No One Recognized Me After Beauty Treatment

Walking through the front doors of the estate after my medspa appointment, I noticed every single staff member stopping dead in their tracks to stare at me.

A wave of smug satisfaction washed over me. I laughed lightly.

I just went in for a chemical peel and some laser therapy. I didn't get a face transplant. Are you all really going to stare at me like that?

But the smile froze on my face when a heavy broom handle came swinging at my head.

"Who the hell are you? Why are you dressed in the Madam's clothes?"

The sharp crack of wood against my shoulder instantly extinguished any good mood I had left. Pain flared down my arm.

"Have you all lost your minds? You don't recognize me?"

Jessica, one of the younger maids, sneered at me with absolute disgust.

"You put on her designer clothes thinking you could seduce the boss and take her place? Keep dreaming! Mr. Wentworth wouldn't touch a cheap streetwalker like you with a ten foot pole!"

Before I could even process her words, Thomas, the head butler, rolled up his sleeves and shoved me hard in the chest.

"Crawl back to whatever gutter you came from! Get out before I have the guards break your legs!"

My head spun. I frantically dug into my purse, pulled out my compact mirror, and stared at my reflection.

I was completely stunned.

I had spent five hours and forty thousand dollars at the clinic. My face hadn't changed at all. Even the tiny blemish near my hairline was exactly where it had been this morning.

My stomach dropped. I lost all patience for whatever prank they were pulling.

"Enough! Stop messing around. Just leave me alone, I have a headache."

Even though I was the heiress who owned this entire estate, I had always treated the staff like family. I joked with them constantly. I thought this was just a tasteless gag.

But as I turned to walk up the grand staircase, a pair of rough, calloused hands violently grabbed the collar of my silk blouse.

"Speak! What is your agenda here?" Thomas demanded, his voice turning lethal. The eyes that used to look at me with grandfatherly warmth were now filled with pure venom.

My heart hammered against my ribs.

This man had worked for my family for thirty years. He watched me grow up. When I was seven, he literally threw himself over me to block a pot of boiling soup from scalding my face.

Now, he was looking at me like I was a monster.

The other servants began closing in, grabbing heavy brass bookends and fireplace pokers. The groundskeeper actually raised a pair of sharp pruning shears.

Panic seized my throat. I desperately fumbled with my designer bag and pulled out my driver's license.

"It's me! Victoria! We literally had breakfast together this morning! Thomas, stop playing games, this isn't funny anymore!"

Thomas snatched the bag from my hands. He dug through it, and his expression darkened into pure rage.

"So you not only impersonate her, but you steal her wallet too?" He spat on the marble floor. "If we don't teach you a lesson today, you'll think the Wentworth family is full of fools!"

Two massive security guards lunged forward, pinning my arms behind my back like I was a violent criminal.

The humiliation was unbearable. I thrashed wildly, fighting against their grip.

"Thomas! Have you gone senile? Who pulled you out of the cold when you were begging on the streets? It was me!" I screamed, tears of absolute frustration burning my eyes.

The only response I got was a heavy fist to my stomach.

They beat me, dragged me across the driveway, and threw me out the wrought iron gates like a bag of garbage.

I pulled myself up from the pavement, my entire body aching. Something was terribly, horrifyingly wrong.

I pulled out my compact mirror again and stared at it from every conceivable angle.

It was my face. It was undeniably me.

So why did my entire household suddenly treat me like a stranger?

Did my corporate rivals pay off my entire staff just to humiliate me on my own property?

The more I thought about it, the more suffocated I felt. I hailed a cab and headed straight to the downtown headquarters of Vanguard Corp, my husband Tristan's company.

Tristan was in the middle of an executive board meeting. I punched in the private passcode to the executive lounge and waited.

Ten minutes later, the double doors opened. Tristan walked out, surrounded by a dozen vice presidents and directors.

The second our eyes met, my emotional dam broke.

"Tristan..."

I sobbed, rushing forward to throw my arms around him.

We had been together since high school. Twenty years of history. He could never stand to see me cry. Usually, the moment a single tear fell, he would panic more than my own father ever did.

I was desperate to tell him what happened at the house. But before I could even get the words out, a brutal force shoved me backward.

My spine slammed into the marble wall. The impact knocked the wind out of me, and black spots danced in my vision.

"What the hell are you doing?"

I looked up. Tristan was ripping a silk handkerchief from his pocket, frantically scrubbing the lapel of his suit where I had touched him, looking absolutely nauseated.

He glared at me, his eyes cold and unfamiliar.

"Miss, have some self respect. I am a married man."

A chorus of mocking laughter erupted from the executives in the hallway.

"Did she not do her research? The CEO is famous for being obsessed with his wife. Try your cheap gold digger tricks somewhere else!"

Ignoring the shooting pain in my back, I scrambled up and grabbed his sleeve.

"It's me! I'm Victoria! I'm your wife! Are you keeping another woman behind my back? Is that what this is?"

Before I could finish the sentence, a stinging slap cracked across my cheek.

"You psycho!" Tristan hissed. "You don't deserve to speak her name! If you don't back off right now, I'll have you arrested for harassment."

Looking at his guarded, hostile eyes, ice flooded my veins.

Servants could be bought with enough cash. But Tristan? He was already wildly wealthy because of our marriage. He couldn't be bought.

This man who had worshipped the ground I walked on was clearly in on the conspiracy. He wasn't just trying to humiliate me.

Was he cheating? Was he having an affair with one of the maids and trying to gaslight me out of my own life?

I knew arguing in the lobby was pointless. The louder I screamed, the crazier I looked.

I had to find the truth myself.

Swallowing the bitter taste of blood in my mouth, I turned and walked out of the building to the sound of corporate executives laughing at my expense.

The second I hit the sidewalk, I pulled out my phone.

Before my father passed away, he had been a highly paranoid titan of industry. He insisted on wiring our entire estate with a hidden, encrypted surveillance network. Only I had the master access codes.

I always thought he was being dramatic. I never expected to actually need it to survive a betrayal.

I sat in a coffee shop for three hours, scrubbing through the estate's security footage from the last three years.

The conclusion was absolute.

The chances of Tristan cheating were basically zero. He played the perfect, devoted husband. He never brought women home. He never even lingered near the female staff. If a maid ever tried to flirt with him, she was fired the very next morning.

So if he wasn't having an affair, why the hell was he pretending not to know me?

Right as the question crossed my mind, my phone buzzed.

It was the elite private kindergarten. In all the violent chaos, I had completely forgotten to pick up my daughter.

A sudden spark of clarity hit me.

Everyone else could lie. Everyone else could pretend I didn't exist.

But Sophie was my flesh and blood. A five year old child couldn't fake a reaction.

If my daughter recognized me, it proved they were all conspiring against me. Once I had proof, I was going to systematically destroy Tristan and throw every single one of those backstabbing servants out onto the street.

My steps quickened as I approached the school gates.

The teacher walked Sophie out. Seeing her sweet, angelic little face instantly wiped away the nightmare of the afternoon.

"Sophie!" I waved, my heart leaping into my throat.

But Sophie froze. A flicker of deep hesitation crossed her face.

My chest tightened painfully. Was she going to say she didn't know me either?

I had basically built my entire world around this little girl. I missed million dollar board meetings just to attend her parent teacher conferences. I walked away from massive corporate acquisitions just to sit on the floor and help her build block castles.

"Mommy!"

The sweet, familiar voice finally rang out.

The relief was so intense my knees almost gave out.

I knew it! Tristan was playing a sick, twisted game. He was actually brave enough to orchestrate a public humiliation against me? Whatever his endgame was, I was going to make him bleed for it.

I smiled brightly and reached out to take her hand.

But as my fingers brushed hers, she instinctively flinched and pulled away.

I paused, confused. A second later, she cautiously reached back out and grabbed my hand.

"Baby, is something wrong with Mommy today?" I asked softly.

Sophie didn't answer. Instead, she pointed across the busy street to a brightly lit candy shop.

"Mommy, I want candy."

"You usually hate sweet things," I noted, frowning slightly.

"I just really want some today!" she whined, tugging my arm. "You promised if I got a gold star this week, I would get a reward!"

I gently pinched her soft cheek. "Okay, sweetheart. Anything you want."

We crossed the street and stepped into the candy store.

The second the glass door chimed shut behind us, two massive, heavily tattooed men stepped out from behind the aisles.

Before I could even scream, they grabbed my hair and slammed me face first into the hard linoleum floor.

Pure terror gripped me. My only instinct was to look up and find Sophie.

What I saw shattered my reality into a million pieces.

Tristan casually strolled into the candy shop. Sophie ran straight into his arms, burying her face in his expensive suit.

Tristan gently stroked her hair. "Good job, Sophie. You did perfectly."

My daughter's face showed zero panic. There were no tears. She just looked relieved, like she had just finished a chore.

My brain felt like it was being pierced by hot needles.

"Sophie..." I choked out, tasting blood on my lip. "Did you purposely lead me here?"

I stared at the little girl I had birthed. "I'm your mother! Why are you doing this to me?!"

I shifted my furious, desperate gaze to Tristan. "Is this your sick plan? You're using our own daughter as bait? Are you even human?!"

Tristan's eyes turned instantly dark and vicious. He stepped forward and drove the toe of his leather dress shoe directly into my ribs.

The agonizing pain forced me to curl into a tight ball.

"I warned you at the office," Tristan snarled, his voice dripping with venom. "I didn't think you'd actually be crazy enough to impersonate my wife and try to kidnap our child."

"Good thing I was prepared," Tristan sneered down at me. "Caught red handed. You're done playing games."

Sophie stepped out from behind his legs. She marched right up to me and started hitting my shoulders with her tiny fists.

"You're not my mommy!" she yelled, her face scrunched in anger. "You're a bad lady! You're a monster!"

She wasn't hitting me hard, but every single strike felt like a sledgehammer to my heart. My organs felt like they were bleeding out.

One of the thugs pulled out a police badge, flashing it quickly before yanking my arms behind my back and snapping heavy metal handcuffs onto my wrists.

"You are under arrest for identity theft and the attempted kidnapping of a minor," the undercover cop said coldly.

My mind went completely blank. The room was spinning.

I just went to a clinic for a facial. Why had my entire universe collapsed?

My staff threw me out. My husband accused me of sexual harassment. And now, picking up my own child was classified as kidnapping?

Was my face cursed? Did the world suddenly see a completely different person when they looked at me?

Before I could spiral any further, they dragged me out the back door and shoved me into an unmarked car.

I was processed at the precinct in a blur. Someone ripped off my designer clothes and forced me into a stiff, scratchy orange jumpsuit.

They locked me in a bleak interrogation room.

When the heavy metal door finally opened, Tristan and Sophie walked in and sat on the opposite side of the steel table.

Detective Sullivan walked in behind them, slamming his hands hard against the table.

"Victoria Wentworth has been missing for forty eight hours. Why are you wearing her custom clothes? How did you get her personal identification?"

Tristan lunged over the table, grabbing the collar of my jumpsuit, his eyes bloodshot with manufactured rage.

"What did you do to my wife?!" he roared. "If you touched a single hair on her head, I will make you beg for death!"

Sophie stood up on her chair, crying perfect, crocodile tears. "I want my mommy! Give her back!"

My chest physically ached. I looked at the two of them, tears streaming down my face.

"I am Victoria..." I whispered brokenly. "I'm right here..."

Detective Sullivan let out a harsh, mocking laugh. He tossed a thick manila folder onto the metal table.

"Drop the act. We already pulled your background check. Your name is Jane Doe, and you're a career con artist with a long sheet of fraud charges."

I felt like I had been struck by lightning. I stared at the mugshot printed on the first page of the file.

"You're saying... this is what I look like?" I asked, pointing at the picture of a rugged, unfamiliar woman.

Sullivan smirked. "Do you have amnesia? Do you not know what your own face looks like? Do you need a mirror?"

He pulled a small vanity mirror from the evidence box and shoved it in front of my face.

I grabbed it with shaking hands.

The woman staring back at me was me.

It was my face. Down to the exact placement of my fine lines and the shape of my eyes. I looked absolutely nothing like the mugshot of the con artist they just threw at me. Even a blind person couldn't mix us up.

Everything clicked.

As I tilted the mirror slightly, I caught Tristan's reflection in the background.

For a fraction of a second, the grieving, panicked husband dropped his mask. A chilling, victorious smirk flashed across his face.

In that split second, the fog cleared. I understood exactly what was happening.

I calmly closed the mirror and set it face down on the table. A slow, chilling smile spread across my lips.

"You want to know where Victoria is? I know exactly where she is."