I walk back through the hallways, my mind racing, the weight of everything sinking deeper with each step. The mill feels colder now, empty in a way it never has before. Every part of it, from the humming machines to the scattered fabric scraps, is infused with the knowledge that my mother has been hiding secrets—secrets that I’ve only begun to uncover.

I slip my phone out of my pocket and press Louisa’s number. I need her. I need to know what I can do, what legal grounds we have to stop them. The sale is almost finalized, but I can still feel the sting of betrayal cutting deep, deeper than the raw calluses on my hands from the mill.

“Hello?” Louisa’s voice breaks the silence on the other end of the line.

“It’s Jade,” I say, my voice hoarse. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “They’re selling the mill. I need your help. It’s not just a sale—it’s worse than I thought.”

“I knew you’d find out sooner or later,” Louisa says with a sigh. “I’ve had my suspicions about them for years, but without concrete proof, there wasn’t much I could do. Tell me everything.”

I recount the conversation from the office—how Mother dismissed me, how she told me my name wasn’t on anything of consequence, how they’ve been hiding everything for so long. Louisa listens carefully, and when I finish, there’s a long silence on the other end.

“Jade,” she finally says, her voice measured and calm, “I need you to trust me. What your mother’s done is not only illegal, it’s also a violation of your great aunt Greta’s will. We can fight this, but we have to act fast.”

I hold my breath. “What do we need to do?”

“We need to prove your original identity. We need to find your birth certificate and any documents that link you to your true name—Janine Pearson. If we can prove that, everything changes. You’re the rightful heir.”

“But what about the sale?” I ask, a tremor in my voice. “They’re finalizing everything next week.”

“We’ll stop the sale, Jade. But we can’t wait. You have to get to the attic. You have to find that birth certificate.”

“I already looked,” I protest. “It’s not there. I think they’ve hidden it.”

“You’re right. They probably have. But the attic is full of documents, and they’ve been hiding things for years. If it’s not there, there might be something else. Something that links you to Greta’s legacy.”

I feel the urgency in Louisa’s words. “I’ll go right now,” I say, determination creeping into my voice.

“Be careful,” Louisa warns. “They’ve been watching you. If they realize you’re on to them, they’ll destroy whatever they can find. Don’t let them know you’re looking.”

“I won’t,” I promise, slipping my phone back into my pocket. “Thanks, Louisa.”

The house feels colder as I make my way to the attic. The stairs creak beneath my feet, the air thick with dust and forgotten memories. I push open the door, the hinges groaning in protest. The flashlight in my hand casts eerie shadows across old boxes and piles of yellowed papers. It smells of mildew and age—just like the secrets they’ve tried to bury.

I sift through the boxes, my heart pounding in my chest. My fingers brush against old ledgers, receipts for long-forgotten machinery, and faded photographs. I pull out a photo of Lacy and me as children—Lacy in a pristine party dress, me in overalls stained with machine oil. Even then, the difference between us was clear.

My fingers tremble as I shift through the papers. A sharp edge catches my skin, and I wince, a bead of blood welling up. The paper bites, brittle and eager to tear. But I push through the pain, determined to find the truth.

Then, I feel it—a cold weight in the pit of my stomach. A file, hidden beneath other documents. I pull it out, carefully flipping through the contents. My heart skips a beat when I find it—the birth certificate I thought was lost. My real birth certificate, not Jade Sherman, but Janine Pearson.

The shock hits me like a wave, and for a moment, I can’t breathe. This is it. This is the key to everything. They can’t erase me now.

I tuck the birth certificate into my jacket, standing up and taking one last look at the attic. This room holds the truth, the proof of what they’ve been hiding all these years.

But my victory is short-lived.

I hear footsteps on the stairs.

My heart races as I turn to face the door. The faint sound of heels clicking against the floorboards grows louder. I know it’s her. Mother. She knows. She must know I’ve found something.

I slip out of the attic, closing the door softly behind me. The hallway is eerily quiet, but the tension in the air is palpable. I press myself against the wall, holding my breath, praying she doesn’t see me.

But I can’t hide forever.

I need to get out of here. I need to get the birth certificate to Louisa before it’s too late.

The house is too quiet. The shadows stretch long and foreboding as I hurry down the stairs, but just as I reach the bottom, the door slams open behind me.

I freeze.

“Jade,” Mother’s voice cuts through the silence, sharp and venomous. “I think we need to talk.”

 

I turn slowly, my heart hammering in my chest, my breath shallow. The birth certificate feels like a weight in my pocket, pressing against me, reminding me of everything I’ve just uncovered. I can’t let her take it from me. Not now. Not when I’m so close.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Mother’s voice is icy, like the tip of an icicle ready to break. Her eyes narrow as they scan me, searching for any sign of what I’ve found.

I straighten up, trying to maintain a calm exterior. “I think we need to talk too,” I reply, my voice steady, though every nerve in my body is on high alert.

Mother steps closer, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor like a ticking clock. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that, Jade,” she says with a sly smile. “You’ve made quite a mess of things.”

I clench my fists at my sides, trying to steady myself. “I know about the adoption,” I say, voice cold. “I know you changed my name. And I know why. You wanted to erase me.”

Her smile falters for just a moment before it returns, a thin, dangerous thing. “You always were so clever, Jade. But that’s the past. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“It matters,” I snap. “It matters because you lied to me. You stole my birthright. You hid everything from me—my name, my legacy, my future. You thought you could make me disappear, but you were wrong.”

Mother’s eyes flash, her composure slipping for a brief second. “You’re out of your depth, Jade. You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”

“I know exactly what I’m dealing with,” I say, holding her gaze. “You’re trying to sell everything, to destroy everything, because you can’t let go of control. But the truth is, it was never yours to control. You never had the right.”

Her lips curl into a sneer. “You’re wrong. Your great aunt was a fool. She thought she could leave everything to someone who didn’t even belong to this family. You’re not Pearson blood. You never were.”

“I’m Pearson blood,” I say, my voice rising with fury. “And I always have been. Greta made sure of that. You think you can just rewrite the past, but the truth always comes out. I am Janine Pearson. Your lies have been exposed.”

I can see the shift in her, the tightening of her jaw, the flicker of panic in her eyes. She doesn’t want to acknowledge it, but she knows the truth now.

“You have no proof,” she spits, her words sharp as daggers. “You think you can use that birth certificate to stop me? It’s just a piece of paper.”

I pull the document from my pocket and hold it up, the words on the paper flashing in the dim light of the hallway. “This is the proof. And Louisa already knows about it. She’s preparing to stop the sale. This ends now.”

Mother’s face twists in disbelief, her eyes wild. “You think Louisa will help you? She’ll betray you just like everyone else. You have no allies left. You’re nothing without me.”

“Wrong,” I say, stepping forward, my voice growing stronger. “I’m not nothing. I’m Janine Pearson, and this mill is mine.”

Mother’s hands tremble slightly, her perfect facade cracking. “You don’t understand. I did what I had to do. To protect you. To protect the family. You were never meant to inherit this place.”

“You never wanted me to inherit it because you knew I would see through your lies,” I counter. “You never wanted me to be strong enough to stand up to you.”

I take another step forward, watching her carefully. There’s fear in her eyes now, hidden beneath the anger. She’s losing control.

She’s afraid.

The silence hangs thick in the air, heavy with the weight of everything we’ve both said. And then, like a broken dam, Mother finally lets out a sharp, bitter laugh, a sound that feels more like a scream than a chuckle.

“You think you’ve won?” she sneers. “I can ruin you, Jade. I can make sure you never step foot in this mill again. I can destroy everything you’ve worked for. You think you have power? You don’t. You’ll never have it. Not while I’m here.”

I stand my ground. “You’re wrong. You’ve already lost. I don’t need to fight dirty like you do. I just need to show the truth. And the truth is that this mill is mine. Greta made sure of it.”

“You won’t get away with this,” Mother hisses, her voice low and dangerous. “You think Louisa can protect you? She’s as much a part of this as I am. She’ll turn on you.”

I shake my head slowly, trying to keep my anger in check. “Louisa will help me because she knows the truth. She’s been our lawyer for years, and she’s already filed the necessary papers to stop the sale. It’s over, Mother. This ends now.”

She doesn’t respond, just stands there glaring at me, her hands shaking at her sides. The fight seems to drain from her as the reality sinks in. She knows I have her cornered.

“This isn’t over,” she mutters, her voice quieter now. “You don’t know who you’re up against.”

“I know exactly who I’m up against,” I reply. “The difference is, I’m not afraid of you anymore.”

I turn to leave, my hands clenched around the birth certificate in my pocket. I can feel the weight of everything shifting, the pieces falling into place. This is what I was meant to do. This mill, this legacy, it’s all mine now.

As I walk away, I hear her voice one last time, weak and desperate. “You’ll regret this.”

But I don’t look back. The world outside is waiting for me, and it’s mine to take.

 

I walk out of the house, leaving the tension and the suffocating presence of my mother behind. The cool night air hits my face, but it doesn’t feel as cold as it should. There’s warmth in the weight of the truth I now carry. The birth certificate in my pocket is no longer just a piece of paper; it’s the key to everything that was always meant to be mine.

The mill hums in the distance, its lights flickering on as the night shift starts. It’s a quiet, reassuring sound, like a heartbeat that never stops. I keep walking, heading toward the one place I can always count on—the place that’s been in my blood since the day I was born. The place that’s now mine, no matter what anyone says.

I reach the front door, the key card still heavy in my hand. But I don’t need it anymore. Not now. I slip the card into my pocket and unlock the door with the real key—the one I’ve just claimed for myself. The door opens with a soft click, and I step inside.

The scent of cotton fills the air, familiar and warm. The machines are still running, their rhythmic hum almost like a lullaby. There’s something comforting about the steady sound, something that feels like home. It’s the heartbeat of the mill, and it beats for me now.

The office is just as I left it, untouched, but I know everything has changed. I can feel it in my bones. I walk past the desk, not even glancing at the contracts and papers scattered there. I know what they say. It doesn’t matter anymore.

I head straight for the production floor. The workers are busy, focused on their tasks, unaware of the storm that’s just passed. But I know what’s coming. Louisa’s already filed the injunction, and it’s only a matter of time before everything unravels.

The machines continue their endless cycle, churning out thread after thread. There’s a certain beauty in it, a rhythm that’s been established over decades, maybe even centuries. I watch the spools of yarn being wound onto shelves, the soft hum of the machinery wrapping around me like a protective cocoon.

I’m not just the owner now. I’m the heir. The one who was always meant to take over. I can almost feel the weight of Great Aunt Greta’s legacy resting on my shoulders. She saw something in me. Something my mother could never see.

I walk over to one of the spinning machines, running my fingers along the smooth surface. The texture of the yarn under my fingertips is familiar, comforting. It’s been a part of me since I was a child. And now, it’s mine to shape.

I pull out the Valentine’s card I found earlier, its message clear now. “Never forget who you are.”

It’s not who they made me. It’s who I always was. Janine Pearson.

I slip the card into the pocket of my jacket, a symbol of everything that’s been hidden, everything that’s been stolen from me. But now, I’ve claimed it all.

The mill is mine. The legacy is mine. And no one can take that from me.

The door to the office opens, and Sydney walks in. She’s carrying a small box, dust puffing up as she sets it down on the desk. She looks at me with a mixture of concern and relief.

“Congratulations, boss,” she says with a wink. “The real one this time.”

I smile back, feeling the weight of her words sink in. “Thanks, Sydney. We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us.”

“I know you’ll make it work,” she says with a nod. “You’ve always known this place better than anyone.”

I walk back out onto the production floor, feeling the hum of the machines beneath my feet. The steady rhythm is comforting now, like a promise.

I glance at the clock on the wall. It’s almost midnight. I reach for my phone, but it buzzes before I can.

It’s a message from Louisa. “We’re filing the injunction tomorrow. The sale is stopped. It’s done.”

I let out a long breath, feeling a sense of finality wash over me. It’s over. The battle is won. The mill is saved. My inheritance is intact.

The machines continue to hum, spinning the yarn, weaving the fabric of a new future.

My future.

I stand there for a moment, letting it all sink in. The years of struggle, the lies, the betrayal—all of it has led to this moment. I’ve claimed what was always mine. And now, the world will know who I am.

I am Janine Pearson.

And I will make this mill thrive.

The machines hum in the background, and the yarn continues to spin. It’s only just beginning.

The End!