My heart began pounding.
“And what did she say?”
Mary turned the phone screen toward me.
“She sent me a picture of Emily’s real mother.”
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I looked at the photograph.
The same red curls.
The same green eyes.
The same smile.
But the most terrifying thing wasn’t the woman’s face.
The most terrifying thing was that I recognized her. And I knew something my sister was never supposed to find out…
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“Sarah, why aren’t you saying anything?” Mary asked. “Do you know this woman?”
I stared at the photograph.
Her name was Linda.
Twelve years earlier, she’d been my closest friend. We’d met at a hospital where we were both receiving treatment.
I was thirty, divorced, and desperate to become a mother. Linda was struggling financially while caring for her sick mother.
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We became inseparable.
One afternoon, she held my hand and whispered, “I’ve never had a sister, Sarah, but sometimes I feel like you’re mine.”