Chapter 5
For two days, Gabriel‘ s harassment
didn’t stop.
I’d blocked his number, but he kept finding new ways to get through. Unknown numbers, texts, voicemails–it didn‘ t matter. The messages were relentless.
“Where are you?”
“Nadia needs blood.”
“If you don’t come back, we‘ ll pose you as a criminal.”
“You stole my money but you‘ re gonna be forgiven once you give Nadia her blood!”
I scoffed. Why can’t they find another donor? Do they really want to make me suffer? But the threats didn’t scare me. Not anymore. I’d made my choice, and nothing Gabriel said could change that. I turned my phone off completely, tossing it
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into my bag as I stood in front of the pawnshop.
The pouch in my hand felt heavier. It wasn’t just Nadia‘ s jewelry–it was her pride, her arrogance, her flaunted wealth. Pieces she had paraded in front of me for years, reminding me of how much better she was.
I pushed the door open, a small bell jingling overhead. The shop was cramped, the air thick with the scent of old wood and tarnished metal. The man behind the counter barely glanced at me until I dumped the pouch in front of him.
“Jewelry?” he asked, his tone. disinterested as he opened the bag.
His expression changed as he pulled out the first necklace, then the bracelets, the earrings. One by one, the pieces glinted under the dim lights, each one more extravagant than the last.
“How much?” I asked, crossing my arms.
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He named a figure, and I nodded without hesitation. “Take all of it.”
As he counted out the cash, something caught my eye at the bottom of the pouch. A ring.
It wasn’t just any ring. The design was unmistakable–a gold band with intricate carvings, topped with a single sapphire that gleamed like a drop of ocean water.
I froze, memories flashing through my mind.
Nadia had flaunted this ring countless times. She called it the Smith family heirloom, a priceless piece passed down for generations in her wealthy, powerful family. She used to wave it in front of me, smirking as she recounted its history, as if to remind me that I would never have
anything as valuable.
Slowly, I picked it up, holding it between my fingers. It was heavier than I expected, the cool metal pressing against my skin.
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For a moment, I considered leaving it in the pouch. Selling it, like the rest.
But something stopped me.
I slid the ring onto my finger. It felt strange, foreign–like it didn’t belong to me. But at the same time, it felt like a small, defiant victory.
The man behind the counter handed me the cash. He hesitated, glancing at the ring on my hand, but said nothing.
I didn’t explain either. I tucked the money into my bag, gave him a curt nod, and left the shop.
The airport was loud and chaotic, a constant hum of voices and
announcements echoing through the terminal. I clutched my boarding pass, my bag slung over one shoulder, and found a seat near my gate.
As I sat down, the exhaustion of the past few days hit me all at once. I leaned back, letting out a shaky breath. It wasn‘ t over
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yet, but at least I was finally escaping.
The television mounted on the wall across from me caught my attention. The words Breaking News flashed across the screen, accompanied by the familiar image of Nadia’s family crest.
My chest tightened as the reporter’s voice filled the air. “The Smith family, one of the wealthiest and most influential families in the city, has revealed shocking news following the recent accident involving Nadia Smith.”
I sat up straighter, my eyes glued to the
screen.
“Medical tests conducted after the accident have confirmed that Nadia Smith is not the biological daughter of the Smith family. Her blood type does not match her parents‘, leading to an investigation that uncovered a shocking confession from a nurse who worked at the hospital decades. ago.”
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My pulse quickened.
“The nurse admitted to switching two newborns at birth, claiming it was a
mistake she was too scared to reveal at the time. The Smith family is now searching for their biological daughter, who is described as having a distinct birthmark shaped like a heart on her back.”
The words echoed in my mind.
A birthmark shaped like a heart.
I froze, my heart pounding. I had one. A small, heart–shaped birthmark at the base of my spine, something I’d never thought twice about.
I let out a nervous laugh, shaking my head.
“No way,” I whispered to myself. The idea was ridiculous. I was Amanda–the poor girl who scraped her way through life, the girl Nadia befriended in college just to use as her personal assistant.
But as I shifted in my seat, the sapphire on my finger caught the light, glinting in a way
