is like winning the lottery. I can’t ask for more.”

After marriage, he treated me with endless care for over a decade. His mother pressured us for children, but he shielded me, even keeping her from visiting. For over ten years, my life was smooth. What touched me most was how he treated Savannah like his own daughter—sometimes even more attentive than I was. He attended most of her parent-teacher meetings. To make up for my absence, he took a less demanding job with a lower salary. Not every man is willing to be a stay-at-home dad. To thank him, I was generous with money. I never doubted him, even when it came to money. He never asked for more or tried to get involved in the company. I was firmly in charge—he never even set foot in the company headquarters.

Looking back, he was just incredibly patient and skilled at pretending. If Lila hadn’t gotten pregnant, he could’ve kept up the act for years, waiting for the perfect moment to get rid of me. Facing an enemy like that, I had to stay sharp and careful. I couldn’t let him suspect a thing. Marcus, let’s see who’s more patient.