When a stranger knocks on Emma’s door on her eighteenth birthday and claims to be her real mother, her world falls apart. Desperate to find out, she leaves everything behind, only to discover the terrifying truth: was she stolen or abandoned? And now that she has the key to a fortune, who really wants her, and who just wants what she has? I always knew I was adopted growing up; my parents never concealed it from me; it was just a fact, like my love of vanilla ice cream, brushing horses, or the fact that I needed a nightlight until I was twelve. They told me I was chosen, that they had waited years in hopes of having a child, and that they fell in love with me right away.
A happy teenage girl | Source: Midjourney And, of course, I believed them. I had a good life, a warm home, parents who never forgot my birthday, never missed a soccer game, and never made me feel like anything less than their daughter. They packed my school lunches, helped me with my homework, and comforted me during my first heartbreak. My mom and I used to make dinner together every day, regardless of whether I was working on a project or studying for an exam.
A mother and daughter together in the kitchen | Source: Midjourney It was home. I was home. I never thought twice about my origins, but in the weeks before my eighteenth birthday, odd things began to happen. The first one was an email from an address I didn’t recognize. Happy early birthday, Emma. I’ve been thinking about you. I’d love to talk.
A teenage girl using her laptop | Source: Midjourney No name, no context, so I ignored it. Next, I received a friend request on Facebook from a profile with no picture, Sarah W. The request sat in my inbox unanswered until the morning of my birthday, when my parents were in the kitchen preparing my special birthday breakfast, pancakes and bacon, as they always do, but something about the sound of the knock made my stomach knot.
Pancakes and bacon on a dish | Source: Midjourney
I had the feeling that a horrible omen was going to enter our lives, but I had no idea why.
“Honey, you’ll get the door.” As she took over the bacon, Mom inquired.
I wiped my hands and said, “Sure, Mom.”
I simply knew that things were going to change when I opened the door.
A woman stood on the porch, clutching the railing like it was the only thing keeping her upright. Her blonde hair hung in messy waves, dark circles shadowing her sunken eyes. Her gaze landed on me, and she sucked in a sharp breath, like she had been holding it for years.