“That’s not how it works.”
The woman shook her head, almost pleading now. “You can’t do this to me! You were supposed to understand…”
“I do. I understand what Rachel did, and I understand what you’re asking, but the answer is no.”
“You don’t even want to know which one?”
Rachel’s words played in my memory: “Rebecca… keep a close eye on her, okay?” It had to be her.
“It doesn’t matter because they’re all mine now,” I said. “Every single one of them. And I won’t let you take that away from any of them.”
It had to be her.
“I have rights,” she said quietly. “Legal ones.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The adoption was private. There were irregularities. My lawyer says—”
“No! Whatever your lawyer says, the answer is still no.”
“You can’t just—”
“Watch me.”
We stared each other down.
“The adoption was private.”
I could see the desperation in her eyes, the years of regret and what-ifs. But I also saw something else: a willingness to destroy what existed now for the chance to reclaim what she’d lost.
Finally, she lunged forward and snatched the letter from my hands.
“I’ll be back, and next time, you won’t stop me from claiming what’s mine.”
The woman turned and walked down the steps.
I closed the door and leaned my forehead against it.
The years of regret and what-ifs.
Rachel had lied.
She’d kept a huge secret, and now… now I’d have to dig through Rachel’s things to find the original adoption papers, and I’d need to consult a lawyer. Just to be safe.
***
A year later, the courts confirmed what I’d known all along: adoptions can’t be undone just because someone changed their mind.
Becca was mine, and her biological mother had no claim on her.
I walked down the courtroom steps that day knowing my family was secure, and nobody could take any of my children from me.
Adoptions can’t be undone just because someone changed their mind.
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