My husband found my long-lost cousin in a brothel, dying of a venereal disease.
She took one look at my happy life and decided I had stolen it from her.
I was never an impostor: my mother had given me to my grieving aunt in adoption when I was five.
For nine years, I had been made to soothe a woman who resented my happiness.
Now my husband expected me to sacrifice myself for my cousin too.
I was done paying for everyone else’s guilt.
This time, I would take what they owed me—and leave with my daughter.