There was no way I could be mistaken.
“Who is this child?” I asked.
The man didn’t answer.
The young woman standing beside him stepped forward and gently took the photograph.
“It’s me,” she said.
I looked at her.
She appeared to be around thirty years old. She had brown hair, light brown eyes, and something strangely familiar about her face.
“Who are you?”
The woman answered in a barely audible voice.
“My name is Lily. And I think we’re sisters.”
I instinctively grabbed the doorframe.
“That’s impossible. I’ve never had a sister.”
“I know. They told me the same thing.”
Just then, Grandma came toward us.
She looked at the man, then at Lily.
“David… you promised you’d never bring her here.”
The man lowered his head.
“Margaret, I can’t stay silent anymore. Lily knows everything.”
Grandma pressed a hand to her chest.
