Three Years Betrayed

When I went to register my son, Cody Vantor, for medical insurance before his first year of kindergarten, I was told I wasn’t his biological mother. "Are you sure this is your child? The system shows a different woman listed as the mother." I said nothing. I quietly snapped a photo of the unfamiliar home address, then followed it to the neighboring complex. When he saw me, my husband, Dorian Vantor, froze. His hand instinctively moved to block the doorway. "So you found out. But making a scene won’t change anything. I haven’t treated you badly these past three years." I looked past him, and my body went cold. The woman behind him was my younger sister, Summer Walsh, fresh out of college. She handed him a glass of water and gave me an apologetic smile. "Don’t blame me, Lennie. The doctor said I have postpartum depression. I can’t handle hearing a baby cry. Thank you for raising Cody for me all these years. I really am grateful." Just then, Cody, who had been waiting in the car downstairs, ran up. He rushed into Summer’s arms like it was second nature, then turned to look at me. "Aunt Lenora, don’t cry. Mommy said you’re a good person. That’s why she asked you to help. Daddy said if I behave and call you ‘Mom’ at your house, I can come back on weekends to see my real Mommy." Chapter 1 Cody Vantor curled into Summer Walsh’s arms, burying his face into her neck and rubbing against her affectionately. I had poured my heart and soul into raising him for three years, and yet Cody had never once shown me that kind of closeness. "Lenora, don’t just stand at the door. Come in and sit for a bit?" I stepped inside stiffly. Directly across the living room was a massive photo wall. Every picture on it was of Dorian Vantor and Summer, with Cody between them. A family of three. The photos were arranged neatly in chronological order, from maternity shoots to his one-month celebration, all the way to Cody’s second birthday. As the so-called mother who had raised him for three years, I didn’t have a single proper photo with him. My entire body trembled as I stared at Dorian. "Three years ago, in the delivery room… The child I gave birth to… Where is that baby?" Dorian didn’t dare meet my eyes. His Adam’s apple bobbed. His voice came out dry. "You hemorrhaged and fell into a coma for three days. When you woke up, the doctor said the baby didn’t make it… that it was gone." Summer leaned back against the couch and let out a mocking laugh. "Lennie, even if that little girl had lived, she would’ve just been a burden anyway. Not like our Cody. He’s actually worth something." Dorian’s face went pale as he snapped his head toward her. "Summer, that’s enough." I jerked my head up, locking my gaze onto him. My mind went blank. Even if she had lived? What did that mean? Summer curled her lip, completely unfazed by his anger. "It’s too cold in here. Turn the temperature up two degrees." Dorian obediently picked up the remote and did as she said. He remembered that Summer was sensitive to the cold, yet forgot that air conditioning always gave me headaches. That headache condition came from when Cody was a year old. He had a series of high fevers, and I had stayed awake for half a month straight, holding him day and night without rest. Cody reached over the coffee table and grabbed a box of chips, tearing it open. "Mom, I want this." The word "Mom" rang out bright and clear. I clenched my teeth. Dorian walked over and grabbed my wrist. "Lenora, I know this isn’t fair to you. But Cody is the only son in the family. My mom had to have a grandson. I’ll treat you even better from now on. We’ll never lack money for the rest of our lives." I yanked my hand free. My stomach churned. I gagged, stumbling toward the door and fleeing. The moment I stepped into the elevator, my phone rang. It was my mother, Maris Walsh. "Lenora, you’ve seen Summer already, haven’t you? Your sister isn’t in good health. Giving birth to Cody left her with complications." Chapter 2 "You’re the older sister. You’ve always been the sensible one. Just treat this as helping her out. Give in a little." I hung up immediately, pressing my back hard against the cold elevator wall. Even my own mother was in on it. My whole family was feeding off me. I staggered back to the small apartment. Everywhere I looked, there were traces of Cody. The height markings I had drawn for him were still on the doorframe. His toys were scattered across the couch. I gasped for breath as I tore through drawers and cabinets. I dumped out every drawer Dorian owned, scattering everything across the floor. Finally, at the bottom of a metal box hidden in the nightstand, I found Cody’s birth certificate. Mother: Summer Vantor. Father: Dorian Vantor. The birth date was eleven days earlier than my due date. Inside the box was also a property deed. Only Dorian’s name was on it. The $400,000 I had put down as a deposit and the $120,000 in premarital savings were all for nothing. I flipped the box upside down. Beneath a pile of messy receipts, a yellowed slip fell out. It was an anonymous donation receipt from Sunshine Children’s Home on the outskirts of the city. The date was a month after I gave birth. The amount: just $2,000. Dorian had never been charitable. He would curse at beggars on the street without hesitation. So why would he donate to some remote children’s home? The door lock clicked. Dorian stepped inside. His eyes flickered with panic at the mess on the floor and the birth certificate in my hand. He quickly replaced it with a gentle expression, pulling a cake box and a silk scarf from behind his back. "Lenora, don’t be mad. I got your favorite Mont Blanc cake from that French bakery and the scarf you liked but didn’t want to splurge on. "Mom’s been pressuring me. The Vantor family needs a son. "You lost too much blood back then… You won’t be able to have children anymore. Just treat Cody as your own. I swear, I’ll never divorce you." Memories of those years of trying to conceive flooded my mind. To give Dorian a child, I had suffered through everything. 99 stabilization shots. My abdomen had turned bruised and hardened, covered in knots so dense the needle could barely go in. Back then, Dorian had held my hand tightly, his eyes red, crying like a child. "Lenora, let’s stop. I can’t stand seeing you go through this. We can stay child-free forever. You’ll always come first to me." His tears had fallen onto the back of my hand, burning hot. And now, he spoke gently, while laying out a cruel calculation. My gaze froze on the cake. Inside the clear box, one corner of the cake was missing. Someone had already taken a bite. On the edge of the scarf, there was a faint smear of lipstick. My limbs turned cold. Suddenly, I remembered a post Summer had made just an hour ago. "Things I don’t want anymore always find their way to someone willing to take them off my hands." The photo showed this exact cake and scarf. Dorian had brought me her leftovers as if they were gifts. My stomach twisted violently. I grabbed the cake and scarf and hurled them at his face. "Get out. Take your mistress’s trash with you." Dorian wiped the cream off his face, his expression darkening. "Lenora, don’t push your luck." He pulled out a stack of cash from his wallet and slammed it onto the table. "This is for household expenses this month. Tomorrow is kindergarten registration. Make sure you take Cody." Then he turned and slammed the door behind him. Chapter 3 I stared at the receipt from the children’s home, my fingers digging hard into my palm. I pulled out my phone and messaged my former supervisor, Monica Crossing. "Ms. Crossing, I want to come back to work." She replied instantly: "You’re always welcome. I’ve kept your position open." At the same time, I paid to hire a private investigator. I sent him a photo of the receipt. "Help me check this children’s home’s intake records from three years ago. Focus on baby girls." Early the next morning, Dorian drove Cody back. The moment Cody walked in, he started crying loudly. "I want my real mom. I don’t want to stay here." I looked down at him. Around his neck was a new silver necklace, engraved with the words "Summer loves you". Dutifully, I took Cody to the kindergarten registration desk. It was crowded. Parents lined up in a long queue. When it was our turn, the staff checked the household registration documents and frowned. "The mother’s information doesn’t match the birth certificate. We need both biological parents present to sign." The parents behind us started whispering, pointing at me. Then, the sharp sound of high heels echoed through the hall. Summer walked in, her arm looped through Dorian’s. She was wearing a red dress. "Sorry, Miss. I’m Cody’s mother." Cody broke free from my hand and ran straight into her arms. "Mom!" Summer shot me a provocative glance, then took out a box of peanut butter cookies. "Cody, look what Mommy brought you. They're your favorite." Cody cheered and reached for it. I rushed forward and knocked the box out of his hands. "He can’t eat that. Cody has a severe peanut allergy. It could send him into shock." The cookies were scattered across the floor. Cody froze for a second, then burst into tears. "Bad Auntie! You’re just jealous Mommy bought me snacks! You’re poor!" Summer hugged him tightly and looked at me. "Lennie, I know you can’t afford good snacks, but you don’t have to smash his food out of jealousy. That’s just petty." The surrounding parents began murmuring. "His stepmom is too cruel, even denying a child snacks." Dorian walked over and shoved me aside. "Lenora, have you had enough? Summer bought this out of kindness. Why are you acting so crazy?" I staggered back, biting my lip. I took out a knitted dinosaur from my bag. I had stayed up three nights making it. It was Cody’s birthday gift. "I’m acting crazy? When Cody had an allergic reaction to peanut cookies at one year old and ended up in the ER, who stayed there for three nights?" Cody didn’t even glance at the dinosaur. He snatched it and threw it straight into a muddy puddle, stomping on it. "I don’t want your junk. I want my real mom." The dinosaur was ruined. I looked at the three of them and didn’t shed a single tear. Then I turned and walked out of the kindergarten. The moment I stepped outside, the private investigator messaged me. "Mrs. Vantor, I found something. Three years ago, Mr. Vantor secretly sent a baby girl to Sunshine Children’s Home. There’s a public donation event there today, and he’s on the invited donor list." My breath caught. I flagged down a taxi at the roadside. "Sunshine Children’s Home. Hurry." Chapter 4 Sunshine Children’s Home was bustling with noise. Colorful banners were strung across the courtyard. Dorian and Summer, presented as a model philanthropic family, stood with Cody, preparing for a media interview. I avoided the front entrance and climbed over the iron fence into the back courtyard. It was damp and cold, thick with the smell of mildew. On a set of steps in the corner, I saw a little girl no older than three. She wore thin, worn-out clothes, shivering in the wind. In her hand, she clutched half a hardened, cold chunk of bread. Her exposed arms were covered in bruises, layer upon layer of them. She shrank back and looked up. Those eyes. That face… It was exactly like my childhood photos. My limbs went weak. Just then, the private investigator’s message popped up. "Ma’am, I got the intake record from that year. The signature belongs to Dorian Vantor. The girl’s name is Quinn." I stared at the proof on my screen, then at my daughter, who was covered in wounds. Quinn was skin and bones. I clenched my fists. From the front courtyard came loud applause. Dorian and Summer stood under the spotlight, posing for photos. Cody wore a little suit, holding imported chocolates. Meanwhile, Quinn… A heavyset caretaker yanked Quinn by the hair, dragging her toward a dark storage shed. "There are important guests out front. Get lost and stay out of sight." I charged forward, kicking the caretaker aside and pulling Quinn tightly into my arms. She trembled violently, instinctively shielding her head. "Don’t hit me… Quinn will be good…" I held her tighter. Eyes burning, I rushed toward the stage in the front courtyard and threw the photo of the intake record at Dorian’s face. "Dorian, you monster! You threw my daughter into this place just to get yourself a son, and let her be abused." The crowd erupted. Cameras swung toward us instantly. Dorian’s face drained of color. He raised his hands to block the cameras, scrambling to explain. "Lenora, listen to me. Mom said girls couldn’t carry on the family name. I had no choice…" The director of the children’s home, Walter Briggs, rushed out, pointing at me and shouting, "Security! Get this crazy woman out of here. That kid doesn’t belong to anyone. She’s making things up." Several guards rushed forward, pinning my arms behind my back. To protect her image as a wealthy socialite, Summer gritted her teeth and stepped forward. She reached out and grabbed Quinn by the hair. "What nonsense are you spouting? Who knows where this stray came from? Throw her out." "Don’t touch my daughter!" I struggled desperately, but the guards forced me to the ground. In the chaos, Summer seized the moment. She shoved Quinn toward the edge of the steps. "Go to hell, brat." Quinn fell. The back of her head struck the sharp edge of a concrete planter with a dull crack. Blood poured out, staining the water pooled on the ground. Her eyes fluttered open weakly. She looked at me, pinned on the ground. Her lips moved slightly. "Mom… it hurts…" While her small hand fell limp, her eyes closed. Dorian’s legs gave out. He dropped to his knees. Summer let out a cold laugh. "If she’s dead, she’s dead. We’ll just pay for it." The cameras kept flashing. No one stepped forward to save my daughter. I crawled toward her, blood rising in my throat. "Quinn! Someone help her!"