The Artist Called Pearl

“This one’s their biological daughter. Look how much she resembles Mrs. Whitmore. So elegant. So well-bred. Stella could never compare.”

“No wonder the artist calls herself Pearl. It’s her actual name.”

“One daughter gets a name from the stars. The other’s their precious pearl. Which one do you think they treasure? Maybe Stella heard the real daughter was coming home and hid because she couldn’t face it.”

Just as Vivian intended, the people around us mocked me.

They stepped on the adopted daughter to raise the biological one higher.

“Mom!”

Pearl came toward Vivian with light, quick steps and a sweet smile.

“Thank you for arranging my exhibition. I love it.”

“You shameless thief!”

I couldn’t keep the accusation inside.

But as she drew closer, I noticed something beneath the outer corner of her left eye.

A familiar red beauty mark.

Without thinking, I touched the same spot on my own face.

I had an identical mark.

In exactly the same place.

How could that be a coincidence?

Before I could make sense of it, a powerful force seized me.

Without warning, I was pulled into Pearl’s subconscious.

Broken images rushed over me.

My body lay on a cold operating table.

Someone was carefully cutting away the skin of my face and removing my corneas.

From beyond the image came Vivian’s tense voice.

“Be careful. Don’t damage the skin.”

Then the scene changed.

A bright, spotless hospital room.

Pearl stood in front of a mirror in a hospital gown, touching her smooth face.

“Is this really me?”

She sounded delighted.

Vivian stood behind her, looking profoundly satisfied.

“Mom, I can see. Everything’s so clear! And my face. I’m beautiful. I love the skin you found for me.”

A doctor smiled as he congratulated them.

“Miss Whitmore, both the facial skin graft and the corneal transplants were a complete success. You have an extraordinary mother. She found a perfect match for you.”

Vivian touched her daughter’s face. A fingertip lingered over the red mark beside her eye.

Her smile held a secret.

“I promised you the best of everything. And there’s another present waiting.”

I knew what that present was.

Pearl.

The artistic identity I had spent years building.

From the beginning, Vivian had intended to sacrifice every part of me for her daughter.

I struggled frantically to escape Pearl’s subconscious.

When I broke free, Vivian’s smiling face was right there.

Her cruelty and shamelessness drove me mad.

I threw myself at her.

“You vicious bitch!”

My fury was powerless.

I passed straight through her body, unable to disturb so much as a strand of hair.

Heaven was unfair.

I had never hurt anyone. Never knowingly done something I couldn’t live with.

Why had I died in such agony while the people who destroyed me got everything they wanted?

“My beautiful Pearl. I’m so proud of you.”

Vivian slipped an arm around her daughter’s waist and addressed the room with solemn pride.

“To our friends in the press and all our honored guests, this is our biological daughter. Our precious Pearl. And, as you now know, the gifted painter whose work you’ve admired for years. I hope you’ll continue to support her.”

“If she’s Pearl, then who am I?”

Grief and fury tore through my voice.

Nobody heard.

Every camera pointed at Pearl Whitmore’s radiant smile.

She had simply taken my place.

And she didn’t feel a moment’s shame.