Their Forgotten Daughter

Chapter 2

The autopsy report hit the conference table like a grenade, sucking all the warmth from the room.

My face was unrecognizable—smashed beyond identification. The abandoned construction site wasn’t even the primary crime scene, complicating everything.

Nathan Black, my father, took command with razor-sharp precision. “Fan out and comb the dump site perimeter. I want every anomaly documented. Rush the DNA to the lab. And re-examine the body—full workup.”

With a curt nod, he strode out, leaving my mother to oversee the details. The irony wasn’t lost on me—they were pouring more resources into solving my murder than they’d ever invested in me alive.

A memory surfaced: Mom smoothing Isabella’s glossy hair with that same clinical tenderness. “Giving victims a voice is sacred work,” she’d murmured, pride thick in her tone. Isabella had flashed a porcelain smile—the perfect daughter—then flicked her hair over her shoulder the second Mom turned away, as if shaking off a chore.

I’d slapped her for that. Dad had retaliated by shearing my head bald. “No hair for those who lack basic decency,” he’d declared.

Now, Mom’s gloved fingers grazed the matted remnants of my scalp, her voice uncharacteristically soft. “To end like this… her family must be shattered.”

A hollow laugh bubbled up inside me. Shattered? More like relieved. Maybe Daniel would blink back a tear, but the rest? They’d erase me from their lives before my body was cold.

Her thumb brushed the old burns striping my back—souvenirs from my abduction. When I’d been recovered, Mom had recoiled at the sight.

“What is that?” she’d hissed, jerking away like I was contagious. “Disgusting. Keep it covered—you’ll give Isabella nightmares.”

I held my breath as she traced the scars now. Would she remember?

She didn’t. “These predate the assault,” she muttered, already moving on.

Of course.

“Doctor!” An assistant’s voice sliced through the morgue’s chill. “Stomach contents—there’s something here.”

Mom’s focus snapped to the partially digested scrap of paper she tweezed out. “Acid damage is significant. Send it to trace. Let’s see if they can salvage anything.”

Then—Isabella’s ringtone. A sugary pop anthem.

Mom ripped off her gloves and bolted into the hall, voice honeyed. “Sweetheart? Everything okay? Mommy’s elbows-deep in work.”

Isabella’s chirp could’ve chipped ice. “The tournament’s tomorrow! You have to come. I’ll choke without you there!”

A beat. Then, firm: “We’ll be front row. Dad’s clearing his schedule. Daniel’s in Dubai, but we’ll record it for him.”

“Love youuu!” A giggle. “Wish Evelyn would show. I’d destroy the competition with her watching.” A theatrical sigh. “But I get it. She’s always been… jealous. I mean, let’s face it—I’ve always been your favorite.”

My phantom stomach twisted. Here it came.

Mom’s voice turned arctic. “Isabella, you’re our miracle. Evelyn? A thief. A liar. A stain on this family. She doesn’t deserve the Carter name.”

I tried to tune it out. Failed.

“Relax, baby. Even if I have to drag Evelyn there in a body cast, she will watch you win.”

Isabella’s tinkling laugh echoed. “Dad texted me to ‘stay vigilant.’ Mom… maybe remind Evelyn too?”

A derisive snort. “You focus on staying safe. As for Evelyn?” A pause. “If she winds up in a ditch somewhere, consider it the universe tidying up.”

Casual. Like discussing trash pickup. The numbness was almost comforting—it crystallized the truth. I’d been erased long before my death.

They’d never even bothered changing my surname after the adoption. Isabella was their blood in everything but biology.

As they agonized over her safety, my existence didn’t merit a footnote.

But if they ever discovered the truth—that their golden child had orchestrated my murder, that their blind adoration had paved the way—would that guilt finally crack their perfect façade?