I saw rage move across Marisol’s face. But it was brief, and within a moment, she schooled her expression into something neutral again.

I was learning so many things about her. This woman might be my mother. This woman that I thought was dead for so many years. She was resilient, but then she had to be if she had been married to my father. And she didn’t let her plan be derailed for too long. She seemed to always have one more thing planned, or one more thing ...