“Who are you?” I asked.
She met my eyes. “You don’t know me. But I know you. I’ve waited years for this.”
“This isn’t appropriate,” I said, struggling to steady my voice. “You need to leave.”
“I gave birth to you,” she insisted, stepping forward. “I carried you for nine months. And now I’m invisible?”
Whispers rippled through the guests. Hannah stood frozen beside her mother.
“You left me,” I said.
“I was young,” she shot back. “I had nothing. I made a difficult choice. And now you’re replacing me?”
Before I could respond, a chair moved sharply across the floor.
Robert stood.
He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t rush. He simply walked calmly to the center of the room.
Continue on the next page:
