The Daughter They Buried Twice

I once saw her interview at an orphanage.

A kid showed her a drawing, and the perfectly dressed socialite burst into tears right there.

Eyes red, she promised to spend $500,000 on art shows for the kids. She even said she'd send them abroad for college when they grew up.

Luca didn't need any of that.

He just needed someone to take him away.

To keep him alive.

The call went through fast.

"Mom, I've been kidnapped. He's going to kill me. Please come get Luca and take him home."

Silence.

Laughter burst through the phone.

My adoptive sister Vera snatched the phone and laughed so hard she could barely get the words out.

"Estelle, seriously? If you're gonna make something up, at least make it believable. You look so broke you probably don't even have fifty bucks. What kidnapper would pick you?"

She giggled.

"Mom, don't you think?"

Mom played along without missing a beat.

"Of course. You're right."

Then her voice turned cold.

"Just hang up. Ignore your sister. She was ruined long before we brought her back from the countryside. And that name—Dixie? It sounds straight out of a trailer park."

Every word hit like a knife.

I parted my lips and tasted blood.

I wanted to tell her I wasn't lying.

I wanted to tell her I wasn't ruined.

I wanted to remind her that my name wasn't Dixie.

My name was Estelle.

Estelle Emerson.

The name she had given me herself.

Vera didn't hang up.

She said she had more to say, then the party noise faded, like she'd walked away with the phone onto a balcony.

"Estelle, did you hear that? Mom and Dad don't have time for you. So stop acting pathetic for attention. Today's my birthday. I'm the only one who matters to them.

"And Tristan? He canceled a project and flew back just for me.

"So? Ready to admit you lost?"

Her voice was lazy. Smug. Like she'd already won.

But I wasn't listening.

Luca was awake.

He opened his eyes and crawled toward me, tears filling his dark eyes.

"Mommy... Luca hurts..."

My heart sank.

I reached for him.

The kidnapper yanked him away.

As he walked off, he pressed a finger to his lips.

Stay quiet.

Keep playing.

Blood flooded my mouth.

I had no idea where the strength had come from.

Still tied to the chair, I crashed onto the floor.

Pain shot through me, but I forced the words out.

Begging the person who had stolen my life.

"Vera... I give up.

"I never should've come back to this family. I never should've fought you for Mom and Dad's love. I never should've existed at all.

"But please... please take my son home.

"I'll do anything.

"I can slap myself."

Lying on the floor, I lifted my hand and hit my face with everything I had left.

Smack.

Smack.

Smack.

Tears mixed with blood.

My eyes stayed open as I wondered if I was slapping myself...

or beating the last shred of dignity out of me.

Vera.

I give up.

Vera went silent for a second.

I heard her suck in a breath.

Then she burst out laughing.

"Seriously, Estelle? I stole your parents, took your place, drove you out, and left you digging through trash. I'm that horrible, that cruel, and you're actually... actually begging me?"

Her voice dropped to a whisper.

Soft.

Poisonous.

"Estelle, you're pathetic."

The call disconnected.

I lay on the floor without moving.

Like a corpse.

After a while, the kidnapper sighed and walked over, knife in hand.

I shifted slightly, exposing my blood-soaked forehead.

Then I begged him like a stray dog.

"Give me one more chance.

"One last call."