Chapter 7 - THE SIGNATURE THAT STOLE A CHILD"Seventeen years."
Diamond repeated the words as though she were trying to understand a foreign language.
Abigail sat across from her.
Miriam stood near the kitchen doorway.
Nobody had touched the dinner cooling on the table.
Diamond looked from one woman to the other.
"You're telling me that Gold Whitmore is my sister."
Abigail nodded.
"Your identical twin."
"And Lawrence Whitmore is my father?"
"Yes."
Diamond laughed once.
It was not a happy sound.
"That's ridiculous."
She stood.
"This has to be some kind of mistake."
Abigail reached toward her.
"Diamond, please."
"Don't."
Abigail stopped immediately.
Diamond turned to Miriam.
"Why didn't you ever tell me I was adopted?"
Miriam swallowed.
"I was afraid."
"Of what?"
"Of losing you."
Diamond's eyes filled.
"So you lied to me?"
"Yes."
The honesty hurt more than an excuse would have.
Diamond pressed her hands against her temples.
"All those times I asked why I didn't look like you..."
Miriam's face crumpled.
"Sweetheart—"
"All those times I asked about Dad..."
Diamond had grown up believing her father had died before she could remember him.
Miriam had shown her a photograph of her late husband, Samuel, and explained that he had been an honorable man.
Diamond had assumed Samuel was her biological father.
Miriam had never corrected the misunderstanding.
Now even that memory felt uncertain.
"You let me believe your husband was my father."
Miriam lowered her head.
"I did."
Diamond looked toward Abigail.
"And you?"
Abigail shook her head.
"I was told you died."
Diamond stared at her.
"Who told you?"
"Lawrence."
The answer landed like a stone.
Diamond remembered the wealthy man who had approached her at school.
His pale expression.
His strange questions.
The way he had stared at her.
"He knew," Diamond whispered.
Abigail looked confused.
"What?"
"He saw me at school."
Abigail leaned forward.
"When?"
"On my first day."
"What did he say?"
"He asked my name. Then he asked who my mother was."
Diamond's expression hardened.
"He knew exactly who I was."
Abigail closed her eyes.
A terrible realization was forming.
Lawrence had met Diamond.
He had recognized her.
And he had returned home that evening and looked Abigail in the eyes while insisting their child was dead.
Diamond picked up the adoption papers.
"This says you gave me away."
Abigail shook her head.
"I never did."
"Your signature is right here."
"That isn't my signature."
Diamond examined the page.
It looked authentic.
A formal legal document.
A name.
A date.
A witness.
"How am I supposed to know who's telling the truth?"
Abigail's eyes filled.
"You don't have to take my word for it."
Diamond looked up.
"Then what?"
"We can get a DNA test."
Miriam nodded.
"You deserve certainty."
Diamond stared at the papers.
For years, she had believed her life was difficult because some people were cruel and opportunities were limited.
Now she was being asked to believe that her entire childhood had been shaped by a deliberate betrayal.
It was almost impossible to accept.
"Fine," she said.
Abigail wiped her cheeks.
"We'll arrange one."
Diamond stood.
"But until the results come back, I don't want anyone calling me their daughter."
Abigail lowered her eyes.
"I understand."
Diamond turned toward her bedroom.
Then she stopped.
"And Miriam?"
Miriam looked up.
Diamond's voice trembled.
"Don't call me sweetheart tonight."
She closed her bedroom door.
Miriam stood motionless.
Abigail listened to the muffled sound of crying from the other side.
She wanted to comfort Diamond.
Instead, she remained where she was.
Because seventeen years of stolen motherhood did not give her the right to demand seventeen years of missing affection in one evening.
Two days later, Gold found Diamond sitting beneath an oak tree in the Northcrest courtyard.
For the first time, Gold approached without Janelle.
"Can we talk?"
Diamond did not look up.
"Not today."
Gold hesitated.
"My mom told me."
Diamond's fingers stopped moving across her notebook.
"Told you what?"
"That she thinks we're sisters."
Diamond closed the notebook.
"She thinks?"
Gold looked uncomfortable.
"Dad says the whole thing is a misunderstanding."
Diamond stared at her.
"Do you believe him?"
Gold opened her mouth.
Then closed it.
For the first time, Diamond noticed that Gold looked frightened.
Not superior.
Not smug.
Frightened.
"I don't know," Gold admitted.
Diamond stood.
"Then figure it out."
She walked away.
Gold watched her go.
She wanted to call after her.
To say that she had not asked for any of this.
That she had spent her entire life being told she was her father's pride.
That she had no idea how to share that place with someone who looked exactly like her.
But she remained silent.
Three days later, Abigail received the DNA results from an accredited laboratory.
She had submitted her sample and Diamond's through the required identity-verification process.
The report established an overwhelmingly strong biological mother-daughter relationship.
It was consistent with Diamond being Abigail's child.
When Abigail called Miriam, her hands trembled so badly she could barely hold the phone.
"The results are here."
Miriam closed her eyes.
"And?"
Abigail began crying.
"She's mine."
Miriam whispered:
"She always was."
They agreed to show Diamond the results together.
That evening, Diamond sat at the kitchen table and read the report.
She examined every line.
Every number.
Every conclusion.
Then she placed the paper down.
Nobody spoke.
Finally, Diamond looked at Abigail.
"So you really are my mother."
Abigail nodded through her tears.
"Yes."
Diamond looked toward Miriam.
"And you're not."
Miriam's expression crumpled.
Diamond immediately shook her head.
"No. That's not what I mean."
She pressed her hands against her eyes.
"I don't know what I mean anymore."
Abigail moved no closer.
Diamond took a shaky breath.
"All my life, I've wondered why someone who was supposed to love me didn't."
Abigail reached across the table, stopping before touching her hand.
"I never stopped loving you."
Diamond's tears fell.
"Then why did he?"
Neither woman answered.
Diamond looked toward the window.
Beyond the small house, the city lights glittered in the distance.
Somewhere inside one of Atlanta's grandest mansions lived the man responsible for her existence.
The man who had rejected her before she could speak.
The man who had watched her grow up in poverty while providing every luxury imaginable to her identical sister.
Diamond wiped her eyes.
"I want to see him."
Abigail's face tightened.
"Diamond—"
"No. I want to ask him myself."
May you like
Her voice hardened.
"I want Lawrence Whitmore to look me in the face and explain why one of his daughters deserved everything, while the other deserved nothing."
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