Emma's hands would not stop shaking.She stared at the photograph Evelyn Ashcroft had set down on the ancient wooden table — her father, Michael Parker, standing proudly beside a hospital bed, cradling a newborn. Emma. And beside him, smiling through tears, was Evelyn.Emma looked up sharply. "This is fake.""It isn't," Evelyn said, unmoved."My father would never have let you near me.""You're right." Evelyn's voice softened, almost mournful. "That photograph was taken before he even knew I'd come."Grace stepped between them. "Don't listen to her, Emma.""You always were loyal," Evelyn said, turning to her."And I'll stay loyal," Grace shot back, eyes narrowing."I never doubted it."Liam moved to Emma's side, his shoulder brushing hers — a small, steadying warmth in the middle of the storm. "You've lied for thirty years. Why should we believe you now?"Evelyn didn't answer at once. She crossed to an old bookshelf and drew out a dust-covered leather file, laying it before Emma with
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