Effie's jaw clenched so hard I could see the muscles work. She turned to me.
"Having fun playing me for a fool?"
"Lock her in with Brutus. Let her have all the fun she wants."
The instant I caught the flash of triumph in the woman's eyes—and in Samuel's—I raised my voice.
"I'm not lying! This woman is not my mother! And my name isn't June Delgado."
"My name is Juliana Perry. She doesn't even know my real name. How could she possibly be my mother?"
That was when Effie noticed: the name printed on the diploma and degree certificate in my hands was, in fact, Juliana Perry.
The moment doubt flickered in her eyes, Samuel stepped forward to close the gap.
"What mother doesn't know her own daughter? She's June Delgado!"
"She'll forge documents if that's what it takes to con you."
"One name? Who knows if she just made it up because she's run too many scams and needed to cover her tracks."
I told Effie to send someone to the police records office and check for herself.
My name was Juliana Perry, and the parents listed on my household registration were absolutely not this woman.
Half-believing, half-doubting, Effie called the records office. The answer came back quickly.
My name was indeed Juliana Perry, and the woman standing before us was not my mother.
But even under Effie's razor-sharp stare, the woman insisted she was my birth mother.
"Sweetheart, I divorced your abusive, cheating father when you were three. I raised you all by myself."
"You can't change your surname just because that bastard promised to buy you a car and a house—you can't just throw your own mother away!"
"He's lying to you! Nobody in this world loves you more than your mother does!"
The woman sobbed through every word, then pulled out a DNA test—and it confirmed she really was my biological mother.
Only then did I remember. When I was little, my father had told me the woman living with us wasn't my real mother.
My birth mother was a gambling addict who'd gotten so desperate at the card table she tried to wager me as her stake.
My father couldn't stomach that kind of depravity. He divorced her, packed us up overnight, and cut her off completely.
We didn't keep a single photograph of her. No wonder I hadn't recognized her.
But no one believed my explanation.
Even Eric Walker, who had been silent until now, rose to his feet.
"Juliana Perry, I'd like to believe you."