Chapter 2
To "build a connection" ahead of time, I pestered Richard until he finally gave me the child's WhatsApp number.
"That kid might be a bit guarded, so watch your words," Richard said, his face a mix of worry and helplessness as he handed over the number.
I nodded eagerly. "Yeah, I get it. Like a wounded stray cat. I'm a pro at calming those down."
I rushed back to my room and opened WhatsApp.
The username was only one word: Rye.
Her profile picture was pitch black, with no status, and even her cover photo was black too.
I drew in a sharp breath.
The child had been so depressed and desperate that she turned her social media into a cyber graveyard.
picturing a delicate girl in her prime, forced by life to put on this "didn't mess with me, I was cold as ice" act, I felt my maternal instincts go into overdrive.
Feeling a flood of guilt and pity, I sent her a friend request with the humblest note ever. [Hi, Rye. I'm Sophia Lane, your adopted sister.] I also added an emoji.
About half an hour later, she finally accepted my request.
I immediately sent her the message I'd prepared in advance. [Oh, honey, I'm so sorry. I've been living your life and enjoying all the happiness that should've been yours for so many years. I'm honestly the worst.
[Honey, I heard you've been through so much. My heart hurts for you. I was up all night worrying about you.
[Don't worry, honey. From now on, I'm your family. According to Mom and Dad, I'm your personal bodyguard and your secret-keeper. I swear I'll love you with everything I've got.
[Hugs and kisses. I love you.]
After sending all messages quickly, I hugged my phone, grinning, and waited for her reply.
Her status showed "typing."
She kept typing for a full five minutes.
Finally, she sent back a single punctuation mark: [?]
I was stunned for a moment.
Beautiful flowers could grow even in poor soil. After everything she had been through, this girl didn't throw any harsh words my way. She hit me with a simple question mark.
She probably couldn't believe there was actually someone out there willing to be this nice to her.
I quickly fired off another message. [Honey, seriously, I'm for real. Where are you right now? Are you short on cash? Need any clothes? I can send you some if you want.]
Another long silence.
After a long pause, she finally replied coldly. [No. Don't go crazy.]
When I saw the words "don't go crazy" on my screen, instead of getting mad, my eyes started to sting.
Looked at that. She couldn't even say no without using such bare-bones words. It made it seem like she never really had a proper education, and she probably got bullied a lot.
I texted. [No way. We don't need to be so formal with each other. Are you still holding a grudge against me?]
Rye said. [Why would I blame you? You're the adopted one. It's got nothing to do with you.
[And stop calling me honey.
[Okay, honey. No problem, honey. So, what kind of dresses do you usually like? Pink or yellow?]
Rye sent. [......
[Did you hit your head or something?
[Not chatting anymore. I've got two engines to work on; my hands are all greasy. Logging off.]
She got two engines to work on, and her hands were all greasy.
I stared at the message and felt like my skull had been split open, and a ton of ice-cold soda had been poured straight into it.
She was actually working in a garage.
That place was packed with dudes, cussing nonstop, and one ended up so exhausted one could barely move.
My tears started flowing.
Oh my God. The Lane Family's real daughter was working in a garage, taking apart engines like a mechanic.
Like hell I was going to let that happen.