At the ring.
“My mom has one just like that,” the girl said softly, but with total certainty.
Silence swallowed the room.
Daniel shifted uncomfortably. The guards stepped closer. Victoria felt the world tilt. That ring was unique. Only two existed.
“Wait,” Victoria said sharply.
Daniel stared at her. “Mom, this is ridiculous.”
Victoria ignored him. “What do you mean?” she asked the girl, her voice trembling. “Where is your mother?”
The child hesitated. “She’s sick. We live far from here. She always wears the ring. She says it’s important. She says she can’t ever lose it.”
Victoria’s legs weakened.
“What’s your name?” she asked gently.
“Sophia.”
Victoria knelt in front of her. “Sophia, can you show me where your mother is?”
Sophia reached into her pocket and pulled out a worn photograph. “She told me to keep this safe.”
Victoria’s hands shook as she turned it over. Before even seeing the image, she saw the faded handwriting on the back.
“I’ll come back when it’s safe. I promise. Isabella.”
Tears fell freely. She flipped the photo over.
Isabella. Older. Thinner. Marked by hardship—but unmistakable. And beside her stood Sophia.