"No, nothing at all," she snapped, clearly irritated.

"How old was I when you found me? A month? Just born?" I pressed on.

"Grace, would you give it a rest already? That was ages ago. How the hell am I supposed to remember?" she shot me a glare. "Now, are you going to agree to the deal I brought up earlier or not?"

In that moment, everything about how she treated me—good or bad—just clicked into place. It all suddenly made sense.

"Mom, ...