I always felt like an outsider in my own family. My mother adored my sisters, Kira and Alexa, but treated me like a burden. I looked too much like the man she wanted to forget. Unlike my sisters, who got love and gifts, I got hand-me-downs and chores.

My father tried to protect me, but as I grew older, his kindness faded. The fights between him and my mother became routine. When I was fourteen, I took a DNA test. My father found the results first.

“SIMONA!” he roared, confronting my mother. The truth unraveled: I wasn’t his daughter. My mother had cheated. Days later, he left, cutting ties with me.

My mother blamed me. “If you didn’t look like him, none of this would’ve happened,” she hissed. I paid rent while my sisters did nothing. When I finally escaped, she and my sisters only reached out for money.

One day, I demanded my real father’s name. She lied at first, but I persisted. I found Rick, and the moment he saw me, he knew. “You’re my daughter,” he said. He had always wanted me. My mother had kept us apart.

Rick welcomed me into his family and even gave me a house. But when my mother and Kira got evicted, they moved in without asking. When I demanded they leave, my mother threatened to sue. I called the police, and they fled.

That was the last time I saw them. I changed the locks, blocked their numbers, and, for the first time, felt truly free.