Part 2I Was the "Adopted" Kid They Trained

I hadn't been in the room long before Mom called me out to help her with dinner.

When I was eight, I wasn't tall enough to reach the stove, so I could only peel garlic and wash vegetables for Mom.

At nine, I started standing on a stool to cut up vegetables.

By ten, Mom handed over all the kitchen work to me. She rarely praised me, but one time, she told me I was capable.

Meanwhile, Harper, who was a year younger than me, lived like a princess. She didn't need to know the difference between scallions and chives. All she had to do was call out to Mom sweetly, and she'd get whatever she wanted.

I started prepping the ingredients with practiced ease, working alone in the kitchen for four hours.

By the time I served all 12 dishes, Simon and Harper were already seated, both on their phones. Not one of them even offered to help me.

I had just sat down when Mom told me, "Beth, get some wine for your Uncle Seth."

I did as I was told.

"Beth, Harper finished her drink. Pour her some fruit juice."

I simply obeyed.

"Beth, place that dish in front of Simon. He loves it."

I did as she asked.

I was on my feet the whole meal, running around taking care of everyone.

After they finished eating, I collected the dishes and cleaned up the table. Then I went into the kitchen and ate the leftovers alone.

Brianna passed by and saw me, looking like she wanted to say something, but held it back.

As she and my cousin, Mia Ingram, walked away, I heard Mia whisper, "Mom, Beth is their own daughter. Why does it feel like she's living worse than the adopted one?"

Brianna cut her off. "Don't get involved."

I paused for a moment before I continued eating.

So they all knew Harper was the adopted one. I was the only one who had been kept in the dark.

…

The next day, I got up even earlier than usual. I hadn't slept all night, and my head was still a little foggy. Yet, I instinctively started making breakfast.

By the time I regained my senses, there was already a spread on the table.

Mom and Dad had sensitive stomachs, so they liked plain toast in the morning.

Simon had a big appetite, so I cooked two extra eggs and added some sausages for him.

Harper was a picky eater. I made her a pancake with cheese and bacon and cut it into small pieces so she could eat while she was on her phone.

I had never made a decent breakfast for myself, though, and it didn't matter what I liked to eat because I only got whatever they left behind.

This time, I made myself toast and eggs and sat down at the table for a bite. Who knew something as simple as this could taste this good?

After I was done eating, I took a few strands of hair, roots and all, and went to the hospital, paying extra for an expedited DNA test.

The next few hours were torture before I finally got the results. It was a 99.99% match between Mom and me, confirming that she was my biological mother.

I stared at the report for a long time before folding it neatly and holding it against my chest.

On the way home, I bumped into my elementary school friend, Jane Atkin.

She turned around and looked at me several times before stopping. "Beth Ingram?"

I nodded, and we chatted for a bit.

Jane said, "I nearly didn't recognize you. You weren't like this when we were kids, were you?"

"What was I like back then?"

Jane pondered for a moment before answering, "You used to be like a little ray of sunshine, unafraid of anything."

I waited until she was gone before letting myself cry.

I was a demanding kid before I turned eight. Whenever my family bought something, I had to have one too.

When Mom tugged on my ear and called me spoiled, I'd just grin and remind her I was her daughter, and she was the most amazing mom in the world.

Finding out that I was "adopted" killed off all that confidence. I was never the same after that.