When I came home early, I overheard Samantha whispering, “I can’t tell Mom the truth. She’ll hate me forever.” My heart pounded.

I couldn’t imagine what secret she was hiding. Samantha, now sixteen, had always been my heart. But that day, she seemed different—nervous,

distant. When I confronted her, she confessed: “I did an ancestry test. It says you’re not my biological mother. ”The words hit me like a punch.

I took her hand and gently explained, “Your biological mother didn’t want you. But your dad—he wanted you more than anything. And when I met you,