The little girl clung to my shirt like she had been waiting years to breathe.

Lily stood beside me, crying silently.

Claire kept shaking her head.

“No. No, this isn’t how it was supposed to happen.”

I stared at her.

“How long has a child been living inside our walls?”

Claire swallowed.

“She wasn’t living there.”

I looked down at the girl’s bare feet.

Dust covered her knees.

Her wrists were thin.

Her whole body trembled against me.

“Then what do you call this?”

Claire stepped closer.

The girl screamed and buried her face in my chest.

Lily shouted, “Don’t let Mommy take her!”

My blood went cold.

I turned to my daughter.

“Lily, did Mommy know?”

Lily nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks.

“She said Emma had to stay quiet or bad people would come.”

Emma.

The hidden girl had a name.

I held her tighter.

“Emma, is that your name?”

She nodded.

I forced my voice gentle.

“Why did you call me Daddy?”

Emma lifted her head.

“Because Mama said you were.”

Claire covered her mouth.

I felt the room tilt.

“Mama?”

Emma pointed at the bracelet.

“My mama gave me this before she went sleepy.”

I looked at Claire.

“Who was her mother?”

Claire did not answer.

I walked toward her.

“Who?”

She whispered, “Megan.”

My knees almost failed.

Megan was my first wife.

Claire told me Megan died alone after leaving me.

But Emma was five.