sister Lily had the same one. She’d disappeared months ago after a fight. “He’s Lily’s,” I whispered. We should have called the police, but when the baby grasped my finger, I knew. We would raise him. We named him Ethan.Thirteen years later, he was ours in every way that mattered — tall, funny, calling us Mom and Dad. Until one afternoon, the doorbell rang. It was Lily. Polished, wealthy, and trembling. “I want my son back,” she said.
