Chapter 3

The next evening, I couldn't stand this torment any longer.

I had to know just how much they had brainwashed my daughter.

The gentle sunset streamed through the living room window onto the coffee table, where Olivia sat hunched over her math homework, her small hand gripping the pencil in that familiar way.

I took a deep breath and approached my daughter with trembling anxiety. "Sweetheart, is that problem giving you trouble? Mommy can help you with it."

The moment I spoke, Olivia instinctively stepped back, wariness flashing in her eyes. "I'll just ask Aurora for help."

My heart clenched as she mentioned Aurora's name, not mine.

I forced a smile, my outstretched hand frozen in mid-air. "It's okay, Mommy just wants to work on it together—"

"Olivia? What's going on?"

Aurora's voice drifted down from the staircase. She wore my favorite silk robe, gliding down the stairs with practiced elegance. Seeing this scene, she immediately put on a concerned expression.

"Oh, sweet Olivia," Aurora approached and gently stroked the girl's hair, "Claire's brain is still recovering. Complex problems might give her headaches. We need to take care of her, don't we?"

Olivia nodded obediently. "I know. Claire needs her rest."

Claire!

My own daughter had been calling me by my first name! Not "Mommy"!

My breathing nearly stopped, my chest heaving, but I had to control myself.

With trembling lips, I forced out a broken smile. "Aurora's right. Mommy shouldn't push herself."

"See how thoughtful Olivia is," Aurora pulled the girl closer, "she's my most caring little helper now."

Olivia looked up at Aurora with pure adoration. "Aurora taught me so many things—cooking, painting, and how to take care of family."

"That's wonderful," my voice shook, "Mommy's proud of you."

But Olivia didn't respond to that. Instead, she turned to Aurora. "Mommy, can you check my homework?"

"Of course, little princess."

I watched Aurora naturally take the workbook, watched my daughter lean dependently into Aurora's embrace. I felt like a complete outsider in what had once been my own home.

They had stolen my daughter! Stolen everything that made me a mother!

Late that night, I crept toward Olivia's room. I had to confirm my worst fears, had to know what had happened during that lost year.

I pushed open the door. The room was dark, with only faint moonlight filtering in. I squinted, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness.

What I saw next shattered my world completely.

All our photos together were gone from the walls!

In their place hung pictures of Aurora and Olivia—baking cakes together, painting together, laughing together in the garden. On the nightstand sat a bright pink frame containing a photo of Aurora holding Olivia, with childish handwriting below: "For the best Aurora"

I covered my mouth to stifle any sound, fighting back tears. With shaking hands, I opened the diary on her bedside table, struggling to read the heartbreaking words in the dim moonlight:

[Aurora taught me to make chocolate cookies today. She said it's what love tastes like. Claire is pitiful with her brain injury, but Aurora is the one who truly loves me.]

[Daddy and Aurora said Claire might never fully recover. I feel a little sad, but Aurora protects us. She never disappoints me.]

[Aurora teaches me to paint, cook, and tells me stories. She cares about me more than anyone. I hope Claire gets better, but she'll never be my real mommy.]

Every word cut through my heart like a blade. My daughter had been completely brainwashed! In her mind, Aurora was the real mother!

What did you do to my daughter? I seethed internally, my nails digging painfully into my palms.

But I couldn't cry, couldn't break down, couldn't be discovered. I gently closed the diary and slipped out of the room.

I had to win this war!

The next day at dusk, I deliberately chose a time when Aurora was out shopping to enter the kitchen. Olivia was preparing a fruit salad, her small hands skillfully cutting apples.

"You're doing great," I said softly. "Do you remember how you used to love the strawberry salad I made?"

Olivia paused, looking at me with confusion. "Aurora says your memory isn't reliable, that you might mix things up."

My heart ached again, but I didn't give up. I pulled out a photograph from my pocket—a precious memory I'd risked taking from the album Aurora had confiscated.

"What about this?" I handed the photo to my daughter. "This is us at Sleeping Beauty Castle in Disneyland. You said you wanted to be a princess, and you made Mommy buy you that pink dress."

Olivia stared at the photo in shock, her small hands trembling slightly. In the picture, a younger version of herself wore a princess dress, hugging me joyfully, both of us beaming with happiness.

"I...I remember this photo," Olivia's voice became uncertain. "I remember that dress, the castle...but..."

Her memories were starting to crack!

I knelt down and gently touched my daughter's cheek. "You're Mommy's most precious treasure. Mommy will never forget a single beautiful moment we shared."

"I think I really do remember..." confusion filled Olivia's eyes. "You held me while we watched fireworks, and you said I was the most beautiful little princess in the world..."

Just then, the front door slammed shut.

"I'm back!" Aurora's voice rang out.

Olivia immediately became alert, quickly returning the photo to me.

Aurora entered the kitchen, acutely sensing something was wrong. "What's going on? Claire, are you having another headache? Don't strain yourself thinking too hard."

She moved to Olivia's side, eyeing me warily. "Sometimes sick people can't tell reality from imagination. You need to protect yourself, okay?"

Olivia nodded, though confusion still lingered in her eyes.

Aurora pulled Olivia toward the living room, whispering as they passed me: "Mommy's illness makes her confuse reality with imagination. You have to protect yourself."

Hearing those words, my hand gripping the kitchen knife turned white at the knuckles. Enough! This game had to end!

That night, after Aurora and Daniel had gone to bed, I walked into the garden and texted Thomas:

[Speed up the plan. They're getting suspicious, but Olivia can still be saved. I can't wait any longer.]

A cool breeze swept by as I stood before the roses my daughter and I had once planted together. Aurora had pruned them completely, changing their shape entirely.

Just like my daughter.

But determination burned in my eyes. I had once saved countless children from fires. Now, I would save my own daughter!

Whatever the cost!

My phone vibrated with Thomas's crisp reply: [Tomorrow, Riverside Park. I'll be waiting.]

I clenched my fists, looking up at Olivia's bedroom window on the second floor.

Wait for Mommy, baby. Mommy's bringing you home.