Page 68 of What Goes Around

“Crazy how different I look, right?” I mused. “Why do I look nothing like the two of you?”

Marissa blinked rapidly. “You take after your father’s side. His aunt was tall and fair.”

Of course. That tired excuse again.

“You always say I take after Dad,” I said, tilting my head. “But he doesn’t have my nose. Or my mouth. Or these cheekbones.”

A muscle in her jaw jumped.

“Well, features vary,” she said stiffly. “Genetics skip around.”

Apple crossed her arms. “Why are you being weird about this?”

I ignored her, keeping my gaze locked on Marissa.

“Seriously. Look at me and look at you two. My features don’t resemble either of yours.”

Marissa let out a strained laugh.

“Ashley, not every child looks exactly like their parents.”

“Of course not,” I said lightly. “But are you sure you’re my real mother? Maybe I was switched at birth.”

Marissa snapped upright.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You are my daughter. End of discussion.”

I stepped back and gave her a sweet, innocent smile.

“I’m joking,” I said.

But the glint in my eyes said I wasn’t, not really.

“Relax.”

I turned and grabbed my bags. Their eyes burned holes into my back the whole way to the stairs.

And just as I stepped onto the first step, I heard Marissa mutter under her breath:

“She looks exactly like her.”

And Apple whispered back, confused:

“Like who?”

Chapter 21: The Life Before Mine

If there was one thing I knew for certain about my father’s past, it was where he went to college.

He had mentioned it once years ago in passing, like it was just another unimportant detail in a life he preferred not to look back on. At the time, I hadn’t cared.

But it mattered now. Everything did.

So I started there.

I opened my laptop and typed the name into the search bar: UC Berkeley.

From there, I disappeared into the dusty corners of the internet, scanned alumni pages, archived newsletters, and half-broken directories from another century.