For Adopted Daughter, My Parents Ruin Me

Ch. For Adopted Daughter, My Parents Ruin Me Ch 6 For Adopted Daughter, My Parents Ruin Me Ch 6

Chapter 6

When they confronted her about plagiarism, they brushed it aside like an afterthought- issuing a statement in my name, declaring my withdrawal from the industry.

Julienne stood center stage, her voice weaving through the melody of Drown in Moonlight, my composition. She sang like a siren luring sailors into the depths, so hauntingly beautiful it twisted something inside me.

The judges crowned her the winner. My work, my heart poured into those notes–yet no one believed it was mine.

And then, in her acceptance speech, Julienne had the audacity to thank my father for

“polishing the lyrics.” He nodded

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along, beaming, as if he hadn’t spent nights listening to me hum those very words in our old apartment.

He handed her the trophy himself, calling her his pride.

I bit down on my lip until I tasted copper, tears slipping free.

pins free

Those lyrics were born from the ache of my years in the orphanage–now reduced to their triumph.

Even my brother played his part, solemnly telling the press, “Ten years ago, our family took a yacht out. I went surfing, got caught in a tsunami. Julienne risked everything to save me–gave me her life jacket, nearly drowned herself. She gave me a second chance. As her brother, I’ll protect her at all costs. Let her be the happiest mermaid

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princess, singing without chains.”

I laughed until my ribs hurt. Julienne? Save him? She couldn’t even tread water.

I was the one who shoved my life jacket into his hands. I was the one the waves dragged under, my back shredded against the reef. I woke up coughing blood, half–dead–and now it’s her heroic tale?

Wiping my face, I pulled up a number I hadn’t touched in years. My fingers shook as I typed:

[Does your promise still stand?]

The reply came instantly.

[Always. You’re a pearl they tried to bury in filth. I’ve seen what they’ve done–sacrificing you for that adopted fraud. There’s nothing

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left for you there. Name it. What do you need?]

I fumbled with the screen as the hospital door swung open. My mother’s gaze locked onto my phone, her face draining of color.

“Evangeline,” she hissed. “Who are you talking to? Where are you going in three days?”

I swiped the message away, flipping to my calendar instead. A single circled date:

[My birthday.]

Her shoulders sagged. She cupped my cheek, all tender concern. “Of course, sweetheart. We’ll go wherever you want.”

I entered an address–the same stretch of shore where our family vacation ended a

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decade ago.

If this began with the sea, let it end there too.

Three days later, they chartered a yacht, a joint celebration for me and Julienne.

For ten years since they “found” me, every birthday had been hers. Julienne, the golden child, who mastered the art of batting her lashes and playing damsel. Julienne, who’d never known a day without their adoration.