Chapter 2

Little Pops glanced at me and frowned, unable to stomach the torture I was being put through. He stepped between Jack and me.

"You booked some kind of surgery, right? If you beat her up this badly, how's she supposed to have an operation? Come with me."

The doctor hadn't arrived yet, so we could only wait in the ward.

Little Pops flipped through the surgery forms, his eyes full of surprise. "You're doing a brain transplant? Did she agree to it herself?"

He looked over at me. I shook my head as hard as I could.

Jack's hand cracked across my face. I slammed into the metal cabinet, stars bursting before my eyes.

Emma tried to smooth things over. "Of course she agrees. She's our own daughter. It's just that she was switched at birth. The one who's been living with us for over a decade is this one, my sweetheart. Naturally, my sweetheart is upset now that my daughter is back. We have to compensate her somehow."

She affectionately wrapped her arm around Sharon. The tenderness between them hurt my eyes.

Little Pops gave them a cold look, his brows drawing together as he muttered, "Another poor kid who got switched… I wonder how Maisie is doing right now…"

When I heard that, I struggled even harder.

I wanted to tell him I was right there. It was me!

Little Pops looked at me, suddenly hesitant. He took a few steps closer, as if he wanted to see past the mask on my face.

But Jack suddenly kicked me in the waist. I crashed to the floor, curling up from the pain. Tears filled my eyes, blurring my vision.

I thought of the old days, when my eight godfathers doted on me. I'd grown up spoiled and pampered, and I'd never even scratched a finger. Who would've thought that as soon as I went "home", my life would turn straight into a living hell?

Little Pops took pity on me. He reached down to pull me up and said, "Enough. How can you treat your real daughter like this for your adopted daughter's sake? You even want to take her brain out? What kind of parents are you?

"Everyone has their own fate. Even if you risk everything to swap brains, there's no guarantee your adopted daughter will end up smart. I think you should forget about this surgery."

My parents looked embarrassed. They exchanged a glance, both of them wavering.

Right on cue, Sharon suddenly started to cry. "I knew you guys still cared more about her than you do about me. I really don't belong in this family. She's smarter than me, and she'll definitely be more successful than I am. I just wanted a smart brain so I could make a lot of money and take care of you guys…"

Before she even finished, her body went limp, and she fainted on the spot.

Emma was so worried that tears filled her eyes. "Sweetheart, sweetheart! She must have low blood sugar from not eating before the surgery. Quick, get her some glucose!"

My parents hurriedly helped Sharon out of the room. But before leaving, Emma didn't forget to look back at Little Pops and say, "That wretch will be fine. She grew up suffering. She's used to it. It's not like she'll starve to death. Whatever you do, don't give her anything to eat. Don't mess up my sweetheart's surgery!"

The ward quieted down.

Little Pops crouched down and looked at me with pity. "I've got a precious kid at home with a background just like yours. Whose precious kid are you?"

As he spoke, he untied the ropes around me. "Run. I can buy you two hours."

Tears streamed down my face.

Out of my eight godfathers, Little Pops was the one I'd met first. After Sharon's birth mother swapped us, she'd raised me for two years before getting sick of me. Then, she'd dumped me beside a trash can, and I'd started wandering the streets.

That was when I'd met Little Pops, who'd also been living off the streets. After that, we'd stuck together and begged for food.

He always said, "Ever since meeting you, I've gotten more food than before. Maisie, you're my lucky charm!"

Later, we'd gradually met my seven other godfathers. Little Pops would always tell them, "Maisie is a lucky charm. You guys have to take good care of her!"

I thought of those days. I remembered how each time we headed out to beg for food, Little Pops would bend down, and I would give a little hop onto his back. He would carry me through street after street, the setting sun stretching our shadows long on the ground.

If I jumped onto his back again now, he would recognize me for sure, right?

With that thought, I took a deep breath and jumped with all my might.