When My Scheming Mom’s Social Climb Crashed, I Stepped Up

1 My mother, Willow, is a master of the damsel-in-distress act, though her methods are clumsy. She stole the credit for saving my father’s life from her cousin, Sophie, just to get close to him. Then she drugged him, and nine months later, there I was. When she heard Dad was about to enter an arranged marriage to secure a business alliance, she panicked, ready to unleash another storm of pitiful theatrics. To save us from being cast aside, I decided it was time for me to intervene. Her first move was to stage a fall down the stairs and frame his fiancée, Ashley. As she prepared her dramatic tumble, I launched myself into her arms, sending us both rolling down the steps. I burst into tears. “It was my fault! I missed a step, and Mommy tried to catch me! That’s why she fell so hard!” Dad’s heart ached for us. Even the Prescott family’s icy disapproval of my mother began to thaw. But Mom wasn’t done. Her next plan involved drugging Ashley and hiring a couple of lowlifes to rough her up. I took matters into my own hands. I shoved my mother into the room with Ashley, then deployed the knockout gas I’d prepared. Once everyone was unconscious, I went to work, making sure they all, including my mother, looked like they’d been through a war. When Dad arrived, he found Mom, battered and bruised, protectively shielding Ashley from harm. Ashley was overwhelmed with gratitude. She called off the engagement immediately and even convinced her family, the Vaughns, to adopt my mother as their goddaughter. Dad was consumed by a mix of guilt and admiration. He stood up to the Prescotts, finally playing the card my mother had given him. “She saved my life,” he declared, recounting the story of the car crash. “Without her, I’d be dead.” Faced with his conviction, the Prescotts finally relented and agreed to let my mother into the family. Tears of pure relief streamed down Mom’s face. But as she was joyfully planning the engagement party, Dad suddenly grabbed her wrist, his eyes red-rimmed and blazing. “Willow,” he snarled, his voice tight with fury, “Sophie just told me she was the one who saved me. Why did you lie?” My head snapped up. How could that be possible? My mother’s cousin was dead. She’d died in the hands of human traffickers over a year ago. … Mom froze, her face draining of all color as she floundered for an answer. I shot forward and pushed Dad away. “Mean Daddy! Don’t you bully my mommy!” I threw my arms around her. My “accidental” movement pulled at the collar of her dress, revealing the distinctive butterfly tattoo on her shoulder. Dad’s furious gaze fell on the tattoo, and his brow furrowed. He remembered it clearly. The person who pulled him from the wreckage of his car had been cut on the shoulder by shattered glass. Right in that exact spot. His tone softened. “I’ll have this investigated. I won’t accuse you without proof.” With that, he pursed his lips and walked out. Mom’s lips were white with fear. She began to mutter to herself, her voice trembling. “But she’s dead… How can she be back?” I was just as baffled. A year ago, my own grandfather had taken us to the morgue to identify the body. The deceased was confirmed to be my great-aunt’s daughter, Sophie. The blow was so immense that Grandpa had ordered multiple DNA tests, desperate for a different outcome. Every single one came back as a positive match. How could a dead person come back to life? Mom tried to compose herself, tucking me into bed before collapsing into her own. I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting until her breathing evened out. Then, I slipped out of bed and went down to the basement. Down there, I kept the biological samples I had secretly collected from my great-aunt’s supposed remains. I retrieved a tooth I’d saved and sent it out for re-testing at a private lab. My mind drifted back to how we got here. I knew from the moment I arrived in this world that my mother was a schemer, and not a very good one. Six years ago, she’d used the “lifesaver” story to get close to Dad. Then came the drugging, and then me. Dad never said much. He just let her have the baby and sent a check for child support every month. Nothing more. It was only a year ago, when Sophie showed up threatening to expose her, that I learned the truth: Mom was a fraud. I had been ready to step in then. But Sophie acted strangely. She demanded a sum—a mere twenty thousand dollars—and then vanished with the money and some college boy she’d been seeing. The next news we heard was from the police. They told us the man was part of a professional trafficking ring. Sophie had figured it out too late, tried to escape, and was killed in the process. Mom was consumed with a mixture of guilt and relief. Over the past year, she’d showered my great-aunt’s family with support to compensate. The new DNA results came back quickly. I read them three times. The body we claimed from the morgue was, without a doubt, my great-aunt’s daughter. My mother’s biological cousin. I breathed a sigh of relief, but the confusion remained. Sophie had never even met my father before she died. So who was this “Sophie” he was talking about? And how did she know about the rescue? I climbed back into bed, my mind racing. Just then, my mother’s phone buzzed on the nightstand. I picked it up. The screen glowed with a blatant provocation. It was a picture, taken from behind, of a woman nestled in my father’s arms. The caption was a dagger. [Willow, you stole my heroism and schemed your way into the Prescott family! I won’t let you win.] [The position of Mrs. Prescott was always meant to be mine!]

2 I deleted the message and placed the phone back where I found it. My mother’s schemes were clumsy because her nerves were weak. A message like that would send her into a tailspin, and she’d inevitably do something foolish that would only make things worse. The next morning, Ashley burst through our door like a hurricane. “Willow! Have you heard? Damian has some new woman clinging to him! Get up! We’re going to go tear her to pieces!” My mother’s face went pale. “What’s her name?” Ashley downed a glass of water in one go, then slammed a dossier onto the coffee table. I peered over to get a look. Name: Sophie. Below it was a complete life story: background, profession, even her grades from elementary school. It was, line for line, my dead cousin’s entire history. Except, of course, for the part about her death. Tucked inside were several photos of her looking intimate with my father. One was a crystal-clear headshot. She had the exact same face as my cousin Sophie. Impossible. Mom and I stared, then stared again, both of us rubbing our eyes in disbelief. My cheek stung as Mom gave me a sharp pinch. I let out a yelp, and the reality crashed down on her. “It’s not a dream! It’s really her!” A dead woman was standing right before our eyes, alive and well. Ashley watched our bizarre reactions, confused. “What’s wrong with you two?” My mom forced a bitter smile. “She’s… my cousin.” She didn’t mention that her cousin was supposed to be dead. She was probably questioning it herself, wondering if it had all been a lie. “What?” Ashley’s jaw dropped. Then her face hardened with anger. “That’s low! Even a snake doesn’t prey on its own nest! Your cousin has some nerve!” She scooped me up into her arms. “Come on! They’re on Crestwood Avenue right now. Let’s go confront those two!” Ever since Mom had “saved” her, Ashley had become fiercely protective. She’d not only willingly stepped aside but had also become Mom’s biggest champion, pushing for her to be with Dad. The Vaughns were generous, too; they’d promised to give Mom five percent of their company’s stock as a dowry. Mom felt incredibly guilty about the whole thing, but Ashley, with her straightforward nature, never noticed a thing. They were the best of friends. Ashley dragged us to a high-end shopping district, and when she found out Dad and the woman were at a cosmetic clinic, she was ready to charge in. But Mom froze, her face ashen. She saw the woman inside the clinic. It was her. It was the spitting image of her dead cousin. Mom’s feet seemed rooted to the spot. Her hand tightened on Ashley’s arm, her whole body trembling with fear. Ashley stopped, sensing her panic. Just then, Dad and the woman walked out of the clinic. The woman seemed to feel our eyes on her. She turned, and a cold, triumphant smirk spread across her lips. A moment later, Mom’s phone buzzed with another message. [Willow, just wait. I’m going to expose you for the fraud you are.] Mom’s face went completely white. She swayed, nearly collapsing. Ashley caught her, letting me down to steady her. “Willow, what is it? What’s wrong?” I used the moment of confusion to slip into the cosmetic clinic. “Hi!” I said sweetly to the receptionist. “That lady who just left was so pretty! Is she here to get even prettier?” The receptionist smiled, amused by me. “Oh no, sweetie! She was just here to have an old scar on her shoulder looked at.” My heart sank. I pressed on, asking the real question. “She’s so gorgeous! You see pretty people all day. Do you think… do you think she’s had any work done on her face?”

3 The receptionist paused, then chuckled. “Not a bit! That face is all natural. I agree, she’s absolutely stunning.” My heart plummeted into a black abyss. All natural. I had been clinging to the hope that this was an impostor, someone who had undergone surgery to look like my cousin. The truth hit me like a physical blow. I’d seen her clearly for that brief moment. Her hair was shorter, but there was no mistaking it. That was Sophie’s face. As I stood there, lost in thought, Ashley and Mom rushed in. Mom grabbed me and hugged me tight, still trembling. Ashley clutched her chest in relief. “Oh, you little rascal, you scared me to death! Your mom thought you’d been snatched by kidnappers. Don’t you ever run off like that again.” I lowered my head and apologized. I knew she wasn’t scared about me being kidnapped. She was terrified of what the new “Sophie” might do to me. After all, this woman was clearly out for revenge, and I was my mother’s greatest leverage. For the next few days, Mom was a nervous wreck, jumping at every shadow. Ashley, uncharacteristically, didn’t visit. The sky was a heavy, gloomy gray. I was on the phone with the private investigator I’d hired. He sent over a new batch of photos of “Sophie” and my father. They had visited the site of Dad’s car crash and were even trying to get their hands on the old surveillance footage. I frowned. What were they trying to find? After all, my mother wasn’t the one who pulled him from that smoking car. Before I could reply to the PI, there was a frantic banging on the door. I opened it to find Ashley, her face grim and devoid of its usual cheer. She stormed in and slapped a file down on the table. “Willow,” she said, her voice dangerously calm. “My kidnapping. Was that your doing?” Mom was caught completely off guard. She blinked, her voice barely a whisper. “What are you talking about?” Her hand, reaching for the file, trembled. I leaned in to look. The file contained phone records and bank transfers between my mother and the middleman who had arranged the abduction. “Ashley,” I piped up, “why are you suddenly looking into this now?” Ashley ignored me, her eyes locked on my mother. Her voice was a sharp crack. “Willow. Answer me.” The command made Mom flinch. I reached out and patted her trembling hand. Just then, the front door opened. Dad strode in, his expression cold and detached. “Funny,” he said, his voice laced with ice. “I’d like to hear the answer to that myself.” Mom’s legs gave out. She collapsed onto the sofa. I ran over and hugged Dad’s leg. “Daddy, what are you asking? Are you putting Mommy on trial? On TV, they need proof and witnesses to accuse the bad guys. Where are your witnesses?” He picked me up, his eyes devoid of warmth. “Oh? So Poppy thinks I’m wrongly accusing her mother?” I pouted. “It’s just not like how they do it on TV!” Ashley took a deep, shaky breath. “Willow, I don’t want to believe you’d do this,” she said, her voice strained. “Since Poppy brought it up, and to avoid any misunderstandings, I’ll find the witness. I pray you haven’t disappointed me.” A humorless smile touched Dad’s lips. “Bring him to the family estate tomorrow. I have another matter to discuss with Willow. We can settle everything at once.” Ashley nodded curtly and left. Dad set me down without a word and followed her out the door. My mother crumpled completely, closing her eyes in despair. I, however, quietly pocketed the few strands of long, chestnut-colored hair I had managed to pluck from my father’s shoulder. Don’t worry, Mom. I’ve got this. Later that night, the DNA report comparing the hair sample to my great-aunt’s came back. I opened it with confidence, then froze. Printed in bold, black letters were the words that made my world tilt on its axis. —BIOLOGICAL PARENT-CHILD RELATIONSHIP CONFIRMED.