Slapped the Fake Heiress

I hate paperwork. But Montgomery Resort's environmental reports? These actually make me angry.

My desk is covered with documents that basically scream "we don't give a damn about nature." I've been building this case for months. Next week, I'm finally filing the lawsuit that'll shut down their illegal expansion.

My phone rings. I almost don't answer.

"Temperance Cross speaking."

"Ms. Cross, this is Harrison Webb from Webb & Associates. I represent the Montgomery family. I'm calling about some DNA testing results."

I stop writing. DNA testing? "Sorry, wrong person."

"Are you Temperance Cross, born November 15th, 1979, at Denver General Hospital?"

My stomach drops. He knows too much. "Yes, but—"

"Ms. Cross, you've been matched in our genetic database. You're the biological daughter of Robert and Eleanor Montgomery."

I literally can't breathe. This has to be a joke.

"That's impossible. My parents are David and Sarah Cross."

"Your adoptive parents, yes. Forty-five years ago, there was an infant exchange at the hospital. Accidental. The Montgomery family has been searching for their daughter ever since."

I look at my family photo. Ethan and me. Phoenix and Aurora. These are my people.

"The Montgomerys want to meet you. They're hoping you and your family might join them for Thanksgiving weekend at their resort in Aspen."

Montgomery Resort. I stare at the papers on my desk. The same Montgomery Resort I'm about to destroy in court.

This is insane.

After I hang up, I just sit there. My brain is trying to process this. I have biological parents. Rich ones, apparently. And I'm literally about to sue them.

I drive home in a daze. My husband Ethan is grading papers at the kitchen table. My son Phoenix is on the couch with his laptop. My daughter Aurora is practicing violin. Normal. Safe. Home.

"You look terrible," Ethan says when he sees me.

I tell them everything. The call. The DNA match. The invitation. My family stops what they're doing and gathers around the table.

"So you have other parents?" Aurora asks. She's fifteen and looks confused.

"Biological parents," I correct. "You guys are my real family."

Phoenix leans forward. At seventeen, he's got this protective streak. "Do you want to meet them?"

Do I? I've always wondered about my birth parents. Especially when I look in the mirror and see features that don't match Mom and Dad Cross. But I'm also scared. What if this changes everything?

"It's your choice," Ethan says. He takes my hand. "But if you want to go, we're with you."

Aurora nods. "It could be good to have answers."

Phoenix shrugs. "Besides, it's just a weekend. What could go wrong?"

Two days later, we're driving through the mountains. Our SUV feels pretty normal compared to what we see at Montgomery Resort. The place is ridiculous. All glass and expensive timber. Luxury everything.

A Maserati is pulling away from a helicopter pad as we arrive. I can't even see the driver through the tinted windows.

The lobby makes me feel underdressed. Everything screams money. A small group waits by reception. I know it's them immediately.

The older couple has to be my biological parents. The man is tall with silver hair and green eyes like mine. The woman is elegant in that rich-person way. They both look nervous.

But there's a third person. A blonde woman about my age. Beautiful but cold. When she smiles, it doesn't reach her eyes.

This must be her. The one who took my place for forty-five years. The fake daughter who got to grow up here while I was... where was I? Right. Getting raised by the Cross family in middle-class Denver.

"So you're the long-lost sister," she says. Her voice is sweet but fake. "I'm Delphine. You look very... authentic."

So that's how she wants to play this. The pause before "authentic" is deliberate. I feel Ethan tense beside me. Aurora grabs my hand.

The older woman steps forward. Her eyes are teary. "Temperance. Oh my dear, you look just like I did at your age."

Eleanor Montgomery. My biological mother.

She moves to hug me, then stops. Like she's not sure if she's allowed.

The man steps forward too. Robert Montgomery. My biological father. He's more formal. He shakes my hand. "We're grateful you came. This must be overwhelming."

It is overwhelming. But not how they think. Standing in this fancy lobby, watching Delphine's fake smile, I'm thinking about my real home. Where love never depended on money.

"We've prepared the family suite for you," Eleanor says eagerly. "Though the presidential suite was already taken."

Delphine's smile gets wider. "Yes, Marcus and I always book it for our visits." Marcus must be her husband. "I hope you'll be comfortable in the... standard accommodations."

There it is again. That subtle dig wrapped in fake concern. This woman doesn't want me here.

Our rooms are nice. Really nice, actually. But clearly not the best the resort offers. The kids don't care. They're excited about skiing tomorrow.

I'm unpacking when I grab the resort's welcome folder. The cover has pretty photos of families and mountains. But the tagline makes my blood freeze.

"Montgomery Resort: Five generations of family tradition, committed to sustainable development and environmental stewardship."

I sit down hard on the bed. This can't be happening.

This isn't just any resort. This is THE resort. The one I've spent months investigating. The one whose environmental violations fill three file cabinets in my office. The one I'm planning to sue next week.

I came here looking for family. Instead, I found my next courtroom enemy.

I stare at the glossy photos of "pristine wilderness." All I can think about are the real environmental reports hidden in my files. The ones that tell a completely different story about Montgomery Resort's so-called commitment to protecting the land.

This weekend just got a lot more complicated.

I barely sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see those environmental reports. My biological family's resort. The lawsuit I'm supposed to file Monday.

What a mess.

Morning comes too early. The kids are already excited about skiing. Phoenix is checking the weather on his phone. Aurora is bouncing around like she's had too much coffee.

"Mom, the powder looks amazing today," Phoenix says. "Can we hit the slopes early?"

I force a smile. "Sure. Let's get some breakfast first."

The resort's dining room is exactly what I expected. All wood and windows and rich people eating expensive food. We grab a table by the window.

Delphine appears like she's been waiting for us. She's dressed head-to-toe in what looks like designer ski gear. Everything matches perfectly. Even her helmet has some kind of logo I don't recognize.

"Good morning," she says. Her smile is as fake as yesterday. "I thought we could all ski together today. Get to know each other better."

I'm not sure what's worse. The fake friendliness or the way she's looking at our gear.