Part 2 : Claire stared at Sophie as if the room had disappeared around them.

“What did you just say?”

Sophie’s hands were shaking.

“They told me you were my mother.”

Claire immediately turned toward Rebecca.

“That’s impossible.”

Rebecca covered her mouth and started crying.

But Claire’s mother suddenly stood up.

“No. It isn’t.”

The entire room went silent.

Sixteen years earlier, Claire had undergone emergency surgery after a car accident. The doctors told her she had lost the baby she was carrying.

At least, that was what her family had told her.

Claire slowly shook her head.

“I was never pregnant.”

Her mother couldn’t look at her.

“You were. Almost six months.”

Daniel backed away from the table.

Claire noticed.

“You knew?”

Daniel said nothing.

That silence was enough.

Claire grabbed his jacket.

“YOU LET ME BELIEVE MY BABY DIED?”

Daniel finally broke.

“Because your mother said you wouldn’t survive the truth!”

“What truth?!”

The retired nurse stepped forward.

“The baby survived.”

Claire froze.

The nurse explained that after the accident, Claire had been unconscious for days. Sophie had been delivered prematurely but survived.

Then Claire’s mother had made a decision without her.

She arranged for the baby to disappear.

Rebecca agreed to have her name placed on several documents to hide Claire’s connection to the child.

Claire looked at Sophie.

Sixteen years.

Sixteen birthdays.

Sixteen years stolen from her.

But Sophie wasn’t finished.

“There’s something else.”

She pulled another photograph from her bag.

Two newborn babies were lying beside each other.

Claire stared at it.

“Why are there two babies?”

The nurse’s face changed.

Claire’s mother whispered:

“Please… don’t.”

Sophie placed another DNA report on the table.

“I wasn’t the only baby born that night.”

Claire looked at Daniel.

Then at her mother.

“Where is the other child?”

Nobody answered.

Until Rebecca whispered:

“You already know him.”

Claire felt her blood turn cold.

“Who?”

Rebecca looked toward the family photographs hanging on the wall.

And pointed at Claire’s nineteen-year-old son.

“He’s not your son, Claire.”

“He’s your son’s twin brother.”

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