Chapter 4

Countless messages, calls from names I knew and numbers I didn't. I answered none of them. I didn't even open the texts. I ignored the whole flood.

No DNA test needed. My fourteen-year-old daughter had the exact same eyes and brow as I did at her age.

Sean sent me one long essay after another, message after message, every dense paragraph revealing his fury and despair.

I never opened a single one.

This boomerang, sixteen years in the air, had finally landed right between his eyes.

I wondered, 'Does he still remember his own words?' [Jane, I never once asked…