My Two Sisters and I Decided to Take a DNA Test. When the Results Came Back, We Discovered That One of Us Was Actually the Mother of the Other Two. But the Most Horrifying Part Was Finding Out Who Their Father Was

I stopped reading.

It was impossible.

How could I have given birth to children when I was only two years old?

I continued.

“1963 is not your real birth year either.

When we brought you into our home, you were already fourteen years old.

You were made to believe you were much younger, and over the years, we changed all the documents.”

I laughed out loud.

This was madness. I clearly remembered my childhood.

My school.

My birthday parties.

But then I remembered something strange.

I had almost no memories from before the age of seven.

And in our childhood photographs, there had always been something odd.

I looked noticeably older than my sisters.

The next day, the three of us visited our 89-year-old aunt, Elizabeth.

When I showed her the letter, she burst into tears.

“I promised your mother I would never tell anyone.”

“Who is their father?” I demanded.