When I arrived at Mom’s nursing home, I was hit with a bombshell: she’d been discharged a week ago. But I never signed her out.
The name they gave me? Lauren — my estranged sister, who vanished a decade ago after a brutal fight with Mom. Now, suddenly, she’d reappeared and taken her—with forged papers and no warning.
Frantic, I searched everywhere. Then I found it: Lauren’s Instagram, The Sunrise Caregiver. There was Mom, looking confused, beside a beaming Lauren. The caption read, “Caring for the woman who gave me life. #FamilyFirst.” A donation link sat below. She had raised over $1,000.
Lauren was rewriting history—turning herself into a saint while erasing me completely.
But I’m not staying silent. Not about Mom. Not anymore.
