“So she wasn’t pregnant,” I said.
“No. Not with my girl, and now you know the truth, it’s time to give her back.”
Instinctively, I stepped sideways, blocking the doorway.
“That’s not happening.”
The woman moved closer. “I came here in good faith, without the police. But if you’re going to be difficult…”
Somehow I managed to remain calm even though my heart pounded and every instinct screamed at me to do something—run, hide, anything to protect my kids.
“Rachel adopted her. I adopted her. That doesn’t go away just because you want it to.”
“It’s what she promised me!” The woman pointed at the letter. “It’s all there.”
I forced myself to keep reading, even though part of me wanted to tear the letter into pieces and pretend this woman had never knocked on my door.
I told you once that we would talk again when things were better for you. That we would figure it out. I don’t know if that was kindness or cowardice, but I know it gave you hope. And I’m sorry for that.
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