1.The slap silenced a room full of powerful men, but what frightened my husband was not the blood on my lip.

The interrogation room at the county jail was small, cold, and smelled faintly of bleach and cheap coffee.

Celeste Vance sat at the metal table, wearing a bright orange jumpsuit that clashed horribly with her styled blonde hair. Her roots were already showing gray, her face looked sunken, and her eyes were wild with panic.

The heavy steel door unlocked, and I walked into the room alone, carrying a blue folder.

Celeste looked up, her expression instantly twisting into a snarl of bitter hatred. “You! You ungrateful little brat! Look what you’ve done to us! Adrian is in a high-security block! They won't even let me see my son!”

I didn't answer. I pulled out the heavy metal chair across from her and sat down slowly, placing the blue folder on the table.

“You look terrible, Celeste,” I said quietly. “Orange really isn't your color.”

“Get me out of here!” Celeste demanded, slamming her handcuffed hands against the metal table with a loud clang. “You owe us! We fed you! We gave you a roof! My son married a penniless orphan and gave you a respectable name!”

“A respectable name?” I scoffed, leaning forward. “My real name is Maya Elizabeth Vale. And my father has more wealth in his left pocket than your entire family line will ever see.”

Celeste flinched, her eyes darting nervously toward the two-way mirror on the wall. “That’s... that’s a lie! You’re an impostor! You forged those DNA results!”

I opened the blue folder and pulled out a black-and-white photograph from twenty-two years ago. I slid it across the table.

It was a photo of her—twenty-two years younger, wearing an event staff badge, standing near the gardens of the Vale Estate in Martha's Vineyard. Right behind her in the background was a three-year-old girl in a pink dress, wearing a silver crescent moon necklace.

Celeste’s eyes widened in horror. She pulled her hands back from the photograph as if it were made of fire.

“We found the paper trail, Celeste,” I said, my voice cold and unyielding. “We found the receipt for the private transport. We found the stolen diamond earrings you pawned in Boston three weeks after I vanished. We know everything.”

Celeste began to breathe heavily, her chest heaving as sweat broke out across her forehead. “It... it wasn't supposed to happen like that,” she stammered, her composure completely shattering. “I was drowning in debt! Those loan sharks were going to break my legs! I just needed money!”

“So you stole a three-year-old child?” I asked, my voice trembling with anger.

“I was going to return you!” Celeste wept, putting her hands over her face. “I swear! But the police were everywhere! If I got caught with Gabriel Vale’s daughter, I would have been sent to prison for life! I had to get rid of you!”

“And four years ago?” I pressed, leaning over the table. “When Adrian brought me home? You saw the necklace.”

Celeste looked up through her tears, a sickening, desperate smile touching her lips. “It was a miracle from God,” she whispered insanely. “I saw that silver moon around your neck, and I nearly fainted. I realized who you were. I knew that if you ever met Gabriel Vale, my crime would be discovered. So I convinced Adrian to marry you. I told him you were quiet, easy to control, and had a nice little trust fund.”

“You kept me in your house like a slave to protect your secret,” I said, tears finally spilling down my cheeks—not out of sadness, but out of pure disgust.

“We kept you safe!” Celeste argued, her voice rising into a hysterical screech. “We gave you a life! You should be thanking me! If I hadn't taken you, you would have been raised by a busy father who was always working!”

I stood up from the chair so fast it screeched against the concrete floor.

“You are a monster, Celeste,” I said, looking down at her with absolute disdain. “You didn't just steal my childhood. You let your son abuse me for four years while you stood by and laughed.”

“Mara... please!” Celeste begged, reaching across the table to grab my sleeve with her cuffed hands. “Tell your father not to press the kidnapping charges! The fraud charges are enough! I’ll die in prison if they add kidnapping!”

I pulled my sleeve out of her grasp, looking down at her weeping, pathetic figure.