Later, when Emily served dinner, the girl ate slowly and cautiously, shielding her plate with her arms the way someone might if they had spent years worrying their food could disappear at any moment.

The next morning, while wandering through the living room, the girl stopped in front of a photograph on a shelf.

It showed a smiling little girl wearing a yellow dress, her hair tied in ribbons. A small bracelet rested on her wrist.

The girl reached out and touched the glass.

“Do I know her?” she asked quietly.

Emily gently took her hand.

“There’s something we need to find out,” she said softly. “We’re going to do a test. It won’t hurt.”

The girl nodded. For the first time in a long time, someone was explaining things to her instead of ordering her around.

Three days later, the results arrived.

Daniel’s hands trembled as he opened the envelope.

He stared at the paper for several seconds before the words finally sank in.

A perfect match.

Emily collapsed into tears—deep, uncontrollable sobs that carried seven years of heartbreak and hope all at once.

Daniel slowly knelt in front of the girl.

“Your name… isn’t Luna,” he said gently. “It’s Olivia.”

The girl’s body trembled violently.