Page 72 of Cruel Dreams

Shaking my head, I say, “That’s what they wanted you to think. This is the woman who bought you, and the infant isn’t you. She had a baby, but her daughter passed away. SIDS. Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. Grieving, she contacted Clayton Black. A year after she adopted you, she was diagnosed with breast cancer and passed away. Her family was against the whole thing, and after Gwendolyn died, they were afraid to keep you. They let you grow up in foster care because they were scared someone would find out.”

Ash told me just enough of the truth I didn’t think to look for lies.

Tears run down Stella’s cheeks.

I haven’t told her the hard part yet, and I hand her another picture. This one is an informal family shot of a man and woman, a toddler in the mother’s lap, and a newborn baby cradled in the father’s arms. They sit on a couch, the branches of a Christmas tree bordering an edge of the photo.

“This is your family. According to the time stamp on the back, it was taken a couple weeks after Thanksgiving.”

The man looks strong, confident, and proud of his little family. The woman, blonde like Stella, looks tired, but happy. Her eyes match Stella’s delicate blue and the toddler’s sitting on her thighs.

“What are their names?”

I can barely hear her over the wind rustling the leaves in the trees above us. “Your father’s name is Brad, and your mom’s is Monica. Your sister’s name is Adelyn.”

I know what she’s going to ask me next, and I pray against it with all my heart.

It doesn’t work.

“And mine? What is my real name?”

“Jenna. Your full name is Jenna Grace Christianson. You were born on November twenty-fifth, the same day and year as Zarah.”

“Did they look for me?”

I pull out a thin stack of papers from the file. “Yes, they did. For a very long time. This is everything Clayton kept on you. He followed every case to ensure authorities didn’t connect the kidnappings—to each other, or to him. They didn’t kidnap many infants from King’s Crossing. You were only one of a handful over the years, and that’s why Ash knew your name when I introduced you. He didn’t hate you because you were poor. He was scared of you. I suspect someone working for Clayton saw the opportunity in the busy store and took it. Who can resist a beautiful blue-eyed baby girl?”

She skims the stack of pictures and newspaper clippings. Missing posters, fliers. The news articles grow shorter and shorter until Jenna Grace’s kidnapping disappears from the news altogether.

“Are they still alive?”

“Yes. Six years after your kidnapping, they left the area. Brad and Monica said in an interview it was too painful to live in King’s Crossing. Monica, especially, was torn. She wanted to stay in the city in case you were ever found. I guess after six years they thought you never would be, and they moved to Florida. They own a condo near the beach in St. Petersburg.”

“Did Banks tell them they found me?” She can’t stop staring at the family photo.

“Not yet. I wanted to tell you first.”

“She’s beautiful.” She means her mother.

“You look exactly like her.”

“How much did Clayton sell me for?”

“Stella—”

“No. I want to know how much my family’s pain was worth.”

I swallow. “Gwendolyn Mayfair paid two million dollars.”

“Why did she buy me if she knew she was dying?”

“She didn’t know, not then. She thought she’d have a life with you, Stella.”

“That’s not my name.”

Her statement takes me aback. “What?”

She looks at me, her eyes hard. “That’s not my name.”

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