“Mom, you’re scaring me,” she said. “What is this?”

I reached for the manila folder with my free hand and slid it toward her.

“I found some documents,” I said. “And I ran a test.”

I opened the folder, revealing the DNA report on top.

“This is a comparative DNA analysis,” I said softly. “I took a sample of your hair, and I compared it to a sample from someone else.”

Claire looked down at the white paper.

Her eyes scanned the columns of numbers, stopping on the bold percentage at the bottom.

“Ninety-nine point nine percent,” she read aloud. “What does this mean?”

I took the photograph of Rose from the folder and placed it gently on top of the DNA report.

“This is Rose,” I said.

Claire stared at the photo.

Rose was smiling on a wooden porch, her dark hair blowing across her face.

On her collarbone, the small, distinct tattoo of a blue bird was visible.

Claire’s breath hitched.

Her hand went instinctively to her own collarbone, where she had the exact same marking.

“She looks… she looks just like me,” Claire whispered.