Page 73 of A Lie so Dangerous and Fragile

I turned to look at Tristan, who looked worried.

“Yes?” I mumbled.

“You’re crying,” he said, trying to touch my face but I turned away.

“I’m fine. My eyes just feel itchy,” I said with a fake laugh and wiped them away.

The car came to a halt when he opened his mouth to say something.

“We are here, sir,” the chauffeur announced.

I looked outside at the familiar building.

“Are you ready?” he asked me.

“Yes.” I nodded.

I’d come to terms with my situation and the possibility of never getting Kayla back. Maybe that was the reason I could stomach breakfast and not panic. I knew the truth and had accepted it while Tristan was still hopeful.

We came out from the car. I took a deep breath and exhaled to calm myself. The receptionist at the lobby gave us a tight smile as we approached her. She hadn’t been here the last time I was here.

“Buenos días. Còmo puedo ayudarte?” she said chirpily.

“Hola. Estamos aquí para ver a la Sra. Maria Lopez.” Thank God I still remembered her name.

“Lo siento mucho, pero falleció hace tres meses.”

“Oh,” I mumbled. “She said the previous owner passed away,” I explained to Tristan, but the look on his face told me he already knew the language. I’d thought he only knew English.

“American?” the receptionist asked, looking between us with a weird fascination grazing her acne-caked face.

“Yes.” I smiled.

“Would you like to meet the new owner?” she asked with a heavy accent.

“Yes, please,” Tristan replied.

“I will make you an appointment. It will probably take an hour since she has three people on the list to see.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She beamed.

We waited for an hour before we were called to her office. She was a short woman with pretty eyes and thin grayish hair pulled into a tight bun. She smiled at us as we entered her office. Plastered on the walls, there were pictures of babies of different races and quotes about giving a child a safe home and a bright future.

“Hola. Tu hablas Español?”

I could speak Spanish, but I wasn’t sure about Tristan.

“English is fine,” I said, taking a seat.

“I’m Dr. Aracelly Mendoza. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too.” I shook her small hand.

“How may I help you? It’s not every day we get foreigners in our agency.” She laughed.

“Um … I gave my daughter up for adoption through this agency.”

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