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“My daughter?” I repeated.
She swallowed.
The noise inside dipped, like the house itself was listening.
Daniel appeared at my side.
“What did you just say?” he asked, voice tight.
“I’m her biological mother,” she repeated.
“Please. Can we talk somewhere private?”
We stepped onto the porch and pulled the door mostly closed.
“We were told Sophie’s birth mother surrendered her rights years ago,” I said.
The woman let out a small, ugly laugh.
“What story?” Daniel asked.
She stared at the railing.
“When Sophie was a baby, they did some bloodwork,” she said.
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