And this time, my daughter had paid the price.
But Anna had one more piece of information.
She and William had taken a DNA test.
The result showed a 99.99 percent probability that William was Anna’s biological father.
I couldn’t speak.
For eighteen years, Daniel had been the man Anna knew as her father.
He had loved her.
Raised her.
Been there for her.
Nothing could erase that.
The DNA result didn’t change the love Daniel had given her.
But it changed something fundamental about our understanding of her life.
Suddenly, the past wasn’t the past anymore.
It was standing in our living room.
Alive.
Waiting for an answer.
Eventually, William and I agreed to meet.
We chose a quiet coffee shop.
When I saw him, I didn’t know what I expected to feel.
Anger.
Love.
Regret.
Maybe some version of the nineteen-year-old girl I had once been would suddenly come rushing back.
