Abigail stepped backward. “Come in.”
Inside, the house smelled of cinnamon and baby shampoo. There were toys on the rug, framed music certificates on the wall, and photographs of Lily everywhere: Lily sleeping, Lily laughing, Lily covered in mashed peas, Lily in Abigail’s arms beneath a Christmas tree.
Megan looked at each photograph as if receiving both a gift and a wound.
“She was loved,” Abigail said through tears. “Please know that. Whatever happened, we loved her.”
Megan nodded, unable to speak.
Jonathan handed Lily to Abigail, then brought a folder from a desk drawer. Priya reviewed the documents while Judge Reed made calls from the porch. The paperwork was polished, notarized, sealed—and built on lies.
Lily had been listed as surrendered by a mother unable to care for her.
Megan’s signature had been forged on the final consent.
Abigail covered her mouth when Priya showed her.
