Chapter 3

A living, breathing five‑year‑old child sounded like nothing more than an unwanted old piece of clothing in her eyes, something she could throw away.

Victor glared at me. "Maya, listen to your father. Let this end here. Family scandals should not be exposed. If word gets out, it will not be good for anyone."

I asked, "Not good for who?"

He avoided my gaze.

I finished the sentence for him. "Not good for Selena, not good for you.

"As for me? The life that was stolen from me was never considered my life anyway."

Victor could no longer keep his composure. He rushed forward and tried to snatch my phone.

I stepped back and lit up the screen.

The recording app had already been running for fifteen minutes.

I held up my phone.

"Keep talking. I am recording everything."

Selena’s face finally turned pale.

I looked at all of them.

"Forging official documents.

"Using someone else’s identity to register a marriage.

"Fraudulently obtaining marital assets.

"If fake documents were also used to register the child, there will be more charges.

"I am going to the police to file a report tomorrow morning."

Victor pointed at me. His hand trembled violently.

"You would not dare."

I grabbed my suitcase.

"You dared to steal my identity. Why would I not dare to report you?"

As I reached the door, Selena suddenly called out.

"Maya, do not forget. Before your mother died, she asked my dad to take better care of you."

I stopped.

Those words were even uglier than stealing my identity.

I turned around and looked at her.

"Then you should not forget this either.

"The dead cannot take the blame for you."

…

By six the next morning, Victor was already waiting outside my door.

I stayed at a budget hotel in the county the night before. He did not know my room number, so he had waited all night on the lobby sofa.

The moment he saw me, he rushed over.

"Maya, I was wrong. I was confused."

He blocked my way out.

"Selena is still young. She cannot go to prison. Whatever compensation you want, I will find a way."

I looked at him.

Compensation?

What could he possibly use to compensate me?

I walked around him and headed outside.

He panicked and grabbed my arm.

"Maya, do not force me."

I shook his hand away.

"Every time you try to stop me, I will submit one more piece of evidence starting today."

He was startled for a moment.

I took a taxi straight to the county Civil Affairs Bureau.

By eight thirty that morning, the service counter had just opened.

I handed over my ID, the police station receipt, and my company attendance records.

The clerk glanced at them without much expression.

"This requires retrieving archived records. It may take some time."

"How long?"

"Hard to say. The system is old, and some records are not connected online."

I stared at her. "Is 2018 considered old?"

She looked up at me. The look on her face could not have been clearer, telling me not to make trouble.

"Even if you are in a hurry, there is nothing we can do. Go home and wait for notice."

I did not leave.

I stood at the counter and called the county discipline inspection hotline.

I said into the phone, "Hello, I would like to file a real‑name report regarding irregularities in the marriage registration archive management at the county Civil Affairs Bureau. I was not present in 2018, yet a marriage was registered under my name. The staff refused to retrieve the records and claimed the system was not connected online."

The clerk immediately stood up. "What are you doing? Who refused to help you?"

I turned on the speakerphone.

"Miss, may I ask for your name?"

The staff member from the discipline inspection office quickly began taking notes.

Five minutes later, the head of the archives department rushed out.

"Miss Delaney, please do not get upset. We will investigate immediately."

I followed him into the archive room.

When the paper files were brought out, sweat appeared on the department head’s forehead.

The marriage application form had my signature.

However, the handwriting was completely different from mine.

The copy of the ID card was my old ID, the one I had reported lost and canceled six years ago.

I asked, "What about facial recognition records?"

The department head searched for a long time but found nothing.

"The system had not been fully integrated yet at that time."

I stared at him.

"Then where is the video proving I appeared in person?"

He stayed silent.

I continued, "Who handled this registration?"

The final page of the file had an official stamp.

The processing officer was Helen Lane.

The department head swallowed hard.

"Helen has already retired."

I photographed every page of the documents.

"Retirement is not a get‑out‑of‑jail card."

The department head finally lowered his voice. "Miss Delaney, there are serious irregularities with this registration. We will begin the cancellation process."

"I want a written notice confirming acceptance of my case."

He hesitated for a moment.

I placed my phone on the desk.

"Do I need to call the discipline inspection office again?"