“Why didn’t you want to be found?” he asked. “What?” “I know it sounds like an existential question, but I’m being literal. Were you scared of someone finding you?” Not often in her life, maybe twice, had Emilie been speechless. This made three. “How did you know?” “So I’m right. You didn’t want to be found?” “I’m adopted. And the adoption was legal, except nobody ever knew who my biological father was, so he never signed off on it. Mom was always a little worried he’d show up out of nowhere and try to contest the adoption. She never told me that, but when I was four or five I overheard her
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