Chapter 3: Fairy Tales and Failures

What is Dad talking about?

I stared at him blankly. “I didn’t...”

I wanted to reach for his hand, but I let it fall to my side, feeling more lost than ever.

Elliot set the photo frame on the table, his tone cold again. “Go back to the Grant family. You can’t be my kid. I’m not your dad.”

His words sliced through the air. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, but it wouldn’t go away.

“But Mom said you are my dad.”

I clung to those words, desperate for him to believe me. I pressed my lips together, willing myself not to cry again.

“Impossible.” He closed his eyes. “Your mom and I split up eight years ago, but you’re only six. You can only be Carter Grant’s daughter.”

He sounded tired—so tired I wondered if he ever slept. The kind of exhaustion that comes from fighting the same battle over and over.

I counted on my fingers for a long time and realized what he said seemed to make sense.

I stared at my fingers, willing them to do the math for me. But numbers never lied, even when you wished they would.

Could I really be Carter Grant’s daughter?

But Mom wouldn’t lie to me.

I shook my head hard, as if I could shake away the doubt, too.

There must be some misunderstanding.

“Daddy, you can do a DNA test with me. I really am your daughter!” I painfully plucked a small handful of hair from my head, looking at him with anticipation and nervousness.

I squeezed the hair tight, holding it out to him. My scalp tingled, but I didn’t care as long as he’d believe me.

Elliot looked at me, his brows furrowing slightly.

He hesitated for a second, then tucked the hair into a plastic bag, hands shaking just a little.

“Achoo!” I sneezed again.

My nose started to run, and I wiped it on my sleeve, hoping he didn’t notice.

Elliot looked out at the night, then down at my small, thin figure. “If you want to stay, fine, but just for tonight. Tomorrow, I’ll have the police take you home.”

He sounded stern, but I saw him soften when he looked at me. Maybe he felt sorry for me—or maybe for himself.

Great, Daddy finally isn’t kicking me out.

I tried not to show how relieved I was, but my feet bounced on the hardwood as I followed him upstairs.

Elliot went upstairs to prepare a room for me.

I tiptoed behind him, watching as he changed the pillowcases and pulled an extra blanket out of the linen closet. The room smelled faintly of dryer sheets.

I happily followed behind.

I practically skipped, peeking into every room, trying to memorize every detail.

“Daddy, what kind of person is Mom in your heart?”

I asked quietly, bracing for the answer, but hoping he’d say something good.

Elliot sneered. “Unfaithful and heartless, greedy and fake, a liar through and through.”

His words landed like stones. I didn’t understand all of them, but I knew they hurt.

Three big words—I only understood the last two.

I repeated them in my head, trying to make sense of it all. Maybe if I understood, things wouldn’t hurt so much.

“Daddy, is Mom really greedy?”

I asked in a whisper, like if I was quiet enough, maybe he’d take it back.

“...Kids shouldn’t ask so much.”

His tone softened, just a little, as if he regretted saying too much. He turned away, busying himself with fluffing the pillows.

I slowed down, feeling a little sad.

My feet dragged on the carpet, and I hugged my backpack tighter. For a moment, I wished I could be invisible.

I’d known since I was little that Mom was the villain in everyone’s story.

That was the story everyone told, at least. I knew the real Mom, the one who used to sneak me cookies and sing me lullabies when I was sick.

Because she was the bad guy, everyone disliked her.

Even when she smiled at people in the grocery store, they’d look away, pretending not to see us. Sometimes I wished we could move to a place where nobody knew our names.

Mom told me that in her original world, her name was Anna Mitchell, and she had brain cancer. Before she died, a strange program found her and asked if she wanted to cross into a novel as the villain. If she could win over the main guy, she’d get a healthy body.

She used to whisper this story to me at bedtime, when the shadows were long and the air smelled like rain. I never knew if I believed it, but I liked hearing her tell it.

Mom agreed.

She always said yes to impossible things—like second chances, or believing people could change. Maybe that’s why she said yes to the program, too.

She became Anna Rivers—the real daughter of the Rivers family who had been lost, the true fiancée of Carter Grant.

It sounded like a fairytale, but she never smiled when she told it. The photos on her dresser were always turned face down, except for the one of me.

Lily Rivers was her younger sister, the main character in this everybody-loves-her story.

Lily had shiny hair, perfect teeth, and always seemed to be surrounded by a group of giggling friends. Mom said she was the kind of person everyone wanted to be.

The daughter who’d been loved and cherished since childhood—even if not related by blood, how could they send her back to a poor family to struggle?

I tried to imagine what that would feel like: to be chosen, even when you didn’t have to be.

Mrs. Rivers cried all night and finally convinced Grandpa to let Lily stay.

Mom never knew what she’d done wrong. But as long as Lily was unhappy, she was always blamed.

No one ever let her forget it—not at family dinners, not at school fundraisers, not in the comments on her social media.

Everyone looked at her with reproach and disdain.

I remembered people whispering behind our backs in the church parking lot, or the way the cashier would purse her lips at us in the grocery store.

Though related by blood, Mom was thin and rough, lacking the poise of a privileged daughter.

She wore secondhand clothes and kept her hair tied up in a messy bun. She worked double shifts and still found time to help me with my homework.

Dad and Mom favored the main girl. Carter Grant disliked my mom too.

Even at birthday parties, I could see the difference in the way they looked at her—like she didn’t belong, like she was a stain on their perfect story.

After returning to the Rivers family, it seemed only Grandpa truly welcomed her.

He used to slip her butterscotch candies when no one was looking, and he always saved her a seat at the table, no matter how crowded it got.

Mom had been an orphan in her original world and longed for a family. Whether it was her former foster parents or the current Rivers parents, she cherished them all.

She taught me to say thank you for everything, even when people weren’t kind. She told me family wasn’t always about blood, but about who stood by you when it mattered.

No matter how hard she tried to please everyone, the story seemed unstoppable.

It was like trying to swim against the current—no matter how strong she was, she always ended up back where she started.

Mom had no choice—if she couldn’t win Carter Grant’s love, she would die.

She’d say this with a sad laugh, like she was making a joke, but her eyes always looked scared.

Later, the Grant family faced a financial crisis and was on the verge of collapse. Carter Grant chose that moment to break up with Lily. Lily cried, and under the care of the devoted second male lead, went abroad to recover.

It was the kind of drama that would’ve been right at home on a daytime soap. I never understood why grown-ups made things so complicated.

At that time, the tech company Mom started was growing rapidly, Series B funding nearly complete, but she sold it cheaply. She used that money and the inheritance Grandpa left her to buy the position of Carter Grant’s wife.

She told me she did it for me, to make sure I’d have a roof over my head. But I always wondered if she regretted it.

Though Carter was forced to marry her, his heart was always with Lily. He drowned himself in pleasure every night, obsessed with one woman after another who resembled Lily.

The house always smelled like expensive cologne and sadness. Mom used to stay up late reading in the kitchen, pretending not to hear him stumble in.

But the one most like her was still my mom.

I never told her, but sometimes I saw Carter look at her the way you look at something precious you can’t have. It made me angry for her.

Carter often kissed Mom almost maliciously, but called out Lily’s name. He even openly brought women home, making out on their marital bed. It seemed only when he saw Mom sad did the hatred in his heart find release.

I’d hide in my room, headphones on, but I could still hear the muffled arguments. I learned to fall asleep to the sound of doors slamming.

Even after I was born, he never cared.

My birthdays passed like any other day. Mom would bake a cake from a box and sing to me in the dark kitchen, just the two of us.

Mom’s reaction to all this was: Whoever wants this rotten apple can have it.

She used to tell me, "If you don’t like the hand you’re dealt, sometimes it’s better to fold." I never understood what she meant until much later.

I didn’t really understand, but I admired Mom’s attitude.

She always stood up straight, even when people tried to break her. I wished I could be that brave.

On my sixth birthday, that’s when the weird voice in her head—the one from the program—told her her time was up. She hadn’t gotten the hero to fall in love, so she’d failed the mission. The punishment? She’d disappear for good.

She explained it to me like a fairy tale gone wrong—one where the villain never gets a happy ending, no matter how hard she tries.

At the same time, the hospital’s test results came out: terminal brain cancer.

She got the call while she was making me pancakes. She tried to smile, but I saw her hands shaking.

The system gave Mom three days.

She wrote the number on a post-it and stuck it to the fridge, as if counting down would make it easier.

I still remember Mom’s expression then: confusion, disappointment, pain, and the deep sadness and reluctance when she looked at me.

She’d hug me extra tight at night, whispering that she loved me more than anything.

She didn’t choose to keep begging Carter Grant, but decided to find Dad.

She packed a bag for me, even though I didn’t want to go. She said it was better this way.

She asked Dad out many times, but he refused to see her. The messages she sent all disappeared without a reply.

I watched her stare at her phone, hope fading a little more each time.

Finally, that day.

The sidewalk was slick with last night’s rain, and Mom’s breath fogged in the cold air as she checked her phone again and again. She waited under his office building for a long time, until the daylight faded away, her life nearly at its end.

He still didn’t show up.

I waited with her in the cold, counting cars as they passed. She never let go of my hand.