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The drive to Marissa’s house took fifteen minutes through the storm-darkened streets. Her windshield wipers struggled against the downpour, and twice she nearly turned back. But something pulled her forward—the years of questions that demanded answers tonight.

Marissa’s house sat dark except for a single light in what looked like the living room. Kaitlin parked on the street, engine idling, watching that warm glow through the rain. What was she doing? It was nearly midnight. Any reasonable person would wait until morning, would prepare what to say, would—

A figure moved past the window. Still awake.

Kaitlin killed the engine and ran through the rain to the front porch, knocking before she could lose her nerve.

The door opened slowly. Marissa Lane stood there in a worn bathrobe, her face puffy from crying. On the coffee table behind her, Kaitlin could see scattered photographs and what looked like a baby blanket.

“Kaitlin.” The name came out as barely a whisper.

“You knew.” The words burst from Kaitlin’s throat, raw and accusing. “When Matt and I came to interview you, you knew who I was.”

Marissa’s face crumpled. “Please, come in. You’re soaked.”

“Answer me.” Kaitlin stayed on the porch, rain dripping from her hair. “You looked at me and you knew.”

“Yes.” The admission was soft but clear. “The moment I saw you.”

“And you said nothing.” Kaitlin’s voice cracked. “You sat there and talked about the mansion, about your work there, and you never once…”

“What was I supposed to say?” Marissa stepped back and opened the door wider. “Please. Come inside. Let me explain.”

Kaitlin entered reluctantly, dripping on the worn carpet. She saw Marissa’s living room with new eyes. It was filled with evidence of a life lived. Photos of Ryan at various ages lined the mantle. Her brother, who’d grown up with everything she’d been denied.

“I’ll get you a towel—”

“I don’t want a towel.” Kaitlin’s hands clenched at her sides. “I want to know why. Why you gave me away. Why you took their money and never looked for me.”

Marissa sank onto the sofa, suddenly looking older than her years. “You know.”

“I’ve been helping with the investigation. The sheriff only shared the facts. Not the why.” Kaitlin remained standing, needing the height advantage. “What was I to you? A paycheck?”

“Don’t.” Marissa’s eyes flashed with sudden fire. “Don’t reduce it to that.”

“Then tell me what it was!” The words ripped from Kaitlin’s chest. “Because all I know is that you sold me to strangers. And then two years later you had Ryan, and you kept him.”

“My life was different then. Ryan had a father.”

“So I was disposable because mine didn’t stick around?” Kaitlin heard her voice rising but couldn’t stop it. “Do you have any idea what it’s like growing up knowing you weren’t wanted? That someone looked at you and decided you weren’t worth keeping?”

Marissa was crying now, tears streaming down her face. “I was twenty-one years old. I had nothing.”

“You had me!”

Marissa pressed her hands to her face, shoulders shaking with sobs. When she finally looked up, her face was raw with decades of grief.

“You want to know the truth?” Her voice was barely audible. “I’ve regretted it every single day for thirty-four years. Every. Single. Day.”

Kaitlin felt her anger wavering but clung to it like armor. “Then why?”

“Because I was terrified!” Marissa stood suddenly, matching Kaitlin’s stance. “I was alone on an island where I knew no one, working in a kitchen for minimum wage, living in a room so small I could touch both walls. The man who’d gotten me pregnant had vanished. I had no family, no support, no future. And these respected men, doctors and administrators, told me I was being selfish wanting to keep you.”

“So you just believed them?”

“They wore me down.” Marissa’s voice dropped. “Every day for weeks. How could I give you a good life? How would I afford medical care, education, opportunities? They painted picture after picture of the life you’d have with your adoptive parents—good people who couldn’t have a child of their own—versus the poverty you’d have with me.”

Marissa walked to the coffee table, picking up one of the scattered photos. “This is the only picture I have of you. They took it right before…” Her voice broke. “Three days old. You were so perfect.”