Chapter 6
I met Claire three days later.
The facility smelled like bleach and flowers pretending to be cheerful.
A patient advocate led me to a sunroom.
Claire sat in a wheelchair near the window.
Thin.
Pale.
Her eyes were sharp despite everything.
When I said my name, her fingers tightened on the blanket.
“Emily,” she whispered.
I froze.
“You know me?”
Her mouth trembled.
“Photo.”
Ryan had shown her my photo.
Or Diane had.
I did not know which answer was worse.
I knelt beside her.
“Claire, Lily was given your medication.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“No.”
The word was small, but clear.
“Did Diane give you medicine?”
Claire nodded.
“Too much.”
The advocate leaned closer.
“Claire, did you want Diane as your guardian?”
Claire shook her head hard.
“Ryan.”
She began to cry.
“Ryan said dead.”
My chest hurt.
“He told people you died.”
Her face twisted with grief.
Then she grabbed my wrist.
“Baby.”
“What baby?”
She pointed weakly toward a drawer.
The advocate opened it and found a photo.
Claire holding a newborn girl.
On the back was written:
Mara. My daughter. Diane took her.
The room tilted.
I whispered, “Ryan has another child?”
Claire sobbed.
“Find.”
That one word changed everything again.
May you like
Diane had not only drugged my daughter.
She had already stolen one.
