All my life, I felt like an outsider in my own family. My mother adored my sisters, but when it came to me, she acted like I was nothing more than a burden. The reason? I looked too much like the man she wanted to forget. The day I discovered the truth about my real father, everything changed—but not in the way my mother expected.
They say children pay for the sins of their parents. My mother made sure that was true for me. Though she never admitted it, her actions spoke louder than words.
I grew up in a house with my two older sisters, Kira and Alexa. From the time I was little, I noticed the difference in how my mother treated us.
She showered them with love, bought them the prettiest dresses, gave them new toys, and took them out for ice cream on warm summer days. She brushed their hair gently, kissed their foreheads, and whispered how much she loved them.
And me? I got their old, worn-out clothes, their broken toys, and their leftovers at dinner. No bedtime stories, no hugs, no loving words. Instead, I got orders.
“Olivia, clean the kitchen.”
“Olivia, fold the laundry.”
“Olivia, stop standing around and do something useful!”
I wasn’t a daughter in my own home. I was a servant. And nobody cared.
The only person who tried to protect me was my father. When my mother’s words cut too deep, he would pull me into his arms and whisper, “You are special, Olivia. You matter.”
But as I grew older, even he changed. The kindness in his voice faded. He stopped defending me. And then the fights started.
“I’m telling you, she’s your daughter!” my mother screamed one night.
My father’s voice was filled with rage. “How can she be mine?! We are both brunettes, and she’s a blonde with blue eyes!”
“That happens! Maybe someone in the family had lighter features!” my mother insisted.
“Then let’s do a paternity test!” he shouted.
And just like that, the fights became routine. Every few weeks, I would hear them yelling the same words. It always ended the same way—my mother crying, accusing him of hating her, and him backing down. But I never forgot those words.
By fourteen, I couldn’t stand being home. I got a job, not just for money, but for escape. The day I got my first paycheck, I did something that would change my life forever—I bought a DNA test.
When the results arrived, everything fell apart.
One evening, I stepped through the door and found my father standing in the living room, gripping an envelope with my name on it.
His voice was sharp. “What is this? Why is this letter addressed to you?”
My stomach dropped. My hands trembled as I took a step forward. “Give it back,” I said, reaching for it.
He pulled it away, his grip tightening. “Explain first.”
I hesitated. My throat felt dry. “It’s… a DNA test.” My voice barely came out.
He didn’t wait. He ripped the envelope open and scanned the page. Then, his face twisted with fury.
“SIMONA!” he roared.
My mother rushed in. “What is it, darling?”
“Olivia, go to your room,” my father ordered.
“But—”
“NOW!” he shouted.
I turned and left, but I didn’t have to guess what the results said. My parents’ screaming voices carried through the thin walls.
“She’s not mine?!” my father shouted.
“It doesn’t matter!” my mother snapped.
“It matters to me! You lied to me for fourteen years!”
“You don’t understand! I had no choice!”
Days later, he tested my sisters. Alexa was his. Kira wasn’t. I watched from the hallway as he packed his bags.
“You’re leaving?” I whispered.
He didn’t look at me. “I have to.”
And just like that, he was gone. He divorced my mother, paid child support for Alexa, and cut ties with the rest of us.
After he left, my mother’s hatred for me grew. “This is your fault,” she hissed. “If you didn’t look so much like him, none of this would have happened.”
She ignored me unless she needed something. Kira never lifted a finger, but I did everything. I was invisible—until it was time to clean.
One day, my mother crossed her arms and said, “You will start paying rent.”
“What?” My chest tightened. “I already buy my own groceries!”
“You earn money. It’s only fair.”
I clenched my fists. “Then make Alexa and Kira pay too! Why only me? Why do you treat me like this?!”
Her eyes darkened. “Because you ruined my life!”
Her words hit me like a slap. I turned and ran to my room, slamming the door behind me.
That night, I made a promise to myself—I would get out of this house.
As soon as I finished high school, I took a job my manager’s son offered me. It wasn’t glamorous, but it paid well. With my first paychecks, I found a small apartment and moved out.
For the first time, I was free. No one barking orders at me. No one stealing my things. No one demanding money.
But my mother and sisters never stopped calling. They never asked how I was. They only wanted money. At first, I gave in, hoping it would make them leave me alone. It never did.
One day, I had enough. “I’ll give you money—if you tell me my real father’s name.”
She scoffed. “His name is Rick.” She scribbled down an address. “Go ahead. Waste your time.”
I took every penny I had saved and made the thirty-hour trip, only to find out she had lied. Again.
Furious, I stormed into her house. “You gave me the wrong address!”
She smirked. “Because he doesn’t want you.”
But this time, I didn’t back down. I forced her to give me the real address.
I knocked on Rick’s door, my heart pounding. The man who opened it stared at me in shock.
“You’re my daughter,” he said immediately.
He had known me from the second he saw me.
And for the first time, I had a real family.
I had a home. And I never looked back.
