Hannah’s stomach lurched. “My case?”
Detective Miller stood up. “Hannah, I’m so sorry to spring this on you. But we’ve recently confirmed something we’ve suspected for a long time. The woman you think is your mother—your adopted mother—has been hiding a very important truth from you.”
The room started to spin.
Subtitle: Hannah had perfected the art of being invisible by the time she was seventeen. Then a knock on her classroom door changed everything.
Hannah had perfected the art of being invisible by the time she was seventeen.
She kept her eyes on the floor when she walked the hallways. She wore her dark hair brushed forward on the left side, where the birthmark spread across her cheek—a deep wine-colored mark that stretched from her cheekbone to her jaw in a shape she had spent years trying not to think about. Other kids had spent years making sure she did.
