Avery had done a DNA test for a school project. A long shot. A miracle. And she’d matched with a woman who had been searching for her niece for over a decade—the sister of her biological mother.
“She didn’t want anything,” Avery whispered. “She just wanted to know if I was okay.”
I read the last message. You don’t owe me anything. I just wanted you to know—you were loved before that night, too.
I looked at my daughter. My kid. The one who’d learned to ride a bike in our driveway. The one who still texted me memes during my shifts.
“You didn’t hide this from me,” I said softly. “You were scared.”
Tears spilled over. She nodded.
Behind us, Marisa scoffed. “So you’re just okay with this? She’s been lying.”
I stood up slowly.
