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Instead, she reached into her purse.
“Promise you won’t scream when I show you this.”
She handed me a faded photograph, her hands trembling.
“My mom and I figured you might not remember right away… but before you panic, just look at her first.”
I took the photo.
And everything stopped.
It showed a little girl — about six — standing beside a woman in a white apron, sunlight glowing around them.
I recognized the place instantly.
My childhood pool.
And the woman…
“Martha?” I whispered.
Claire nodded. “She’s my mother.”
It hit me all at once.
Martha — our housekeeper. The woman who used to sneak me cookies, sit beside me when I was sick, and comfort me when no one else did.
“You’re okay, baby. I’m right here.”
Those words echoed in my memory.
“She was fired,” I said hoarsely. “My mother accused her of stealing a bracelet.”
Claire’s voice tightened. “She didn’t steal anything. Your mother found it later — but never told anyone. By then, my mom’s reputation was destroyed. No one would hire her.”
I felt sick.
“I remember… she used to pack extra food for me.”
Claire smiled sadly. “She always talked about you. She said you were kind… but also the loneliest child she’d ever seen.”
My chest tightened.
All the warmth I remembered from childhood… came from someone my parents discarded.
“Why did you say yes to my proposal?” I asked.
Claire squeezed my hand. “At first, I almost said no. But when I told my mom your name… she knew exactly who you were.”