And she was wrong, completely and permanently wrong, and the proof of it was sleeping in her father’s arms on a porch in Maine, three thousand miles from the world Wendy had tried to claim her for.

Because Fiona does carry that family’s face.

But she does not, and never will, belong to them.

She belongs to the two people who wanted her for four grieving years, who wept over two dark lines on a test, who built a safe life out of nothing and then defended it against the darkness with everything they had.

She has the Vance eyes.

She has the Vance dimple.