Chapter 7

The day after I arrived at the Chicago adoption agency, Mr. and Mrs. Hayes came to visit.

The agency director told me they were looking for a girl around seven years old.

The only other seven-year-old girl at the agency had a difficult temperament and refused to speak to anyone.

So when Officer Miller called about me, the director brought me in, hoping for a match.

The next morning, the couple arrived. Richard Hayes liked me the moment he saw me, and his wife, Eleanor, seemed pleased as well.

"Eleanor, look at her," Richard whispered, gently lifting my chin. "Her eyes... they look so much like Lily's."

I nervously clutched the hem of my dress, having no idea who Lily was.

Eleanor’s eyes welled with tears as she nodded in agreement.

I found out later that Lily was their biological daughter, who would have been my age.

She had passed away from leukemia just a few months prior.

Eleanor’s health was too fragile to conceive again, which was why they decided to adopt.

I had to thank my lucky stars for my pretty face, which allowed them to see their late daughter's ghost in me.

When they heard my name was Chloe, they took it as a sign from heaven.

"Sweetheart, we don't want to change your name if you don't want us to. Would you like to keep 'Chloe'?" Eleanor asked softly.

I nodded meekly.

And so, Chloe Hayes became my official identity.

"Perfect. Chloe means blooming and full of life. It’s a beautiful name," Richard smiled warmly.

A fresh start, blooming with life. It was indeed a perfect name.

It was the best gift I could have given myself.

The adoption went through smoothly. I became the sole heiress of the Hayes family and moved into their massive estate.

Just as I had hoped, our car pulled into a gated community and stopped in front of a stunning, multi-million-dollar mansion.

They were incredibly wealthy, even richer than my biological father had been.

And best of all, I had a mother again. From Eleanor, I received the gentle, unconditional maternal love I had never known.

I thanked God every day for my luck.

They treated me like royalty, decorating my room like a princess's castle.

"Thank you, Mom. Thank you, Dad. Thank you for bringing me home," I cried, throwing my arms around them.

Part of it was a performance to secure my place, but a large part of it was genuine.

Only I knew how hard I had fought to get here.

It was luck, and it was destiny.

I was more than willing to play the part of their perfect, resurrected daughter.