Chapter 3: The Daughter I Lost

While I was planning, I got a call from the investigator. “Maddie’s hurt.”

I immediately headed for Willow Creek. Maddie was my real daughter’s name—her foster parents named her Maddie Monroe. Their choice of name showed how little they cared.

At the hospital, I saw Maddie’s foot wrapped in gauze, limping along. How could her foster parents not even get her a crutch? No crutch—couldn’t they at least help her walk? They just let her hobble on her own. As they passed me, her foster mother, the burly woman, scolded her for costing money.

“Can’t you make things easier? Can’t even ride a bike without crashing and taking your siblings down with you. Good thing they’re okay, or you’d be in real trouble!”

Her foster father, Darlene’s husband, added, “We’re not coming to change your bandages tomorrow! You think that’s free?”

I was beside myself. She was clearly badly hurt—how could they skip her care?

After they left, I asked the investigator what happened. His story made my heart ache. The Monroe family had only one bike—a big, old one with a crossbar. Maddie rode it to school every day, taking her brother and sister. Her sister sat on the crossbar, her brother on the back seat. Maddie was short and couldn’t reach the seat, so she had to stand and pedal. That morning, she tried to get her brother to walk up the hill, but he refused. She pedaled hard, but the bike toppled, and all three fell. Her sister was furious, blaming Maddie for her scraped hand and threatening to tell their father. Maddie didn’t say a word—she got up and took them to school. Then, the investigator saw her go to a corner of the schoolyard, climb the wall, and jump off, gritting her teeth.

I couldn’t stop crying. She must have hurt herself on purpose, so her foster parents couldn’t blame her for her siblings’ injuries. To avoid being punished, she’d rather hurt herself. What kind of life was she living? She was terrified of being beaten. I covered my mouth and squatted down, sobbing. My real daughter was living like this.

I booked a room in a small inn and decided to stay a few more days. With Maddie in this state, I couldn’t leave.

The next day, I waited for her on her way to school. Her foot was hurt, so she couldn’t ride the bike. Darlene rode the bike with the younger siblings, while Maddie hobbled alone.

“Hey, we meet again,” I said. Maddie looked surprised. “You’re the lady who bought my eggs?”

I nodded. “That injury is serious. Shouldn’t you go to the hospital for a shot?” I pointed at her swollen foot.

She lowered her head. “My parents said it’ll heal on its own. Hospitals cost too much.”

“Nonsense. It can’t be ignored,” I said gently. “Let me take you. Don’t be scared—I’m not a bad person. Look, it’s a main road, lots of people. We’ll walk. You don’t have to worry.”

“Ma’am, I trust you. But hospitals cost money, and I don’t have any.”

My heart twisted in pain. “It’s fine. I feel a connection with you. I’ll pay.”

At the hospital, I had the doctor change her bandages and give her a shot. Outside the exam room, Maddie bit her lip, embarrassed. “Ma’am, I know it’s wrong to spend someone else’s money. But I really hurt. It cost fifty-six dollars. Give me your number, and I’ll pay you back when I can.”

I held back tears. “It’s fine. Next time you make pickled eggs, give me some. They’re delicious.”

She smiled. “Okay.”

As we walked out, we passed a big mirror in the lobby. Our reflections appeared side by side. She tilted her head, studying us.

At the curb, I was about to say goodbye when she suddenly asked, “Are you my mom?”

My heart jumped. I nearly tripped over my own feet. “W-why do you ask?” I stammered.

“Just kidding. How could you be my mom?” Maddie looked down, disappointed.

“You know you’re not their real child?” I asked.

“Yeah, I’ve always known. My parents say I have to take care of my siblings or they’ll throw me out. After all, I’m not their real kid.”

I couldn’t help it—I hugged her tight. My daughter had grown up under the threat of abandonment. Knowing she wasn’t their real child, always afraid of being thrown out—how scared she must have been.

The hug seemed to unlock her pent-up feelings. She started sobbing, then wailed loudly. I patted her back, comforting her.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry for being rude,” she said after crying. “No one’s ever been so gentle with me. I wish I had a mom like you. I watch TV shows where the heroine is abused as a child, then finds her real parents and has a happy life. I wish I could be the heroine. That one day, my real parents would show up and say they’ve been looking for me and love me so much.”

Tears streamed down my face. She continued, “I saw you at the hospital yesterday. Today you brought me to get my bandages changed. You’re so kind to me. When I saw our reflections in the mirror, I thought we looked alike. I couldn’t help but imagine you might really be my mom, secretly watching over me.”

She blushed, embarrassed. “It’s just wishful thinking. I’m just an ordinary kid—how could I be the heroine? Ma’am, do you think I’m silly?”

I shook my head and hugged her. “Sweetheart, I am your real mother. You are the heroine!”

Forget being calm, forget waiting for the right moment, forget not alerting the enemy—I couldn’t care about any of that. All I knew was my daughter needed me. She longed for her real mother!

Her eyes lit up, then dimmed. “Ma’am, you’re a good person. Thank you for comforting me.”

“I’m not lying,” I looked her in the eyes. “You really are my daughter. It’s a long story...”

After I explained everything, she sobbed in my arms. “You... don’t blame me?” I asked carefully.

She shook her head. “It’s not your fault. It’s those bad people. They stole me when you were unconscious!”

She clenched her fists. “We have to catch them, Mom—” She stopped suddenly.

“What did you call me?” I grabbed her hands, excited. “Say it again?”

“I... I can’t,” she blushed deeply.

“It’s okay. Mommy can wait,” I patted her head. “I’m sorry, Maddie. We can’t reveal this yet. Give me some time, and I’ll send those two to jail.”

“Okay.” She nodded. “I trust you. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Be good. Wait for Mommy to come get you.” I waved at her from the car.

“Wait—” she ran over, leaning on the window. “Those people are bad. I know you hate them, but you can’t break the law.”

Warmth filled my heart. This was my daughter—after all the injustice, after being denied the life she deserved, she was still calm and kind. Heaven had finally shown me mercy. With such a good daughter waiting for me, I couldn’t afford to make a wrong move.

On the way back, Jamie called. He said the herbal tea had been tested—mostly warming herbs, but one could cause fertility problems if taken long-term.

Thinking of Savannah’s eager look when she brought me the tea, I felt a chill. We weren’t related by blood, but I’d loved her for over a decade. But the first thing this not-even-fifteen-year-old did after learning the truth was to give me something that would harm me. So cold-hearted. All my years of care were wasted on her.

The tea was made by Lila, but Marcus must have known. Both adults were in on it. But for over a decade, there was no herbal tea—until Savannah learned her real identity. Most likely, the idea came from her. She was afraid I’d have another child and threaten her position. She was no longer the little girl begging for pocket money. She’d grown up—selfish and capable of harming others.

I’d told Marcus I didn’t plan to have more children. But it’s one thing for me not to want another child, and another for them to sabotage my body so I couldn’t.

Before, I planned to wait for them to slip up and take my time. But after seeing Maddie, I changed my mind. I couldn’t wait any longer. My real daughter was suffering every day. We’d already missed so many years—every day together now was precious. I wouldn’t waste another minute on those two snakes. For their sake, I wouldn’t let my daughter suffer any longer. I needed to act fast.