"I owe you an explanation," Victoria said. "When I dropped my fork, it was shock. I saw the mark on your wrist."
"The birthmark," Hannah said. "The star."
"Yes," Victoria said. "My daughter had a mark exactly like it, on her right wrist."
Hannah laughed nervously. "A lot of people have birthmarks, Mrs. Ashford. My mom said mine looked like a tiny stamp."
Hannah felt her stomach tighten. "Mrs. Ashford, I think you are confusing me with someone else. I have parents. I have a mom and a dad in Portland. I grew up there. I am not missing."
"I know that is what you believe," Victoria said gently. "I am not here to frighten you. Just hear me out."
"Tell me what?" Hannah asked.
Victoria took a slow breath. "Twenty-five years ago, I had a baby girl named Gwen. When she was three months old, I took her to the hospital for a fever. I fell asleep, and when I woke up, she was gone."
"Gone?" Hannah whispered.
"Taken," Victoria said. "The police searched everywhere. We never found her. I have lived with that night for twenty-five years."
"That is awful," Hannah said. "I am so sorry. But I was born in Portland. My parents raised me. You have the wrong person."
"I may," Victoria said. "I pray I am not hurting you by saying this, but I need to ask you one more thing. May I?"
Hannah hesitated, then nodded. "One more thing."
"When my daughter was born, the nurses put a tiny IV line in her left wrist," Victoria said. "It left a very small, thin scar. Do you have a scar like that? On your left wrist?"
The room went quiet.
"Everyone has scars," Hannah said, her voice thinner than she wanted it to be. "I fell off my bike when I was seven. I cut myself cooking. I do not remember every little mark."
"Will you show me?" Victoria asked. "Please. Just your left wrist."
Hannah wanted to say no. But something in Victoria's voice made her hold out her left hand.
Victoria went pale. Her hand flew to her mouth, and her eyes filled with tears. "Oh, my dear girl."
"Stop," Hannah said, pulling her hand back. "Stop looking at me like that. It is just a scar. It could be from anything. You cannot look at a little line on my wrist and decide I am your daughter."
"You are right," Victoria said. "A scar is not proof. A birthmark is not proof. That is why I am asking you to let us find out for certain."
"Find out how?" Hannah asked.
"With a DNA test," Victoria said. "A simple cheek swab. If it says no, I will never bother you again. If it says yes, we will talk slowly, at whatever pace you choose."
Hannah shook her head. "If I take that test, I am saying my whole life might be a lie. I am saying my parents might not be my parents. Do you know what that would do to them? To me?"
"I do," Victoria said. "I have thought about nothing else for twenty-five years. And I would never ask this if I were not certain you deserve the truth, whatever it is."
"My family is in Portland," Hannah said. "My mom is Sarah Brooks. My dad is Tom Brooks. They raised me. That is my family."
"I believe you," Victoria said. "Nothing about a test would erase that."
Victoria reached into her purse and took out a small white card. She slid it across the table. It was plain and elegant, with her name and a phone number printed in dark letters.
"This is my card," Victoria said. "My direct number. You can call me any time, day or night. You can also decide never to call me, and I will understand. But please, take it. And please, think about the test."
Hannah picked up the card. "I do not know what to say."
"You do not have to say anything," Victoria said. "Go home. Rest. Talk to the people you trust. I will be here when you are ready, for as long as it takes."
Hannah walked her to the door and watched her step out into the rain.
The drive home felt longer than usual. She kept glancing at her wrists at red lights.
At home, she sat on the edge of her bed with Victoria's card still in her hand.
"Mom?" Hannah said when Sarah answered, her voice breaking on the single word. "It is me. I am sorry to call so late. I just needed to hear your voice."
"Honey, what is wrong?" Sarah asked at once. "Are you all right? Are you hurt?"
"I am fine," Hannah said. "I just had a strange night at work. A woman said I looked like someone she lost."
"Oh, sweetheart," Sarah said, her voice soft and warm. "People see what they want to see sometimes. You are our daughter, Hannah. You have always been our daughter. Nothing can change that."
"I know," Hannah said. "I know that. I just needed to hear you say it."
"Then hear it again," Sarah said. "You are our daughter. Your dad and I love you more than anything. If you need us, we will drive up tomorrow. Just say the word."
Hannah closed her eyes. "No, do not drive up. I am okay. I will call you tomorrow."
She hung up and sat in the dark, holding the card in one hand and her phone in the other.
Chapter 3: The Silver Bracelet
Hannah had not slept. She had lain awake replaying every word Victoria Ashford had said after her shift. Then her phone buzzed with a polite text from Victoria asking if they could meet for coffee, and Hannah typed yes before she could talk herself out of it.