Wrong Life Swap: Both Families Want Me Back

"We're truly sorry. You and Melody Foster both have a rare blood type, and your names and your mothers' names are so similar that the records were mixed up when your birth files were created. They still haven't been corrected. Would you mind letting your family know?"

I hung up the phone. My adoptive parents were sitting across from me, staring at my medical report with grim expressions.

"So, um..."

I barely got a word out before my adoptive father, Brent Fowler, slammed his fist on the table. "What? You want my daughter to give you a kidney?"

The words died in my throat. Part of me wanted to test how much I actually mattered to them. After all, I'd been their daughter for 18 years.

"The doctor said donating one kidney won't affect life expectancy. The donor can still live a perfectly healthy life afterward."

My adoptive mother, Karen Bradford, was so furious she started crying. "How can you be this selfish? Why should my daughter trade her health for your life? 18 years raising someone else's kid, and all we got is a parasite. What did I do to deserve this?"

The words hit me like a slap. I swallowed my hurt and kept going. "But I'll die."

Brent scoffed. "Then die. You're not ours anyway. Rotten to the core, just like I always said. If Melody had kidney failure, she would never stoop so low as to beg someone for a kidney!"

Karen hurried off and came back with a pen and paper. She scrawled "Organ Donation Waiver" across the top.

"You're not getting a kidney. Go beg your real parents for money. You've been leeching off us for over a decade. If you had any shame, you'd jump off a building. At least that way you'd have repaid us for raising you."

Brent picked up the phone and called his lawyer friend right then and there. "This agreement is too sloppy. What if she finds a loophole? We raised this little wretch for 18 years. You think we don't know what she's like? If we don't lock this down, she'll come after us for more."

I stared at the agreement, my nails digging into my palms. But I understood. They were only my adoptive parents, after all.

So, what would my real parents do?

With that thought, I headed to my biological parents' house.