A garage sale revealed the lie I’d lived with for five years. Among the items, I found the pink blanket I had knitted for my daughter, Daisy—believed to have died at birth and buried with it. Confronting my husband, Aaron, and his mother, Margaret, exposed the truth: Daisy hadn’t died. Margaret had conspired with Aaron and a doctor to fake her death, giving her to Aaron’s sister, Ellen, who couldn’t have children.
The betrayal shattered me, but Ellen eventually admitted the scheme, agreeing Daisy—now Lily—deserved to know the truth. I left Aaron, ensuring Margaret and the doctor faced legal consequences. Slowly, I’m rebuilding my relationship with Lily, determined never to lose her again.
