Twins Alan and Patrick were adopted by a single mother of three as babies. But on their 18th birthday, their birth mother showed up at the party and shocked everyone.
The party was in full swing as Alan interrupted the guests.
“Excuse me, everyone,” he raised his glass, then turned to Alice. “Mom, can you please join Patrick and me?”
Alice smiled shyly as she stood beside her boys.
“Thank you for coming, everyone,” Alan continued. “Some of y’all might not know, but Patrick and I would’ve been struggling if Mom hadn’t come into our lives. So we wanted to take this moment to thank you, Mom,” he added…
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Tears sprang into Alice’s eyes as Patrick wrapped an arm around her.
“Alan’s right,” Patrick added. “18 years ago, Mom found us in that park across from this house. Abandoned and alone. We’re just so thankful she took us in. We love you, Mom! So much! And no matter how much we thank you, we can’t return the love and care you gave us.”
Alice and her boys wrapped each other in a hug as the crowd applauded. But suddenly, a hush fell over the gathering.
Alan and Patrick turned around and saw a pale, petite woman in ragged clothing in their backyard.
“Uh, can we help you?” Alan asked her.
“Are you Alan, and that’s…your brother, Patrick?” she asked tremblingly.
“Yes,” Patrick replied. “Who are you?”
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“I’m—I’m your birth mother, Amanda…” she revealed shakily, and a huge gasp rang out in the gathering.
The party ended abruptly as Alan, Patrick, Amanda, and Alice went inside the house.
“Why are you here after all these years?” Alan asked as Amanda settled on the living room couch.
“18 years ago, I saw your father for the last time and did something I shouldn’t have. All these years, I…I was in the prison,” Amanda replied as the past flashed before her eyes.
18 years ago…
Amanda, 24, straightened her uniform as she joined the restaurant staff to welcome her boss, Adam, and his parents. Suddenly, a limo pulled outside the diner.
“Congratulations, and welcome back, boss!” Confetti rained on Adam and his parents, and applause sounded in the eatery.
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The staff wished Adam the best for expanding the business in Europe and returned to work, but Amanda’s gaze was fixed on him. She quietly followed him as she saw him head to his office after talking with the manager.
“Oh my god, finally!” She locked the office door and threw herself into his arms.
“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this! Our children look exactly like you,” she added, pulling away. “Twin boys. I was tired of making up stories about having another fiancé, Adam! And the pregnancy was so hard…but now that you’re here…Finally, we can be together!”
“Stop it, Amanda,” he looked away from her. “We’re not going to be together.”
“Shut up! Not the time for pranks!” she smiled foolishly and pulled him in a hug. But he pulled away.
“Oh god, stop it!” he hissed. “And lower your voice. Amanda, I’m really sorry, but I met someone while I was in Europe, and we’re getting married in two weeks!”
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Amanda was shocked. She thought he was still joking, but Adam was serious. He told her he would pay her $70,000, an unofficial alimony monthly until the twins were 18, and even fund their college education. All he wanted from her was her silence about the twins.
“I’m telling your fiancée everything!” Amanda blackmailed him. “She needs to know the kind of man you are, Adam!”
But Amanda was too naive at the time. Unbothered by her words, Adam threatened to put her on the blacklist and destroy her career. “And nobody will hire you as a chef after that, Amanda,” he sighed. “So a peaceful break up is a good way out for both of us.”
Amanda was shattered. Too stunned to react, she just went home, and when she looked at her twin babies, she couldn’t stop herself from crying. Her friend, Sarah, who babysat her kids, was horrified when Amanda began sobbing like a child on the living room floor.
“He left me! For a girl he met 10 months ago!” she cried as Sarah hugged her.
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“He’s not the right man for you, Amanda,” Sarah advised her. “And it’s only fair he’s compensating you. Take the deal. It will secure your children’s future.”
But Amanda was boiling in rage. “No way I’m backing off!” she barked, wiping her tears. “Adam won’t get married or live peacefully…Not while I’m alive!”
The next day at the restaurant, Amanda’s eyes followed Adam and his fiancée, Catherine. She wanted to scream and tell everyone what a horrible man Adam was as she saw him playing the gentleman card. But she composed herself because she had a plan.
“What would you like to have, ma’am?” she asked as she approached Catherine’s table. “Hi, I’m the head chef, Amanda. I’ll be assisting you today.”
“Oh god, please call me Catherine,” Catherine jumped to her feet. “I know I was here for breakfast, but let’s do that later. Can you show me around the restaurant? Your boss has been putting it off for too long!”
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Amanda grinned wickedly. “Oh! That would be a pleasure!” she said.
Amanda was so nice to Catherine while they toured the restaurant that the two struck a friendship. Catherine insisted on having breakfast with her, which gave Amanda the chance she was waiting for.
“I wanted to ask you something as a friend, Amanda…” Catherine paused eating and looked at her. “Has Adam ever dated anyone on the staff? It’s not like he would hide something from me, but…I was, you know, just curious.”
Amanda’s happiness knew no bounds, but she maintained her serious expression. “Oh well, Mr. Quinn had a bit of a reputation with women, but come on, Catherine, he’s such a gentleman, and he’s turned over a new leaf now that he’s met the love of his life,” she said, smiling. “You probably have nothing to worry about.”
But Catherine had fallen into deep thought, doubting whether she knew Adam. Amanda noticed that, and she was elated. She eventually excused herself and left the restaurant after some time, ready to put the second part of her plan into action.
“Hey, um, can I get some sleeping pills?” she asked the pharmacist at the medical store across the street.
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That evening, Adam and his friends gathered at the restaurant for his bachelor party. Most of the staff had gone home except a few male members serving Adam and his friends. Amanda stayed behind, citing she was finalizing new dishes for the menu.
When she noticed Adam and his group were quite drunk and some of his friends were leaving, she approached their table. She sneaked sleeping pills into Adam’s glass, pretending to clean the dirty dishes.
“Oh, let me give you a hand,” she smiled at the server as she poured them drinks.
Amanda watched Adam from the kitchen door that evening until he downed the last alcohol. She panicked when she noticed he was in a deep sleep, and two of his friends decided to carry him home.
“You can’t do that!” she blurted, hurriedly approaching them. “I—I mean, you can’t take him home because Mr. Quinn’s fiancée is at his home, celebrating her bachelorette with her friends. How about you help me carry him to his office couch? He sleeps there when he’s working late.”
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The two guys exchanged glances, and her heart raced, wondering if they had bought her story.
“Sure!” they said seconds later, and she sighed in relief.
Once Adam was alone at the restaurant, Amanda called a stripper there. “10 times what they quoted on your website,” she offered the woman. “Make it look like you seduced him and went above and beyond your ‘job description.’”
“Are you crazy?” the woman retorted. “I don’t sleep with guys for whatever money you offer me. Keep that money; I’m outta here!”
“No, wait!” Amanda stopped her. “All you need to do is make it look like you slept with him, do you understand? Um, his fiancée should get to see you two together. Can you do that?”
“You should’ve said that before!” the stripper rolled her eyes and agreed.
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Two hours later, it was 7 a.m. Amanda called Catherine and invited her for breakfast at the restaurant as planned. But Catherine was not prepared for the shock.
“WHAT THE HELL, ADAM?!” she screamed as she marched into Adam’s office, and Amanda stood behind her, grinning that her plan was successful.
The stripper pulled herself off Adam and began dressing. Adam sat frozen on the couch.
“How could you do this when we’re getting married in a few days, Adam?!” Catherine yelled. “Disgusting!”
“I didn’t do anything, babe!” he rose to his feet, shaking his head. “I—I don’t remember anything because I was quite drunk last night, but—”
“Don’t lie to your future wife,” the stripper smirked. “You called me for a private performance, then we had wine, you told me how beautiful I looked…and well, the rest is history!”
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“Don’t lie!” he yelled. “I couldn’t have—Wait if I called you here, I would’ve paid you, right? Show me the transaction!”
“You gave me cash,” she shrugged and opened her purse.
“Lies!” Adam fumed. “Another bunch of lies, babe! I only make payments with my credit card.”
Then he looked beyond Catherine’s shoulder and saw Amanda.
“Actually, you know what, babe,” he said as the stripper left. “Let’s check the cameras, and we’ll know what happened!”
Amanda’s plan backfired once Adam and Catherine checked the CCTV as they saw Amanda was the one who led the stripper to Adam’s office. Catherine demanded Amanda be put on a blacklist, but Adam only fired her and told her to go away from his and Catherine’s lives.
“I won’t!” she growled then. “You won’t live in peace, Adam!”
When Adam and Catherine’s wedding day arrived, Amanda decided to crash their wedding.
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“Stop it, Amanda!” Sarah scolded her. She had moved in with Amanda because Amanda had been on a bender, too lost to care for the twins.
“I didn’t ask for your opinion!” she snapped as she chugged the wine. “That man can’t leave me like this and move on with a happily ever after!”
“Snap to your senses, Amanda!” Sarah told her. “You’ve got two sons, and you should be bothered about them! It’s not the end of the world! You can find a better guy!”
But Amanda didn’t listen to anyone but herself. She forced Sarah to leave her alone, and then Amanda drove to the park where Adam and Catherine’s wedding venue was arranged.
Amanda swallowed the angry tears rising to her eyes as she spotted a woman sitting across from the venue on a bench. Her three children were playing around her.
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Amanda left her twins with the woman for 10 minutes and burst into the venue, yelling, “THE GROOM IS THE FATHER OF MY TWINS!”
Amanda smirked as the guests gasped in horror and stared at Adam. She had no idea Adam had confessed the truth to Catherine.
“Stop embarrassing yourself, Amanda,” he advised her, and Amanda’s rage knew no bounds. Fury gripped her, and she began ruining the entire venue—plucking the decorations, toppling the tables, and kicking the chairs—until the patrol policeman ran up to her.
He began escorting her out. But there was a moment of negligence, and she got her hands on the gun in the cop’s holster.
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She shot Adam but missed the aim.
“What the hell!” he cried, clutching his injured arm.
Amanda froze. The gun slipped from her grasp. The next moment, the cop pushed her to the ground, and she passed out.
Present-day…
“And that’s how I ruined life for all of us,” Amanda finished. “I’m sorry. I hope you forgive me someday.”
“And I was the woman she had asked to watch you both,” Alice added.
There was a moment of silence, and then Patrick looked at Amanda. “Maybe someday we’ll forgive you. But in the meantime, we’ll help you restart your life. We’ve all suffered enough, and that includes you.”
My Sister Inherited Everything, While My Father Left Me Only a Chessboard, But the Secret It Held Shocked Our Entire Family — Story of the Day
My sister got the house. I got a chessboard. At first, I thought it was my father’s final insult — until I heard something strange rattling inside one of the pieces.
“Life is a chess game,” my father used to say. “You don’t win by shouting. You win by seeing three moves ahead.”
I used to roll my eyes when he said that. But that day I’d give anything to hear him say it one more time.
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I didn’t speak when he died in the bedroom where we played every Sunday. Didn’t speak when neighbors brought warm casseroles and colder condolences. Didn’t speak when my half-sister Lara arrived — tanned, smiling, wrapped in a coat that probably cost more than the funeral.
“Gosh,” she said to my mother, “it still smells like him in here.”
Of course, it did. His perfumed coat was still hanging by the door.
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Lara didn’t come to mourn. She came to collect.
We sat side by side waiting for the last will. Finally, the lawyer unfolded the envelope.
“For my daughter Lara, I leave the house and everything within it,” he read aloud. “The property cannot be sold while its current resident remains.”
Lara didn’t look at me. Just smiled.
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“And for my daughter Kate…”
The lawyer paused. I held my breath.
“I leave my chessboard and its pieces.”
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Lara let out a soft snort and tilted her head toward me.
“A house for me, and a hobby for you. Fitting, don’t you think?”
I didn’t answer. Just stood, picked up the chess set, and walked out. I could still hear her laughter behind me. Outside, I walked without a plan. The wind bit through my sleeves.
By the time I realized where I was going, my feet had already taken me to the old park. The chess tables were still there, half-sunken in stone and moss.
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I sat down. Opened the box. My fingers moved without thinking. Bishop. Knight. Pawn. King.
“You’re really doing this?”
The voice sliced through the silence. I didn’t need to turn around. Lara. She appeared beside me and dropped into the seat like it had always been hers.
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“Still clinging to Daddy’s toys? You really are predictable.”
She reached out and moved a pawn without asking. I responded.
We started playing.
“You know,” she said, cocking her head, “he always thought this game taught character. But it’s just wood. Just symbols.”
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She moved again. “I got the house.”
I stayed quiet.
“You got a game.”
Pawn. Knight. Bishop.
“You always thought this meant something,” she continued. “But in the end, it’s just wood.”
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Her final move came fast. A snap of the wrist.
“Checkmate,” she declared, slamming the knight down with unnecessary flair.
Then — for the drama, or maybe just for cruelty — she stood and swept the board with her arm.
“No point in clinging to illusions.”
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The pieces scattered. Some bounced on the stone table. Others tumbled into the grass. One landed near my foot. I reached down. Picked it up. It was heavier than I remembered. I rolled it between my fingers.
Click.
What is that?
Not the sound of wood. Not hollow. I picked up another piece. Gently shook it. Rattle. My breath caught in my throat.
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There’s something inside!
I looked up. Lara was watching me. Our eyes locked. And in that split second, I was almost sure — she’d heard it too. But she tilted her head, as if bored, and let her gaze drift past me like I wasn’t even there.
“Come to dinner tonight,” she said casually. “Mother asked. Said we should honor him properly. As a family.”
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I blinked.
“Did she really?”
“Of course. It’s what he would’ve wanted. We should all be… civil.”
She turned and walked away before I could respond, heels clicking against the path like a ticking clock.
Did she just make that up? Or did she plan it?
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Knowing Lara, either answer could be true. She was clever. And invitations could be just as dangerous as threats.
That dinner wasn’t a gesture.
It was a move. She is playing with me now.
And I had no choice but to sit at the board.
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***
A few hours later, Lara was already in the kitchen when I came downstairs — humming, stirring, plating food like she’d done it a thousand times.
She even wore an apron. The one she used to call “tragically domestic.”
“Evening,” she said brightly, opening the oven. “Hope you’re hungry. I made rosemary chicken. And there’s a vegan option for Mom.”
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I blinked. Our mother looked up at Lara as if someone had replaced her overnight.
“You cooked?” she asked, brows raised.
Lara laughed sweetly.
“It’s not that hard. I followed a recipe. Even cut fresh parsley for garnish.”
Fresh parsley. Of course.
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I took my seat in silence. Across from the impostor who wore my sister’s face.
Throughout the meal, Lara kept the performance going — passing dishes with both hands, topping off water glasses, smiling like she hadn’t just mocked me in a park hours earlier.
She didn’t look at me. Not directly. Not until I stood and placed the chessboard on the hallway console. Just behind me. Just in view. Closed. Waiting.
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That was my move.
A pawn offered. I wanted to see if she’d flinch. She didn’t flinch. But her smile stretched a little too tight.
Our mother noticed.
“You’ve been very sweet today,” she said to Lara, her voice light but deliberate. “Unusually sweet.”
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“I’m trying to be better. We’re family, right?”
“Some bonds are stronger than others,” our mother said, cutting into her food. “Especially when they’re tested. When people choose to stay, to support.”
Her eyes didn’t leave me as she said it. I forced a smile.
“Is that what this is? Support?”
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“I just think,” she said, setting down her fork, “that your father… he finally saw who truly stood beside him. Who gave him peace.”
“Peace?” I asked, my voice tightening. “You mean silence. Compliance. He didn’t want peace — he wanted loyalty.”
“And you think that was you?”
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I looked at Lara. “I stayed. I bathed him. Fed him. Watched him fade.”
“And he left you a game,” Lara said, still smiling.
“Maybe that says more about him than me,” I said sharply.
Our, no, Lara’s mother leaned forward.
“He gave my daughter the house because she deserved it. She sacrificed more than you know. And maybe it’s time you stopped acting like the victim.”
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“I’m not acting. You’re just not used to seeing me speak.”
There was a pause — full, sharp. Then Lara laughed.
“Okay, let’s not ruin dinner. This is supposed to be nice.”
Her mother turned to me.
“You should start packing in the morning. Just so there are no… complications.”
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I stared at her. At both of them. At the fake peace, they tried to pass as family.
I picked up my plate. Quietly brought it to the sink. I didn’t say thank you. I didn’t say anything.
Just turned, walked upstairs, and locked my door behind me.
I knew one thing for certain. Dinner wasn’t over.
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***
The house held its breath. I was waiting.
Suddenly…
Somewhere in the darkness, I heard the soft creak of floorboards. A quiet click of a drawer. A velvet shuffle. Lara was crouched over the chessboard, the pieces already scattered, some opened. A paring knife beside her.
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One of the rooks cracked in half. A small velvet pouch in her hand, glinting with stolen pride.
“So,” I said calmly. “It wasn’t just wood after all.”
Lara spun around, startled, then narrowed her eyes.
“You knew.”
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I didn’t answer. She stood, straightening herself like a dancer on a stage.
“I solved it,” she said. “He left the real gift inside the game. And I found it.”
“You broke it open like a thief.”
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“He gave you the board, but he gave me the meaning. And now I have it.”
“Do you?”
From the shadows behind us, her mother emerged.
“She figured it out,” she said simply. “And you didn’t.”
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I looked at both of them. At the confidence in Lara’s eyes. At the satisfaction twisting in her mouth. They were already reaching for the stones.
Lara lifted the pouch and dropped a few of them onto her palm — bright, glassy things.
“Check and mate,” she whispered.
I looked at her.
“No. Zugzwang.”
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“What?”
“It’s a chess term. It means every move you make now only makes things worse.”
The mother frowned. “What are you talking about?”
I stepped closer to the table. Tapped one of the pieces Lara had cracked open.
“Glass. Colored, smooth. From a sewing kit, I’ve had since I was fifteen.”
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I looked straight at Lara.
“You found what I let you find.”
She went pale. “The stones you found? They’re fakes. Glass. From an old bead kit, I used to keep for sewing buttons.
“I swapped them out the morning after the funeral.”
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Lara’s face paled. “You’re lying.”
I reached into my coat and pulled out a slim envelope.
“Here’s the deposit confirmation from the bank. The real pouch is already locked away. Under my name. Safe. Untouchable.”
Lara stepped back as the paper burned her. Her mother said nothing.
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“And there’s something else,” I said, reaching into the lining of the chessboard case.
A folded piece of paper. Soft from time, but intact.
“My father’s real will. The one he hid, because he knew the official one would only start the game.”
I opened it and read aloud:
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“To my daughters…
If you’re reading this, it means the game has played out.
Lara, I loved you fiercely. I gave you much. You had freedom, opportunity, and every chance to show who you are. To your mother — I gave all I could. I hope it brought peace.
Kate — you stayed. You carried the weight. I gave you little but left you the map. That was my last game. My test.
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If you are honest, you may live together in peace. If not, everything belongs to Kate.
I gave you all the pieces of me. I needed to see who would protect the whole.”
I folded the letter. Silence hung between us like fog. I looked at Lara, then her mother.
“Checkmate.”
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