I didn't hold back. While Wesley wasn't looking, I scooped her up and ran.
Downstairs. Into the car. Engine on before he even made it out.
I checked the rearview.
Wesley was chasing us. Reporters right behind him.
I hit the gas.
In the back seat, Lily's tears were gone. Her eyes turned cold.
"Mom, even if you do a hundred tests, it won't change anything. I'm your daughter."
A smug smile curled on her lips.
I said nothing. I cut across lanes.
The older she got, the more something felt off.
It started with a kindergarten physical. Her blood type came back A.
I'm O. Wesley's B. No way she could be A.
I called the school. They said it was a mistake.
Later, I took her to the hospital myself. This time, it came back B. Wesley kept saying I was just stressed, overthinking it.
That night, Lily walked into my room with a knife.
I'm a light sleeper. I jerked awake. "What are you doing?"
"Mom, can you just die?" Her voice was soft, almost sweet—but it cut cold.
I flipped on the light. She slipped the knife behind her back, face all innocence.
I pressed her all night. Nothing. Just tears.
By morning, she was back to her usual self—sweet, well-behaved.
I even wondered if Wesley or his mom—Caroline—put her up to it. No proof.
It felt like she was two people.
In front of everyone, she was obedient, adorable.
But at night, when it was just us, she flipped—cold, selfish.
When Lily realized we weren't heading to the usual hospital, she frowned. "Where are you taking me?"
"To the hospital," I said. "Just not the one we went to before."
She looked out at the unfamiliar streets—then panicked, slamming her fists against the window.
"Let me out! I don't want another DNA test! I am your daughter!"
My phone rang. Wesley.
I picked up.
"Maya Madison! Where are you taking Lily? If anything happens to her—"
"To the hospital."
"You're going the wrong way!" His voice spiked, panic breaking through.
I kept my voice calm, almost amused. "Bellemont Medical Center. We've been to St. Rosaline Hospital too many times."
He started tripping over his words. "Go to St. Rosaline! I'll let you do the test—I won't stop you!"
"Dad, save me! Mom said she's taking me to die with her! Save me! I don't want to be with her!" Lily suddenly screamed.
I caught her in the rearview mirror. Her face twisted, vicious.
I hung up and hit the gas.
At Bellemont Medical Center, I dragged her straight to the second-floor lab.
I'd already booked it.
Lily's face kept draining, paler with every step. When we hit the second floor, someone called out—
"Maya, what are you doing here?"
Sasha Reed. My best friend.
Wesley rushed up right then. The second he saw her, the panic on his face eased.
"Sasha can go with us too. I'm not stopping you. Just go to St. Rosaline. Don't you trust Sasha?"
Sasha lost her parents young. Her grandparents raised her.
They were always busy, barely scraping by.
My mom felt bad. She brought Sasha over all the time.
Whatever I had, she had too.
We grew up side by side.
After graduation, my mom helped her land a job at St. Rosaline.
We were basically sisters.
She'd handled every DNA test before this.
"Sasha!" Lily ran over, grabbing her hand, eyes on me, wary.
