“Margaret?” she whispered. My heart skipped a beat. Nobody had called me by that name with such emotion in years. I studied her face carefully, trying to recognize the little girl hidden behind the elegant woman standing before me. Suddenly, I noticed a tiny crescent-shaped scar above her left eyebrow.
I remembered that scar immediately. “Emily?” I asked, barely able to speak. She nodded, and tears rolled down her cheeks. Twenty-eight years earlier, Emily had been a frightened little girl whose mother had disappeared. I had taken her into my home and promised her something I had never forgotten.
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