My cousin secretly gave birth to a daughter and then switched her baby with mine. I knew all along, yet I raised her daughter in luxury, treating her as if she were the most precious jewel in the world. Years later, that daughter became the Crown Princess, soaring to unimaginable heights of power and prestige. On the day of the royal wedding, my cousin arrived at the palace gates, dragging along my real daughter—who had long been sold into a life of misery as a courtesan in a seedy brothel. With a smug, triumphant sneer, my cousin declared, “I am the true mother of the Crown Princess, while you’re nothing but the lowly birth mother of this girl. Don’t even think of claiming what isn’t yours!” I had been waiting for this moment for years. Without a flicker of surprise or anger, I smiled graciously and nodded. “Then let’s switch them back,” I said calmly. “Dear cousin, I’ve tailored two dresses myself. Hurry and bring Kara out to try them on.” It was the first day of spring, and my cousin Nora showed up at my home uninvited. She waltzed in as if she owned the place, making herself comfortable in my sitting room without so much as an invitation. She wasted no time calling for my daughter, Kara, as though she had every right to summon her. But I knew why she acted so boldly. She wasn’t just here for a casual visit—she was here for her daughter. Kara, the cherished young lady of my household, was not my biological daughter. Sixteen years ago, Nora, who had been staying at my home, secretly gave birth to an illegitimate child after an affair with a man she refused to name. To cover her shame, she switched her baby with mine. The wet nurse who witnessed the swap immediately came to me with the truth. But instead of exposing Nora’s treachery, I gave the nurse a generous sum of silver and sent her off to live out her days in peace. I kept the secret to myself, biding my time. Now, here Nora was, playing the role of a doting cousin, dragging along a lame servant girl named Skylar. Nora claimed Skylar had been raised by her since childhood, but one look at the girl’s face told me the truth. Skylar’s features mirrored my own—she was the child Nora had stolen from me. Within moments, Kara came fluttering into the room like a butterfly, dressed in the new gown Nora had brought for her. “Mother, look, look! Isn’t it beautiful? I love this dress so much!” Kara exclaimed, twirling in delight as she ran to my side, her voice full of laughter. But Nora wasn’t satisfied. She reached out and grabbed Kara’s arm, gently pulling her toward her. “Oh my, Kara, you truly are stunning,” Nora said, her voice dripping with faux affection. “This dress suits you so much better than anything your mother has ever given you,” she added, shooting me a smug glance. Then, with a sly smile, she leaned closer to Kara and asked, “Kara, wouldn’t you like to call me your mother instead?” Kara, still a child at heart, giggled innocently and replied, “No way! My mother isn’t you!” Her playful response was like a dagger to Nora’s pride. The room’s lighthearted atmosphere abruptly shattered with a sharp, resounding “SMACK.” Nora had raised her hand and slapped Skylar across the face without warning. The poor girl staggered from the blow, her cheek swelling almost instantly. Tears welled in her eyes, but she bit them back, dropped to her knees, and begged for mercy. Nora smiled coldly and turned to us as if nothing had happened. “This wretched girl doesn’t know her place. I caught her staring at Kara’s dress, and I had to teach her a lesson before she starts getting ideas.” Skylar’s tears fell silently, dripping onto the floor. All she had done was glance at Kara’s gown, a fleeting look of admiration that had earned her a brutal slap. The injustice of her life was plain to see. Among all the maids and servants in my household, Skylar was treated as the lowest of the low. Nora gave her nothing but scraps to eat, scraps so foul even beggars would turn their noses up at them. Her clothes and shoes were tattered hand-me-downs, and whenever Nora was in a bad mood, Skylar bore the brunt of her anger, enduring beatings that left her bruised and battered. Now, with her true nature revealed, Nora’s cruel temper frightened Kara. My daughter clung to my side, her earlier excitement replaced with unease. Seeing Kara lean into me only fueled Nora’s jealousy. Her resentment flared, and her malice erupted in full force. She pulled a silver hairpin from her head, its sharp end glinting in the light, and without hesitation, drove it into Skylar’s crippled leg. “You worthless brat!” Nora hissed through gritted teeth. “You dare humiliate me in front of my cousin? You’ve been nothing but a disgrace since the day you were born!”
Blood gushed out in rivulets, but Nora didn’t care. Instead, she drove the hairpin deeper into Skylar’s thigh, twisting it cruelly. “That’s what you get for disobeying me, you worthless little wretch!” she spat, her voice full of venom. Skylar lay motionless on the floor, silent tears streaming down her face. She seemed completely numb to the pain, as if she’d long since grown used to Nora’s abuse. Her leg, already crippled, had likely lost all feeling—making it an easy target for Nora’s sadistic outbursts. The other servants stood around watching, their faces blank, as though this was just another performance for their entertainment. Kara and I were no strangers to Nora’s violent tantrums, but my husband, Brandon, walked into the room mid-scene and froze, his expression a mix of shock and disbelief. “What’s going on here? Cousin, why are you punishing a servant in front of my wife?” At the sight of Brandon, Nora’s demeanor changed instantly. The wild, vicious expression vanished, replaced by a damsel-in-distress act. She stood up slowly, tucking the bloodied hairpin into her sleeve with practiced ease. “Brother-in-law,” she said, her voice suddenly soft and trembling, “this little maid dared to have impure thoughts about my dear cousin. I had no choice but to discipline her in front of my elder sister.” Her eyes darted between Brandon and me, as if trying to shift the blame onto me, implying I had demanded the punishment. Brandon frowned, clearly uneasy. He glanced at me, his disapproval evident, then turned back to Nora. “Skylar is just a young girl, about the same age as Kara,” he said. “There’s no need to be so harsh. Please, let her go.” Kara, ever the innocent and straightforward child, couldn’t stand to hear Nora twist the truth. She pointed a finger at Nora and shouted, “It wasn’t my mother! It was her! She slapped Skylar for no reason!” The more Kara defended me, the darker Nora’s expression became. Her eyes burned with jealousy and resentment as she glared at me. I smiled back at her, almost daring her to lose her composure. Then, with deliberate calm, I waved the matter aside. “It’s just a servant,” I said lightly, “no need to let something so trivial disturb the harmony of our family.” Brandon clearly wasn’t satisfied with my response, but he respected my position as the lady of the household too much to argue. Instead, he ordered the maids to take Skylar away and tend to her injuries. But Nora wasn’t about to let Skylar out of her grasp so easily. With a sweet, fake smile, she said, “Oh, there’s no need to trouble anyone. Skylar is my servant, and I’ll take responsibility for her care.” Before anyone could object, Nora yanked Skylar up by her arm, forcing the injured girl to stand on her damaged leg, and dragged her toward the door. Kara, ever soft-hearted, couldn’t bear to see Skylar in such a pitiful state. She tugged on my sleeve and looked up at me with pleading eyes. “Mother, can I send Skylar some medicine? She’s hurt so badly!” Sixteen years of raising Kara had taught me to read her thoughts as easily as an open book. With a faint smile, I nodded. “Go ahead,” I said. “And take the golden ointment from my cabinet. It’ll help her wounds heal faster.” Kara’s face lit up, and she dashed off eagerly, the kindhearted girl that I’d raised. Brandon, meanwhile, wasn’t quite done chastising me, but before he could get another word out, Kara returned, her expression crestfallen. “What happened?” I asked. Kara’s hands were empty, and there was no sign of the golden ointment. She lowered her head, her voice quiet and filled with frustration. “Mother,” she muttered, “Aunt Nora wouldn’t let me give Skylar the medicine… She said it might get my new dress dirty.” “And the ointment?” Kara hesitated, her face twisting with anger. “She threw it away,” she said finally. “She said Skylar is just a worthless servant and doesn’t deserve something so nice.”
Nora’s hostility toward me was always subtle but unmistakable, woven into the smallest details of her behavior. And yet, she played her part so convincingly that my husband, Brandon, never seemed to notice. In fact, Brandon often spoke highly of her in my presence. “A woman’s reputation is her most fragile possession,” he’d say. After today’s incident, with blood spilled and tempers flaring, he worried that rumors might spread from my household, tarnishing Nora’s name. “She’s an unmarried woman, after all,” he added. “If people start talking, she might feel compelled to throw herself into the river just to prove her innocence.” By the end of his little speech, Brandon even suggested that I bring her a small gift to smooth things over. I couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity. But I went anyway. I was curious to see what new tricks Nora had up her sleeve—and what fresh misery she’d devised for Skylar. Nora’s quarters were always eerily quiet, save for the faint sounds of Skylar’s muffled sobs and the occasional sharp crack of a whip. But today, the courtyard was silent. Too silent. When I entered, Nora was alone, sitting in front of her mirror, leisurely fixing her hair. A gleaming silver hairpin—a new addition—sparkled atop her head. I glanced around, but the timid, battered maid who usually hovered in the shadows was nowhere to be seen. “Skylar? Where is she?” I asked casually. Nora didn’t even bother to turn around. “Oh, her?” she said with a smirk, running the comb through her hair. “After what she did yesterday—humiliating both you and Kara in front of everyone—I sold her off to a brothel.” She paused, then plucked the silver hairpin from her hair and held it up for me to admire. “This? Bought it with the money I got for her.” Her words were laced with malice, her eyes gleaming as she glanced at me, waiting for my reaction. “And tonight,” she added with a cruel laugh, “they’ll be auctioning off her virginity. I wonder what kind of man will claim her…” Her voice trailed off, her smile venomous. She was watching me closely, no doubt hoping to see some flicker of anger or pain. After all, she knew the truth—Skylar was my daughter. But I smiled back at her, calm as ever. “Well,” I said lightly, “she’s just a lowly servant. Whoever ends up with her will be doing her a favor.” My indifference clearly threw her off. Nora’s smirk faltered, disappointment flickering across her face. But then something dawned on her, and her expression shifted to one of panic. Kara hadn’t come with me. Her voice wavered as she asked, “Where’s Kara?” She stood abruptly, her composure cracking. “What have you done with Kara? Where is she?”
Most days, Nora stuck to Kara like glue, hovering over her like an overzealous nanny. She was terrified Kara might get into trouble, behave improperly, or—God forbid—fall for some no-good man. After all, Kara was the high-born daughter of the family, and Nora had switched daughters years ago with the sole intention of ensuring her child would rise to greatness. So when Kara was nowhere to be found, Nora’s panic was palpable, as if I might have spirited her precious daughter away to harm her in secret. I couldn’t be bothered to argue. “Kara was selected by the Queen Mother to marry the Crown Prince. Right now, she’s at the palace, being taught court etiquette by the royal governess.” “What? Kara is going to be the Crown Princess?!” Nora nearly leapt out of her chair, her hairbrush clattering to the vanity. I struggled to suppress my laughter as I watched her comical reaction. Seeing that I didn’t respond further, she quickly composed herself. Her anger melted into barely contained excitement as her eyes gleamed with ambition. “My dear cousin,” she said sweetly, “Kara is really going to be the Crown Princess? Can I go see how she’s doing with her lessons?” I raised a brow, feigning indifference, though I was a bit surprised. For someone whose daughter was about to ascend to unimaginable power, Nora was certainly playing it cool—for now. “Would I lie to you?” I said, smiling faintly. “Yes, Kara is going to be the Crown Princess. And if you want to see her, you’re welcome to visit anytime.” Nora didn’t need a second invitation. She abandoned her makeup, grabbed her coat, and rushed out the door to the palace. Once there, she wasted no time ingratiating herself, staring intently at the royal governess as if trying to burn every detail of Kara’s lessons into her memory. The governess, sensing something off, finally turned to Nora and asked, “Is there something you need, ma’am?” With a self-satisfied smile, Nora replied, “Oh, no, I’m just here to thank you. Please take good care of Kara. I raised her myself, you know. She’s like my own flesh and blood, and I know she’ll make a fine Crown Princess.” The governess snorted, giving Nora a scornful look. “I thought for a moment you were her real mother. But now I see you’re just another busybody. And who are you, anyway? Some old maid pushing thirty and still unmarried? What right do you have to speak here?” Nora’s face darkened instantly, her temper flaring. “How dare you insult me, you miserable servant! You’ll regret this!” But the governess was unimpressed. Rolling her eyes, she shot back, “Regret what? You’re just her cousin, pretending to be someone important. I have nothing to fear from you.” When it was time to bring Kara home, Nora clung to her hand like a long-lost mother, tears glistening in her eyes. “Kara, I heard you’re marrying the Crown Prince next month,” she said dramatically, “and I have something equally important to announce. Let’s make it a double celebration!” Kara, oblivious to the undercurrent of meaning, politely pulled her hand away. “Thank you, Aunt Nora. I’ll look forward to hearing your news,” she said, her tone distant but polite. I stood back, silently amused. Nora was barely holding back her big “reveal.” I almost hoped her grand announcement wouldn’t turn out to be a complete disaster. Almost. The day of the royal wedding finally arrived. It was a grand occasion, celebrated throughout the kingdom. The palace was packed with visitors—nobles, officials, foreign dignitaries, and emissaries from neighboring countries. Amid the splendor and joy of the event, Nora made her entrance. And, as expected, she didn’t come alone. Trailing behind her was a woman so disheveled and broken she barely looked human. She was dressed in tattered clothes, her face hollow and bruised, her steps unsteady. It didn’t take long for the whispers to spread through the crowd. The room fell silent as Nora paraded through, the spectacle impossible to ignore. Her intentions were clear: she wasn’t here to celebrate. She was here to cause a scene. Stopping in front of me, Nora raised her voice for all to hear. “Dear cousin,” she said with mock regret, “I hate to ruin such a joyous occasion, but I simply couldn’t hold this in any longer.” She gestured to the broken woman beside her. “This woman here… is your daughter—a common prostitute from the streets. And the Crown Princess? She’s my daughter, my flesh and blood. We’ve been separated for so many years, but today, it’s time to set things right. You ought to return her to me.”
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