No Imposter Matches the Returned Me

Five years after I staged my own death, a system notification jolted me back to the life Id left behind. My daughter, the one I had to leave in that other world, was dying.
How is that possible?
When I gave birth and faked my death to return home, I made my last wish crystal clear: take care of our daughter.
After all, the final request of the woman you loved, your ghost of a memory, is supposed to be sacred.
Clive Hawthorne swore he would protect our Cici.
But the systems explanation painted a grim picture. After I "died," a lookalike named Jessica had wormed her way into his life. Publicly, she showered Cici with affection. Privately, she poisoned their relationship, whispering insidious suggestions in Clives ear. She hinted that if Cicis birth hadnt caused the amniotic fluid embolism, I would never have died.
Cici never looked much like me to begin with. Fueled by Jessicas venom, Clive's affection for our daughter soured into indifference, then outright neglect.
And now, Cici was on the brink of death. Accused by Jessica of breaking something of mine, shed been forced to kneel in the freezing snow, her breathing faint and shallow.
A bitter, cold laugh escaped my lips.
I knew Clive was unreliable, but I never imagined the idiot was this unreliable.
System, I commanded, my voice tight with fury, send me back. Now.
A replacement, after all, is just a pale imitation. Whats a lookalike compared to the real thing, returned from the grave?
When I materialized, the scene was even worse than Id imagined.
My daughter was a small, fragile heap in the snow, her tiny body nearly swallowed by the drifts. Her face was flushed a dangerous red, and frozen tear tracks glistened like shards of ice on her cheeks.
She was still murmuring, delirious.
Daddy I didnt Cici didnt break Mommys things. I didnt do it.
The sight shattered me. Ive lived my life without regrets, but my one great failing was my daughter. I thought I had secured her future, left her in the safest hands possible. I never dreamed she would be tormented like this.
Eight years ago, a car crash had left me in a coma. My parents, their hair turning white overnight, were devastated. Thats when the system found me.
[Successfully win the heart of Clive Hawthorne and bear his child, and you will be granted one wish.]
Three years later, my mission was complete. I refused the systems offer to stay in that world. My wish was to go home, to be with my parents. They were both gravely ill, and I needed to be there for them in their final years.
Because Id completed the mission so well, the system made me a promise: after my parents passed, I would have one chance to return.
I had just buried them when the systems alert came through, telling me my daughter was about to die.
Cici, baby, its okay, I whispered, wiping the tears from my own eyes. I scooped her frigid body into my arms. Mommys back. No one will ever hurt you again.
This wasnt the time for grief. The priority was getting her to a hospital.
Even after five years, the security code for the main gate worked. My fingers still remembered. But Id barely taken two steps when a shrill voice cut through the air.
You little bitch! Did I say you could get up? You run now and Ill tell your father. Hell never want to see you again!
Jessica climbed out of her car, her tirade screeching to a halt the moment she saw my face. Her eyes widened, a flicker of confusion and fear in them.
Who who are you? Why do you look so much like her?
I glanced up. She truly did look like me, about eighty percent. But her upper lip was too thin, giving her a perpetually cruel, sharp look.
Get out of my way, I snarled.
You hurt my daughter. Ill deal with you later.
I tried to move past her, but she grabbed my arm, her grip like a vise. Her eyes scanned my face, burning with a jealous fire. Everything she had, she owed to that resemblance.
Before I could answer, her eyes widened again, but this time, the jealousy morphed into triumphant arrogance.
Of course. I should have known. Youre just some cheap knock-off whos been under the knife! Trying to replace me? Too bad. Clive hates fakes.
I knew she was talking about my nose, the one that had been broken years ago when I took a punch for Clive. It had left a tiny, almost imperceptible imperfection. He used to love kissing that exact spot when we were in bed.
Jessicas confidence returned in a rush. She flicked a perfectly manicured nail, her chin held high.
A fake like you can try to win over this little brat, but it wont do you any good. Her eyes narrowed with a flash of pure malice. Besides, once I have my own baby, this little brat wont be necessary anymore.
A rage colder and harder than the winter air seized me.
Cicis body was growing hotter in my arms, a sure sign of a raging fever.
I suppressed the urge to throttle Jessica right there. Instead, I snatched the car keys from her hand, unlocked the door, and gently placed Cici inside.
Are you insane? You cant just steal my keys!
This time, I didnt hold back. I snapped, my hand cracking across her face in a sharp slap.
You!
What do you think Clive will do, I said, my voice dangerously low, when he finds out you almost killed his daughter?
Jessica froze, like a hen with its neck suddenly wrung. A flicker of genuine fear crossed her face. She tormented Cici in secret and kept Clive at a distance from his daughter, but if the girl actually died, she knew Clive would never forgive her. She still hadn't fully figured him out, hadn't completely secured her place.
Ignoring her pale, shifting expression, I jumped into the drivers seat and sped toward the best hospital in the city.
How could you let this happen? As her parents Malnutrition, delayed bone development, second-degree frostbite
With every word the doctor spoke, my heart sank deeper, the weight of my guilt growing heavier.
I know, I whispered, my voice thick. Its my fault. Im a terrible mother.
The doctor sighed, his expression softening slightly. Look, raising a child is a two-person job. You need to get her father down here. Your daughter has been through hell. She needs both of you.
After he left, I borrowed a phone from the front desk and dialed Clives number, my face a mask of cold fury.
Clive Hawthorne, is this how you take care of our daughter?
Right now, I want you to get your ass down to the hospital and pay the bills.
The familiar sound of my voice made him pause. I heard the sharp intake of breath, the disbelief.
Clara?
I nodded, then remembered he couldnt see me. Yes. Its me. Im back.
My voice hardened. Clive, if I hadnt come back, you would have let our daughter die. What happened to the promise you made me when I was on my deathbed?
Silence. He remembered. I could feel it across the line.
He started to explain, his voice shaky. Clara, listen, I can He stopped, then let out a hollow, self-deprecating laugh.
Scammers are getting more sophisticated every day. You almost had me. He sighed, a weary, condescending tone creeping into his voice. Ill let this go, just because your voice sounds like hers. But if you ever try this again, Ill make sure you can never speak again.
I was speechless. What an idiot.
Because of the systems rules, I could never tell him the whole truth. But I had tried to prepare him, telling him over and over again not to despair if I died suddenly, that miracles could happen, that we might see each other again. Id repeated it so often, hoping it would sink in.
Clearly, it hadnt.
I didnt have time to argue or prove myself. Cici needed me.
I cut him off. If you ever want to see Clara Vance again, get to City General Hospital. Then I hung up.
I knew he would come. Whether he believed me or not, the mention of my full name would be enough to make him show up.
I rushed back to the room.
As I pushed the door open, I saw Jessica yanking Cici by the hair, trying to drag her out of the hospital bed.
Stop it! What are you doing? Cant you see shes on an IV drip?
Jessica shot me a contemptuous look. Im taking her home, obviously. I cant have people seeing her in a hospital. Theyll think Im not taking good care of her. Shes not going to die, anyway.
Blood was backing up in Cicis IV line. Her face was chalk-white, but she didnt fight back. She was completely limp, resigned.
My heart twisted in agony. I was terrified to fight back physically, scared of hurting Cici more in the struggle. The rage built inside me, hot and suffocating.
Seeing my hesitation, Jessica sneered. Dont tell me you actually care about this little wretch. Shes just a brat putting on a show. She doesnt deserve a private room this expensive. A little hot water at home and shell be fine.
She continued, her voice dripping with venomous pride. She once told me she was allergic to shellfish. Please. Just a picky eater. I cured her of that nonsense by sneaking powdered shrimp into her soup. The little bitch even tried to tattle to Clive. But who was he going to believe? That woman wasnt allergic to shellfish, so Cici had no proof. All she did was make herself look like a liar.
The stories kept coming, a cascade of casual cruelty.
When Cici refused to call her Mommy, Jessica would secretly jab her fingertips with a needle.
When Cici wouldnt tell her Clives personal preferences, she would find excuses to keep him away, then tell Cici it was her fault, that Daddy didnt want to see her because she was being disobedient.
I was flawless, Jessica boasted, her confidence soaring. Even if Clive came back right now and this little brat tried to complain, hed just think she was lying again. See? Look at her now. She knows better than to cross me.
She was so caught up in her monologue, so proud of how shed broken my daughter, that she didnt see me move. I waited for the perfect moment, then lunged, grabbing her outstretched hand and bending her fingers back with a vicious twist.
Aaargh!
As Jessica shrieked in pain, I swept Cici into my arms, sinking to the floor and cradling her close.
Cici, are you okay? Does anything hurt? I asked frantically, my voice trembling.
For a moment, she remained limp and unresponsive. Then, slowly, she lifted her head. Her vacant eyes focused on my face, and a tiny spark of light returned to them.
Mom Mommy
Yes, baby, its Mommy, I choked out, my heart aching with a mix of relief and sorrow. Im back. I wont let anyone hurt you ever again.
I hugged her tightly. Her little head rested against my chest, and she didnt say another word. But soon, I felt a spreading dampness on my shirt.
She was crying. Silently weeping out all the fear and pain.
The realization was a knife in my gut.
Its okay, Cici. You can cry. Let it all out. Mommys here to protect you now.
Our moment was shattered by Jessicas shrill voice.
You bitch! You think a new face makes you her mother? How dare you touch me! Im going to be Mrs. Hawthorne, the mistress of Hawthorne Corp! Youll pay for this! Ill destroy you!
She blocked the doorway and pulled out her phone, dialing furiously.
A jolt of fear went through me. Id acted on impulse. The world thought Clara Vance was dead. To everyone else, Jessica was the one poised to take my place. She would have people, thugs on her payroll.
But I didnt regret it. I couldnt stand by and watch my daughter suffer for one more second.
I did a quick calculation. Clive should be here soon.
I pushed the hospital bed into the far corner of the room, away from the door, and spoke to Cici in a soft, soothing voice.
Cici, no matter what happens next, I want you to close your eyes and rest, okay? Dont look. When Mommy comes to get you, were going home.
Cici stared at me, her eyes wide. Then, fresh tears streamed down her face.
Mommy, dont go. Dont go.
Her plea squeezed my heart until it felt like a crumpled piece of paper.
I wont leave, baby. Mommys going to stay with you forever.
Just as I managed to calm her down, the men Jessica had called arrived.
There she is, Jessica hissed, her face contorted with hate. Now youll learn what happens when you cross me.
My stomach clenched. I grabbed the metal IV stand next to the bed, gripping it like a weapon.
You see her? Jessica spat at the men. She loves that little brat so much, right? So why dont you help her get pregnant? Let her have babies until she dies from it!
Five burly men filled the doorway, making the spacious room feel cramped and suffocating. My eyes locked onto the leader, and a spark of hope ignited within me.
I knew him. He used to work for me.
Leo, its me, Clara Vance, I said, my voice steady. Dont ask how Im back. Just know that if you touch me, you know what the consequences will be.
He hesitated. I saw the doubt in his eyes.
Leo, are you serious? Jessica scoffed. Youre not falling for that plastic face, are you? Use that thick skull of yours for a second. Clara Vance is dead. Dead people dont come back. Think about your mother in the hospital. You do this for me, and Ill give you more than enough money to take care of her.
Leos hand tightened around the stun baton he was holding.
I knew it was useless to say anything more.
I was just thankful for one thing. Back when the Hawthorne family was a major target, Clive was constantly at risk of being kidnapped. To protect him, Id learned self-defense. It should be enough to hold them off until he arrived.
I overestimated myself.
Leo had been my bodyguard for a reason. In less than five minutes, my arms were pinned behind my back and I was forced to my knees.
Jessica crouched in front of me, grabbing my chin. She slapped me hard across the face.
Still so tough, you bitch? Still so proud? she sneered. You paid for a new face and thought you could be Clara Vance? Im going to destroy that face today. Ill make sure you never have a chance to replace me again!
She took the stun baton from Leo, switched it on, and aimed it at my cheek.
I tried to stall, mentally counting the seconds until Clive should arrive. But it was no use.
Jessica advanced, the electric hum of the baton growing louder.
I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the searing pain. I cant scream, I told myself. I cant let Cici hear me scream.
The baton came down.
No!
My eyes flew open. A tiny body had thrown itself in front of me, and now it was crumpling to the floor.

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