I could barely breathe.
“You stole my child,” I whispered.
Richard lowered his eyes.
“We gave her a good life,” he said.
“A good life?” I shouted. “You let me carry an empty coffin in my heart for twenty years!”
Sophia began to cry.
She told me she had always felt that something was wrong. Patricia had finally admitted that she was not her biological mother, but she had refused to tell her who her real mother was.
With trembling hands, I called Emma.
When Emma arrived, the moment the two sisters saw each other, they both froze.
It was like watching two missing halves of the same soul finally find their way back together.
They had the same smile. The same nervous habit of twisting a ring around their finger. Even their voices sounded alike.
