The next day, a woman stopped me outside the mansion.
“You must be Emma,” she said, studying me closely.
“Uh… yeah. Who are you?” I asked.
“I’m Evelyn,” she sighed. “I live next door.”
A pause.
“She didn’t tell you, did she? Sarah?”
A chill ran down my spine. “Tell me what?”
Evelyn pressed her lips into a tight line.
“That she never fought for you. That no one tricked her into giving you up. She did it because she wanted to.”
My stomach knotted.
“That’s not true. It can’t be,” I said quickly.
Evelyn didn’t flinch.
“I knew your grandfather. I knew her. I was there the entire time…”
I swallowed hard.
“She told me… not that.”
“What, honey?” Evelyn interrupted gently. “She told you she was young and scared? That she regretted it every day? That she cried for you?”
I nodded slowly.
Evelyn’s expression hardened.
“Emma, she partied. She partied hard. She spent every penny she had. When she got pregnant, she saw you as an inconvenience. Her life was suddenly… too different.”
