“Imagining things?” My voice cracked. “Mark, that’s Emma.”
“Emma is gone.”
The way he said it—sharp, final—cut through me.
I stood there, stunned.
But something inside me had already decided.
I wasn’t letting this go.
The Orphanage
The next day, I went to the orphanage alone.
The building looked warm. Welcoming.
But I felt anything but calm.
When I showed the director, Miss Jameson, the photo—
her face changed.
She went pale.
“You know something,” I said.
She hesitated.
Then sighed.
“Yes… and I think it’s time you heard the truth.”
The Truth That Made No Sense
She told me about a sperm bank.
About a scandal.
About a donor.
Red hair.
Freckles.
Blue eyes.
My chest tightened.
A young man named Charles explained more.
“There’s been a pattern,” he said. “One donor. Too many children. Even when families requested something different… they still ended up with kids who looked like him.”
“Why?” I asked.
“The owner,” he said quietly. “She’s involved with him. She pushed his samples. Ignored the rules.”
My hands started trembling.
“And the girl?” I asked.
He nodded.
“She came from that donor.”
The room felt like it was closing in.
A man.
Dozens of children.
All with the same face.
The same features.
The same… look.
As Emma.
Leave a Comment