Chapter 2 You Don’t Belong Here
Yvette's POV
I followed my mother into the living room. Father was talking with an old man with a white beard.
The old man was holding a cup of tea. When he looked up, I was so scared my legs went weak.
That face was exactly the same as the one on the wall in the basement.
The old man set down his teacup and stood up, showing a kind smile. "Yvette, we meet again."
He reached out his hand toward me.
I stepped back in fright, hiding behind my mother, pointing at the old man with a trembling voice: "Mom... he, he's the monster from the basement..."
"Yvette!" Father shouted, his expression stern. "Don't be so rude!"
I shuddered at his yelling.
"Come sit down," Father ordered.
I didn't move, shrinking behind my mother like a frightened kitten.
Mother gently patted my hand and said softly, "Don't be afraid, Yvette. Wetherell is a good person. He's here to help you."
Her voice was gentle, just like when she usually comforted me.
But I still noticed something different about her. Her pupils were somewhat unfocused, staring into the distance, her expression wooden.
I turned to look at Father. He was the same, his eyes in that same unfocused state, as if under some kind of curse.
A fear I'd never felt before spread from the bottom of my heart.
"What did you do to my parents?" I glared at Wetherell and demanded loudly.
"Just a little mind control." Wetherell's tone was casual. "Don't worry, this kind of mind control won't harm them at all."
My whole body went limp against the wall, my voice shaking: "Why are you doing this? Who are you really?"
"I told you, I'm the headmaster of a magic school." Wetherell looked at me, the smile on his face slowly fading. "Yvette, the truth is you don't belong here at all."
I didn't answer, clenching my fists and staring at him hard.
"You're not Sylvan and Martha's daughter," he said.
Those words hit my chest like a hammer.
"What are you talking about?" I shouted.
I'd lived with my parents for eighteen years. How could I not be their child?
"Eighteen years ago, in the newborn ward at St. Mary's Hospital, a nurse mixed up the ID bracelets of two babies." Wetherell's voice was calm. "You were that switched baby."
My head buzzed.
"No, no..." I kept backing away, shaking my head in disbelief. "You're lying."
"I'm not lying." Wetherell pulled out a folded paper from his suit pocket, unfolded it, and handed it to me. "This is a copy of the hospital records from that year. You can see for yourself."
I stood there, staring at the paper, but didn't reach out to take it.
"Even if that's true, what does it have to do with you?" My voice started trembling. "Why are you looking for me?"
Wetherell was silent for a moment, then lowered his head, his voice hoarse: "Because your birth mother was my student."
"Her name was Cecilia." Wetherell's eyes looked sad. "She was one of the most talented magicians in the last fifty years. And the best student I ever taught."
He took my hand, his tone gentle: "Yvette, don't you want to meet your birth parents?"
I froze, then looked around at this place where I'd lived for eighteen years, now being told I didn't belong here.
No matter what, I couldn't accept it.
"No, I don't. I won't go with you," I said stubbornly.
Wetherell looked at me, and after a long pause, sighed: "Do you want to keep staying here, keep causing trouble, making your mom and dad clean up your messes?"
My lips were trembling, and my heart started to waver.
"You're eighteen years old now, Yvette." Wetherell said. "In a few years, your parents will be old. Your father has a bad back that hurts when he moves things; your mom has high blood pressure and needs to take medicine long-term. Do you think you can take care of them?"
"I can..."
"You can what?" His tone carried a trace of pity. "You can make a herd of cows stampede just by feeding them. You can dump food on customers' heads just by carrying plates. Are you sure you can take care of them?"
I was speechless, tears falling despite myself.
Wetherell was right.
I couldn't do anything right. Staying here would only continue to burden my parents.
My life was like a tunnel with no end in sight, getting darker the further I went, narrower the further I walked.
"Yvette..." Mother's voice came from behind me. "Mr. Wetherell is right. You should go. This is your chance."
I turned to look at her. Her eyes were still unfocused like that, like a soulless doll.
I suddenly felt very scared. If my parents knew I was leaving and never coming back, how heartbroken would they be?
"What about them?" I asked Wetherell, my voice very soft.
"After you leave, they'll return to normal." Wetherell said. "Their real daughter will be sent back. I'll modify their memories to make them think you've always been away at school, that you never left."
"That means..." My throat felt blocked by something. "They'll forget me."
Wetherell was silent for a few seconds, then slowly spoke: "Yvette, showing love for your parents doesn't only mean staying with them."
I closed my eyes, tears sliding down from the corners.
I thought of how my parents had cared for me in every way over these eighteen years. Even though I always caused trouble, they never abandoned me.
I knew that staying would only make me a burden to them. It was time to set them free.
"Okay, I'll go with you." I opened my eyes, as if making some kind of resolution.
Wetherell nodded with relief.
I turned to look at my parents.
Father still maintained that stiff posture, standing by the coffee table, a dazed smile on his face.
Mother stood behind me, like a wax figure.
I walked over and hugged my mother.
Her body was warm, but there was no response.
I buried my face in her shoulder, took a deep breath, and said softly, "Mom, Dad, goodbye."
Then I let go and turned toward the door.
Wetherell stood outside the door. At the end of the alley was a black vintage sedan, styled like something from the last century, but the body was polished bright, gleaming with a dark light under the streetlamps.
Someone sat in the driver's seat, wearing a black uniform, the brim of their cap pulled very low, their face unclear.
Wetherell opened the back door for me, gesturing for me to get in.
I bent down and climbed into the car. The interior space was much larger than it looked from outside.
The car started, the engine sound very quiet, almost inaudible.
I tried to look out the window, but the glass was dark. I could only see streetlamps passing by one after another, like a flowing river of light.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"Los Angeles," Wetherell said. "Our school is there."
