Clara read over my shoulder.
“She knew you,” she whispered.
“Yes,” I said. “She did.”
The emotional knot I had carried for so long began to loosen—not disappear, not heal completely, but loosen. I had thought I was alone because Jason had built a world where every mirror showed only his version of me.
Fragile.
Dependent.
Forgettable.
But my mother had seen me.
My sister had written to me.
My father had failed me and loved me at the same time, which was harder to hold than hatred but more human than the story I had been given.
Daniel’s phone buzzed.
He checked it, and his face changed.
“What?” I asked.
“Priya just received confirmation from the court examiner. The Crown Ridge drive contains encrypted files tied to the Mitchell Family Foundation.”
