“She was your biological mother,” I said.

Claire didn’t speak for a long moment.

She picked up the photo, her fingers trembling slightly as she touched the edges.

“She died twenty years ago,” I said, the words heavy in the quiet room. “Just days after you were born.”

Claire’s eyes filled with tears, but she kept them focused on the photo.

“How did she die?” she asked, her voice cracking.

“The official report says it was an accident,” I said. “But there are many unanswered questions. And your father was the last person to see her.”

Claire pulled her hands back from mine, shaking her head.

“No,” she said. “That doesn’t make sense. Dad said my biological mother was a college student in Chicago who couldn’t keep me.”

“He lied to us, Claire,” I said.

I reached into the folder and pulled out the unredacted birth records and the forged court order.

“I just received these from the state archive,” I said, pointing to the signatures. “Your father knew Rose. He was obsessed with her. When she died, he fabricated the entire adoption.”