The certificate lay between us like a confession.

My name wasn’t on it.

Only Adrian’s.

And Eliora’s.

Filed. Stamped. Dated.

Weeks before the court ever saw my face.

Adrian’s fingers trembled as he traced the embossed seal. He kept rereading the name—our child’s name—as if doing so would make it disappear.

“It’s real,” he said, finally. “She got to them.”

“She forged it,” I said.

“No,” Granny corrected softly. “She didn’t forge. She manipulated. She ...