Real Daughter's Revenge novel Chapter 7

The day before my birthday, a package arrived for me.

It was my MIT class schedule and dorm assignment, sent ahead of time.

I’d requested an early move–in, so I could settle in next week.

Perfect–one less reason to stay in this house and be an eyesore.

That evening, the Fraser’s residence filled up with relatives who’d come for tomorrow’s birthday party.

Everyone fussed over Lena, showering her with compliments about her looks and her manners.

No one paid any attention to me, tucked away in the corner.

Until an elderly woman walked over. “You must be Jessie?”

I looked up. It was Nolan’s mother, my grandmother, Claire Fraser.

“Grandma.” I stood to greet her.

She looked me up and down, her gaze critical. “You certainly look like a Fraser.‘

Just “look like a Fraser“-not saying I was one.

The wording was subtle, but I caught it.

“I heard you had it rough out there?”

“It wasn’t so bad.”

“1

“Not so bad?” She snorted. “I’ve heard all about your adoptive parents. Kids raised in that kind of environment, what good can come of them?”

I met her eyes calmly. “You’re right, Grandma, I haven’t amounted to much.”

She hesitated, probably not expecting me to agree so easily.

“Unlike Lenny,” I went on, “who’s been spoiled since birth, piano and dance lessons, the works. Oh, by the way, which college did she get into?”

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Claire’s expression changed.

Lena had only gotten into a second–tier university–a disgrace for this family.

“I may not be much, but I got lucky and got into MIT.

“Massachusetts Institute of Technology–one of the top universities in the country. You’ve heard of it, right?”

Claire’s face twisted with anger. “You-”

“Don’t be upset, Grandma,” Lena appeared at just the right moment, taking Claire’s arm. “Jessie didn’t mean it.”

“Lenny’s always so considerate.”

Claire patted her hand, shot me a glare, and walked away.

Lena turned to me. “Jessie, why did you have to upset Grandma?”

“I was just telling the truth.”

“But-”

“Lenny,” I interrupted, “aren’t you tired?”

“What?”

“Pretending to be the perfect daughter for 18 years–doesn’t it exhaust you?” I leaned in close. “I know exactly who you are.”

Her face faltered. “Jessie, I don’t know what you mean.”

“It’s better if you don’t,” I said, turning to leave.

On the day of the birthday, the Fraser’s residence was decked out in lights and decorations.

Early in the morning, makeup artists and stylists arrived, all circling Lena.

I stayed in my room, packing up, getting ready to move to campus.

Rhonda knocked and came in. “Jessie, aren’t you going to get ready?”

“For what?”

“Today’s the birthday party.”

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I looked up at her. “I thought I wasn’t invited to attend?”

“It’s not that you can’t… It’s just…” She looked uncomfortable. “You can watch from upstairs. If you get hungry, come down and grab something to cat.”

Oh, so I was supposed to hide upstairs, out of sight from the guests.

“I understand.”

Rhonda looked relieved and turned to leave.

“Mom.” I called after her, “have you ever thought–if there hadn’t been that mix–up years ago, the one in the dress getting all the blessings today would be me?”

She froze.

“And Lenny would be in some small town, worrying about how to pay for college.”

“Jessie…”

“I’m not trying to steal her birthday,” I smiled, “I just want you to know–fate works in mysterious ways.”

Rhonda hurried out, almost fleeing.

By seven that evening, the guests had started to arrive.

I stood by the third–floor window, watching the endless parade of cars below.

All the big names in Boston were here.

Lena, dressed in a custom gown, accepted everyone’s blessings like a princess.

Nolan gave a speech, calling her the most beloved member of this family.

Bernard gifted her a sports car.

Rhonda gave her a set of jewelry.

Her coming–of–age party was as perfect as a fairytale.

I thought back to my last birthday, spent in the back kitchen of the restaurant where I worked.

The owner felt sorry for me and gave me a stale, expired cake.

I pulled out my phone, logged into my “Thirteenth Month” account, and posted, “It’s my birthday

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today. Happy birthday to me.”

Within seconds, the comments flooded in. “Happy birthday, Thirteenth Month!”

“When’s your next story coming?”

“Happy birthday! Always supporting you!”

I smiled.

See, there are still people who remember my birthday.

Even if they have no idea who I really am.