Truth, Unraveled
Outside, under the cold halo of the streetlamp, Nathaniel knelt before her.
“Do you have anything from your infancy? A birthmark? Keepsake?”
She touched her collarbone. “Star-shaped birthmark. I was found wrapped in a pink baby blanket… It had the letter ‘E’ sewn on it.”
Nathaniel’s legs nearly gave out. “That blanket… was hers.”
He pulled out a worn photo from his wallet — himself as a younger man, holding a newborn wrapped in that exact pink blanket.
“You’re my daughter, Aurora.”
She gasped. “That can’t be… I was told I was abandoned.”
And then, Vivienne appeared.
“You’ve said enough,” she hissed.
Nathaniel turned, eyes blazing. “You knew. All this time.”
She didn’t flinch. “You were too obsessed with her. I did what I had to do.”
“You stole my child,” he said, voice cracking. “You let me mourn a daughter who was alive — for fifteen years.”
Vivienne’s voice was ice. “You would have left me. For her. I couldn’t let that happen.”
