They Told Me I Was Adopted, I Was The Real One All Along Chapter 07

They Told Me I Was Adopted, I Was The Real One All Along Chapter 07

Mom stared at those lines until her eyes looked 

ready to bleed. 

“She knew… She knew everything…” 

Her fingers loosened, and the letter drifted onto 

the carpet. 

It was the same carpet where I’d cut my finger and 

dripped blood only days earlier. 

The stain had been cleaned, but Mom suddenly 

lunged at the spot and clawed at the wool like a 

madwoman. 

“Claire’s blood… Claire’s blood is still here…” 

“She knew she was our daughter. She watched us 

love Mia. She watched us send her away…” 

“Why didn’t she say anything? Why didn’t she 

expose us?” 

Her voice was hoarse, the cry of a desperate 

animal dying in a trap. 

At last, she understood my silence before death. 

It hadn’t been compromise or surrender. 

My heart had simply died. 

With my life, I’d drawn a chasm through that family 

that could never be crossed. 

Dad sank onto the sofa and covered his face. 

The ruthless man who had dominated the 

business world now shook with violent sobs. 

“I did this… I killed my own daughter…” 

Mia stood on the landing, watching the two of 

them break down. Her expression shifted. 

She walked down, picked up the letter, and read it. 

Panic flashed in her eyes, but she covered it 

quickly. 

“Mom, Dad, Claire knew the truth, but she wouldn’t 

want to see you this upset.” 

“She left the money to you, which means she still 

cared about this family…” 

The crack of a slap exploded through the room. 

Dad stood and struck Mia across the face. 

Mia staggered and fell against the sofa, clutching 

her swollen cheek in disbelief. 

“Dad… you hit me?” 

“Shut your mouth!” 

Dad pointed at her, eyes bloodshot, furious. 

enough to devour her. 

“What do you mean, she still cared about this 

family? That money was for her grave!” 

“You ungrateful little liar. If I hadn’t protected you 

and fed your ridiculous pride, would I have lied to 

her for nineteen years?” 

“Would I have sent her to a place that eats people. 

alive?” 

Mia bit her lip, tears spilling over. 

“That was your decision. What does it have to do 

with me?” 

“You thought you owed my biological parents, so 

you chose to trample her and put me on a 

pedestal!” 

“Now that she’s dead, you’re dumping the blame 

on me. How is that fair?” 

For nineteen years, Mia had played the sweet, considerate girl who always sacrificed for others. 

This was the first time she’d shown such a sharp, 

selfish side. 

Dad stared at her. 

He looked at the adopted daughter he’d spoiled for nineteen years and suddenly found her a 

stranger. 

I floated near the ceiling and watched the farce. I 

could only laugh. 

So this was all their love and favoritism amounted. 

to once the mask came off. 

Mom ignored their argument. 

She hugged my urn and kept murmuring: 

“Claire, Mommy is taking you home. Mommy will 

buy you clothes, the dress you liked best…” 

The next few days plunged the Whitmore family into complete chaos. 

Dad abandoned every business commitment and 

used every connection he had to send Hank and 

Linda to prison. 

He even bribed guards and asked them to give the 

two prisoners special treatment. 

It did nothing to ease his guilt. 

He began lying awake all night, replaying the 

phone call I’d made before I died. 

“Without my permission, your biological parents 

wouldn’t dare send you back.” 

“I’m going to die.” 

Every sentence flayed his nerves like a blade. 

He searched the housekeeper’s room for 

everything I’d left behind. 

There wasn’t much. A few old books and a ledger. 

The ledger was packed with records of every few dollars I’d earned doing chores over nineteen 

years, along with the eighty thousand I’d secretly 

saved. 

On the final page, I’d written one sentence: 

“Once I have my grave, I’ll be free.” 

Dad buried his face in his hands and let out a 

muffled, tortured howl. 

Mia’s life wasn’t easy either. 

Without me as her stepping stone, her clumsy 

fake–sweet routine stood out painfully against her parents‘ grief and collapse. 

One night, Mia practiced in the music room and hit 

a few wrong notes. 

Mom stormed in and swept the sheet music off the piano. 

“What are you playing? It sounds terrible!” 

Mia stood up, wounded. “Mom, it was an 

accident…” 

“Shut up! You aren’t my daughter! My daughter 

was Claire!” 

Mom’s eyes were wild as she grabbed Mia’s arm. 

“Claire lost her life for you! Why don’t you go die? 

You should have died in her place!” 

Terrified, Mia shoved her away. 

“You’re insane!” 

Mom fell, then began to giggle. 

“I am insane… Our whole family is insane.”

Mom stared at those lines until her eyes looked 

ready to bleed. 

“She knew… She knew everything…” 

Her fingers loosened, and the letter drifted onto 

the carpet. 

It was the same carpet where I’d cut my finger and 

dripped blood only days earlier. 

The stain had been cleaned, but Mom suddenly 

lunged at the spot and clawed at the wool like a 

madwoman. 

“Claire’s blood… Claire’s blood is still here…” 

“She knew she was our daughter. She watched us 

love Mia. She watched us send her away…” 

“Why didn’t she say anything? Why didn’t she 

expose us?” 

Her voice was hoarse, the cry of a desperate 

animal dying in a trap. 

At last, she understood my silence before death. 

It hadn’t been compromise or surrender. 

My heart had simply died. 

With my life, I’d drawn a chasm through that family 

that could never be crossed. 

Dad sank onto the sofa and covered his face. 

The ruthless man who had dominated the 

business world now shook with violent sobs. 

“I did this… I killed my own daughter…” 

Mia stood on the landing, watching the two of 

them break down. Her expression shifted. 

She walked down, picked up the letter, and read it. 

Panic flashed in her eyes, but she covered it 

quickly. 

“Mom, Dad, Claire knew the truth, but she wouldn’t 

want to see you this upset.” 

“She left the money to you, which means she still 

cared about this family…” 

The crack of a slap exploded through the room. 

Dad stood and struck Mia across the face. 

Mia staggered and fell against the sofa, clutching 

her swollen cheek in disbelief. 

“Dad… you hit me?” 

“Shut your mouth!” 

Dad pointed at her, eyes bloodshot, furious. 

enough to devour her. 

“What do you mean, she still cared about this 

family? That money was for her grave!” 

“You ungrateful little liar. If I hadn’t protected you 

and fed your ridiculous pride, would I have lied to 

her for nineteen years?” 

“Would I have sent her to a place that eats people. 

alive?” 

Mia bit her lip, tears spilling over. 

“That was your decision. What does it have to do 

with me?” 

“You thought you owed my biological parents, so 

you chose to trample her and put me on a 

pedestal!” 

“Now that she’s dead, you’re dumping the blame 

on me. How is that fair?” 

For nineteen years, Mia had played the sweet, considerate girl who always sacrificed for others. 

This was the first time she’d shown such a sharp, 

selfish side. 

Dad stared at her. 

He looked at the adopted daughter he’d spoiled for nineteen years and suddenly found her a 

stranger. 

I floated near the ceiling and watched the farce. I 

could only laugh. 

So this was all their love and favoritism amounted. 

to once the mask came off. 

Mom ignored their argument. 

She hugged my urn and kept murmuring: 

“Claire, Mommy is taking you home. Mommy will 

buy you clothes, the dress you liked best…” 

The next few days plunged the Whitmore family into complete chaos. 

Dad abandoned every business commitment and 

used every connection he had to send Hank and 

Linda to prison. 

He even bribed guards and asked them to give the 

two prisoners special treatment. 

It did nothing to ease his guilt. 

He began lying awake all night, replaying the 

phone call I’d made before I died. 

“Without my permission, your biological parents 

wouldn’t dare send you back.” 

“I’m going to die.” 

Every sentence flayed his nerves like a blade. 

He searched the housekeeper’s room for 

everything I’d left behind. 

There wasn’t much. A few old books and a ledger. 

The ledger was packed with records of every few dollars I’d earned doing chores over nineteen 

years, along with the eighty thousand I’d secretly 

saved. 

On the final page, I’d written one sentence: 

“Once I have my grave, I’ll be free.” 

Dad buried his face in his hands and let out a 

muffled, tortured howl. 

Mia’s life wasn’t easy either. 

Without me as her stepping stone, her clumsy 

fake–sweet routine stood out painfully against her parents‘ grief and collapse. 

One night, Mia practiced in the music room and hit 

a few wrong notes. 

Mom stormed in and swept the sheet music off the piano. 

“What are you playing? It sounds terrible!” 

Mia stood up, wounded. “Mom, it was an 

accident…” 

“Shut up! You aren’t my daughter! My daughter 

was Claire!” 

Mom’s eyes were wild as she grabbed Mia’s arm. 

“Claire lost her life for you! Why don’t you go die? 

You should have died in her place!” 

Terrified, Mia shoved her away. 

“You’re insane!” 

Mom fell, then began to giggle. 

“I am insane… Our whole family is insane.”