We pulled into the parking lot of the local diner.

The neon sign was humming, casting a pink and blue glow over the wet asphalt.

It was a quiet evening, with only three other cars parked in the lot.

We went inside, the little bell above the door chiming.

The smell of grease, onions, and cheap coffee hit us immediately.

Rose was sitting in the corner booth, a cup of untouched tea in front of her.

She looked up as we entered, her eyes immediately finding Claire.

She stood up slowly, her hands trembling as she smoothed down her worn wool coat.

We walked over to the booth.

“You came,” Rose whispered.

“We had to,” Claire said.

She sat down opposite Rose, and I sat beside Claire.

Claire reached into her backpack and pulled out the manila folder.

She laid it on the Formica table between them.

“This is the adoption file,” Claire said. “The real one.”

Rose looked at the folder but didn’t touch it yet.

“I found the court order,” I said to Rose. “It was forged. Richard did it himself.”