The Photograph That Led Me to My Twins—and the Letters My Mother Hid for Three Years

When I finished, he asked a question nobody on my payroll would have dared to ask.

“What would you do if she said she never wanted to speak to you again?”

I thought of my mother’s attorneys and the terrifying reach of the Mercer name.

I thought of the years I’d spent turning every refusal into an invitation to apply more pressure.

“I would have to respect that,” I answered.

“Then start by respecting this: the children are not part of your surprise visit.”

A little voice called from inside the house.