The woman standing in our guest bathroom only whispered:
“I’m sorry.”
Something inside me cracked.
“Sorry for what?”
“I don’t know you.”
I turned away because suddenly I couldn’t breathe.
Then she said something else.
“I don’t know Evelyn either.”
CHAPTER TWO — THE MOTHER WHO DIDN’T KNOW MY NAME
Daniel was waiting downstairs.
The moment he saw my face, he stood.
“What happened?”
I threw the photograph onto the coffee table.
“You knew.”
His expression changed.
Not guilt.
Fear.
That frightened me more.
“You knew who she was.”
“I suspected.”
