I looked down at the papers between us.
I couldn’t promise that nothing would change.
Something already had.
But I also couldn’t blame my sister for a mistake neither of us understood.
“Leave the documents with me,” I said quietly.
She nodded.
Before leaving, Nora hugged me.
“Whatever happens, Claire, I love Ellie.”
I held her for a moment.
“I know you do.”
That evening, I opened the drawer beside my bed.
Inside was the small keepsake box I’d guarded for five years.
I lifted the lid.
Lucy’s hospital bracelet lay exactly where I’d left it.
The plastic had yellowed slightly.
But her name was still clearly visible.
I carried it into the kitchen and placed it beside the genetic report.
Two pieces of evidence.
Two entirely different stories.
One said my daughter had died shortly after birth.
The other suggested she might be alive.
