Tears blurred my vision.
I didn’t remember her. I had no memories of being held by her, no voice to recall. Just a lifetime of absence.
“What happened to me?” I asked.
“A woman reported finding an abandoned baby outside a clinic the same week we lost Merinda,” he said. “We never connected the two. Not until now.”
“Nana…” I whispered.
“She wasn’t your grandmother,” he said gently. “But she must have loved you very much.”
I nodded, tears spilling freely now. “She did.”
Charles knelt in front of me, ignoring the polished floor beneath him.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry we didn’t find you sooner.”
I wanted to be angry.
But looking at him—at the grief etched into every line of his face—I couldn’t.
“I came here to sell it,” I said weakly. “I can’t pay my rent.”
His expression shifted, firm and certain.
“You will not sell your mother’s necklace,” he said. “And you will not lose your home.”
“I don’t want charity.”
“It’s not charity,” he replied. “It’s family.”
