My bakery had just opened, and my biological parents showed up at the door. The girl I was switched with at birth, now a renowned violinist, refused to acknowledge her birth mother. Fine by me. I didn’t want to go back to my biological parents either. 01 My bakery, "Annie's Oven," was finally opening, and I’d managed to get A-list celebrity Ethan Cole for the ribbon-cutting. A superstar appearance plus grand opening specials – those two things were enough to draw a massive crowd of customers and reporters, packing the street outside. Suddenly, a shriek pierced through the noise: "Annie! Mom and Dad are here for you!" A well-dressed woman, tears streaming down her face, pushed her way through the crowd. Her eyes scanned my face for maybe two seconds before she latched onto my employee, Ashley, and started sobbing uncontrollably. Everyone was stunned by the sudden interruption. The photographers didn't know where to point their cameras. The woman wailed as if no one else was there, "Honey, Mom looked for you for so long, I finally found you!" Ashley looked completely bewildered. She was fresh out of high school, hadn't put much thought into her appearance, and looked pretty plain next to this woman. The woman’s grip seemed incredibly strong. Ashley kept yelling, "I'm not her!" but couldn't break free. I sighed and stepped forward to help pull the woman off her. "Ma'am, maybe there's some misunderstanding?" This was my grand opening day, and I absolutely couldn't let anyone cause trouble. But with so many people watching, I tried my best to keep my voice gentle, even though inside I was already furious. The woman shot me a quick glance, annoyed. "Don't you interfere with our mother-daughter reunion…" "No, no, Ma'am, you've got the wrong person." Two men pushed through the crowd, one tall and thin, the other short and stout. It was the shorter man who spoke. He was panting, pointing right at me. "This is your daughter, the one who was taken from you years ago." Me: "…" The woman's expression twisted from shock into something truly distorted. Kidnapped, reunited, A-list celebrity… Those words together were pure dynamite for news headlines. The reporters went even wilder than before. Ethan quickly stepped in front of me, shielding me from the surging crowd. He firmly shut down the reporters: "Today's event is over. We'll release an official statement regarding everything that happened here later." With that, he guided me back inside the bakery. Behind us, the relentless reporters kept shouting questions. 02 After finally getting rid of the reporters and gawkers, my biological parents, the Davises, and I could finally sit down and talk. I called my adoptive mother, Martha, out from the back kitchen. Being a woman from a small town, she felt awkward and maybe a little guilty about the whole situation, and it took some coaxing to get her to come out. The tall, thin man and the woman were my biological parents. The short, stout man was Mr. Henderson, the coordinator from the family reunion website. Mrs. Davis looked incredibly embarrassed. Before I even walked into the room, she kept asking Mr. Henderson to double-check. "Mr. Henderson, are you absolutely sure you didn't make a mistake? Didn't you say my daughter was taken to some poor, backwoods place? How could she possibly own a business like this?" The coordinator assured her, "You can rest easy. Annie Davis has been registered on the reunion site for years. We've verified all the information. There's no mistake." Mrs. Davis still seemed unconvinced. How could the daughter she imagined living in poverty suddenly turn out to be the owner of a trendy bakery? Ethan Cole, Martha, and I sat together. Mrs. Davis started in with a sarcastic tone, "Well, isn't this interesting. A big movie star getting involved in messy family drama, just like regular folks. How rare." Ethan wasn’t known for his patience, and without reporters around, he didn't hold back. "Ma'am, you were just hugging the wrong girl a few minutes ago. That's what's rare." Mrs. Davis looked ready to explode, but Mr. Davis stopped her. "Honey, let's not forget why we're here. We came to find our daughter, not to start fights." Mrs. Davis visibly reined in her temper, gave Ethan a scrutinizing look, and then turned her gaze to me with a new, calculating glint in her eyes. I had a pretty good idea what she was thinking – that I was probably Ethan’s secret girlfriend, the sugar baby he’d set up in a fancy bakery in a prime location. My adoptive mom, Martha, huddled in a corner of the sofa, staying quiet, but her eyes kept darting towards a girl standing silently near the wall. Following her gaze, I realized there was someone else in the room. The girl was dressed all in black – black pants, black shirt. A baseball cap was pulled down low, and she wore a mask, making it impossible to see her face clearly. Mrs. Davis suddenly snapped at her, "Shouldn't you be home practicing your violin? What are you doing sneaking over here?" The girl hesitantly took off her hat and mask, revealing a delicate, timid face. She bore a slight resemblance to Martha. Her voice was soft. "I'm sorry, Mom. I was just… passing by." 03 Mrs. Davis was aggressive and condescending, demanding I move back home with them in three days. My response was firm. "That's impossible." She seemed genuinely surprised that I'd push back. She paused for a second, then her eyebrows shot up, and her tone became sharp and insistent. I shot up from my seat, suddenly past caring about appearances. "You didn't give a damn about me for over twenty years, and now you just show up, acting all high and mighty, expecting me to call you Mom?" "Mr. Henderson just said my information has been on that reunion website for years. I've lived in this city for years. If you really cared about finding me, we would have found each other long before today! Why now?" "Today is my bakery's grand opening! Have you asked even one single question about it? About how I got here? How I learned to bake, what struggles I faced? Did you care about any of that?" "You did nothing! You just crashed my opening day, ruined my business, all to satisfy your own self-important need to feel like a mother finding her long-lost daughter!" "How is what you did any different from that mob outside just looking for a spectacle?" All the reporters' questions today were about Ethan. Nobody cared about my bakery. The occasional question about me was just probing my relationship with him. I couldn't really blame them. Even my own biological mother seemed more interested in that. I felt my eyes start to burn, like something was about to spill over. Ethan gently squeezed my hand from behind me. Mrs. Davis clenched her fists, her lips pressed tight. Her throat moved, like she wanted to say something. Mr. Davis stepped in to smooth things over. "Annie's obviously got a lot on her plate, running a business, especially on opening day. It must be hectic. We should head home for now. We can come back another day when Annie has more time." Mr. Davis guided Mrs. Davis towards the door, the girl following closely behind them. Martha suddenly darted forward, grabbing the girl's hand, her voice trembling noticeably. "You're May, aren't you? You're May!" The girl looked startled. Mrs. Davis slapped Martha's hand away sharply. "Get away from her, you hick! I worked hard to raise my daughter into a renowned violinist. I won't have you showing up now to reap the benefits." Martha flinched back, silent. I stepped between them, retorting, "Well, isn't that a shame? This renowned violinist still came from my mom's womb." Mrs. Davis looked like she could spit fire. She threw one last cutting remark over her shoulder as she left. "You could have been a wealthy young lady, and instead, you choose to call some woman from the sticks 'Mom'!" Later that evening, back at my apartment, Ethan was still there. He leaned in conspiratorially, watching my face, then hesitantly told me about the girl. Apparently, after the Davises left, she had circled back alone, found Ethan, claimed she was a huge fan, and gave him her business card. I knew exactly what was going on. I playfully lifted the edge of Ethan's shirt, revealing a glimpse of his well-defined abs. "Well, well, look at my big celebrity friend. So popular now, even famous violinists are your fans." He'd improved. Usually, he'd blush up to his hairline, but now it was just the tips of his ears turning red. His hands hung obediently at his sides; he didn't stop me. I stopped teasing him and took the card. The name on it was Melanie Davis. Ethan said, almost pleadingly, "I'll throw it away right now." I glanced towards the kitchen where Martha was busy. "No need," I smiled. "Call her. Ask her out to dinner." Just as I said it, Ethan's phone rang. It was his agent. The second he answered, a loud yell came through the phone: "Were you seeing that small-town girl again?!" Ethan flushed, looking embarrassed, and quickly moved to another room to take the call. 04 Initially, the four of us started dinner together: me, Ethan, Martha, and Melanie. Melanie seemed to have snuck out without her parents knowing and looked a bit uncomfortable. When the moment felt right, I grabbed Ethan and pulled him out of the private dining room. As soon as we were outside, Ethan asked excitedly, "Okay, where are we going for dinner?" I pointed to the room right next door. "Not so fast. We're just next door for now." I pressed my ear against the wall, trying to listen in. Ethan looked a little grumpy about being sidelined. I mumbled a few reassuring words to him, then went back to eavesdropping. Ethan looked like he was about to lose his temper, but the argument in the next room erupted before he could. I burst through our door just in time to see Melanie pulling her hand away from Martha's grasp. "I'm sorry," Melanie said firmly. "I have my own life now. We don't have any connection anymore." Martha stood frozen. I rushed out after Melanie. Meanwhile, someone had recognized Ethan, and he was instantly surrounded, stuck in place. "Melanie Davis, stop right there!" I finally caught up to her and called out. "Is there something you need?" Melanie turned slowly, composed and calm, a stark contrast to the timid girl I'd seen before. I stepped closer. "Having a new life is your business, but Martha is your biological mother. Don't you care about her feelings at all?" "Oh?" She tilted her head, a slight smile playing on her lips. "And have you considered your biological mother's feelings?" I was momentarily speechless, stammering that the situations were different. Melanie tilted her head, thinking. After a long pause, she said, "Hmm, you're right. They are different." I didn't want to argue with her. I reminded her that the anniversary of her biological father's passing was in a week. As his daughter, she really should go home and be with Martha on that day. She didn't agree directly. Instead, she smiled faintly. "My parents' wedding anniversary is in three days. You should come for dinner too." Again, I was speechless. I knew she was using Martha to pressure me. A girl raised in a wealthy family clearly knew how to play games. Pathetically, I felt I had no choice but to agree. As I was leaving, I noticed a huge poster of Melanie advertising her concert tour hanging in the plaza. Right next to it was an ad featuring Ethan. Seeing their posters side-by-side like that… it looked pretty good. Suddenly, something sharp pricked at my heart. 05 Thanks to Ethan, a lot of fans and influencers started hanging around my bakery, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. I didn't mind. Money is money, right? Taking it from fans isn't shameful. One day, an influencer filming a video suddenly shrieked at the top of his lungs, "Oh my god! There's a cockroach in this bun! Gross!" "Eww!" Customers immediately crowded around. I had to push my way through from the outside just to see what was happening. By the time I saw the actual cockroach, the influencer had already finished showing it off to his camera. He held up his "trophy" triumphantly, smirking at me. The other customers started freaking out, yelling and complaining. Some even looked like they wanted to trash the place. It was chaos. I grabbed a glass jar from the counter and smashed it on the floor. "Everybody quiet down!" I yelled. People finally stopped shouting. I climbed onto a table, looking down at everyone. "As the owner, I promise I will get to the bottom of this. Today, all the buns are on the house!" "And," I turned to the few fans still recording with their phones, "This bakery means everything to us. Please don't spread rumors before we know the facts." Seeing me address them, the fans quietly put their phones away. Hearing about free food, the other customers started calming down, trying to smooth things over. The influencer wasn't happy. He pointed at me, shouting, "She's just trying to shut this down! Don't listen to her! Keep making noise!" "Who wants to make noise?" A strong, authoritative voice came from the doorway. The police had arrived. I'd told Ashley to call them as soon as the influencer started his act. Thankfully, they got here quickly. Faced with the police, the influencer lost his bravado and meekly went aside to give his statement. That evening, I got a call from an unknown number. "Hello?" "Hello, is this Annie? It's Mom." A strange chill ran down my spine. "What is it?" "I heard… something happened at your shop. Do you need Mom to help you out?" "Help me?" "Yes, Mom knows a lot of people in the media. I can make sure they don't report this incident. It won't affect you at all." "You can really help me?" I asked, skeptical. "Of course! And that influencer today, he's just trash. Did he try to blackmail you? Don't worry, Mom can handle everything." I let out a dry laugh. "How did you know he tried to blackmail me? Is he a friend of yours?" After the police left, the influencer had tried to demand hush money from me, but he did it when no one else was around. I hadn't told a soul. "Ah... um..." Mrs. Davis stammered on the other end, unable to form a coherent sentence. I scoffed, calling her bluff directly. "Let me guess. You hired that influencer today, didn't you? Arranged for him to cause trouble, so you could swoop in and 'fix' it, making me feel like I owe you?" Mrs. Davis's voice became urgent. "Annie, Mom really just wants to make things right with you. I also looked into your relationship with Ethan Cole. I know you're just childhood friends from the same town, nothing more." My voice turned cold. "If you claim to be my mother, why didn't you just ask me? Why did you have someone investigate me? What if I was Ethan's sugar baby? Would you have decided not to acknowledge me then?" Mrs. Davis sounded frantic now, with a faint, almost undetectable sob in her voice. "I'm just a normal person! I just want my daughter back! What's wrong with that?" "Right, nothing's wrong with that. But you always try to do it by making me bow down first, making me compromise. Why can't you just respect me?" "I'm a normal person too! I have dignity! This bakery is something I built with my own blood, sweat, and tears! Did your investigation tell you that?" Silence on the other end. I laughed bitterly. "Apparently not. Mrs. Davis only cares about my connection to a superstar, not about me!" "You went through all this trouble, staged this whole drama, just so you could play the savior and have me grovel at your feet for mercy, is that it?" "Well, I'm sorry, Mrs. Davis, but I'm afraid that's not going to happen. I got where I am today by myself, not by relying on some man. I don't need your help. I can handle this on my own." I hung up the phone, cutting off a faint, half-formed "I'm sorry" that I couldn't quite make out. Raising a hand to my face, I was startled to find tears streaming down my cheeks. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a shadow move in the corner of the room. "Come on out," I said wearily. "You've heard enough." Ethan emerged, looking sheepish. He started to speak, but was interrupted by his phone ringing sharply. "Hey, man, yeah, I know," Ethan said into the phone, his voice suddenly deferential. "Tomorrow's press conference, I'll nail it! Don't worry, I've memorized all the answers to those questions. It's all good." Ethan was practically bowing to the phone, but the person on the other end didn't seem ready to let him off the hook. "And you know how to handle questions about that girl, right?" The voice from the phone was loud, filling the small apartment. Ethan's face stiffened. He answered quietly, "Yeah." A long silence followed. Ethan opened his mouth to say something to me, but I cut him off. "It's late. Don't you have that press conference tomorrow? You should go." Without another word, I pushed him out the door. He kept knocking, wanting me to let him back in, but I wouldn't.
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