After They Gaslit Me Into A Asylum

I had spent the last month at a private hospice care center, sleeping by my terminally ill mother’s bedside.

I was dying to get back home. I couldn’t wait to surprise my five-year-old daughter, Lily, at our suburban mansion.

But the moment I pushed the front door open, my mother-in-law, Beatrice Carter, looked at me and frowned.

"Olivia? Isn't it the weekend? Why are you back here tutoring so early?"

Her words hit me like a physical blow. I froze. I am Georgina. Since when did I become Olivia, our daughter’s college-student tutor?