Mrs. Sterling asked the manager for a private booth in the back of the restaurant.
Victoria refused to leave, sitting across from them with her arms tightly crossed.
Maya sat on the soft leather booth seat, feeling like she was in a dream.
She had spent her whole life wondering why she was alone in the world.
Her foster mother had always told her that someone loved her somewhere.
Mrs. Sterling: Twenty years ago, our house was broken into during a stormy night.
Mrs. Sterling: You were stolen from your crib before anyone could stop them.
Mrs. Sterling: The police searched for years, but we never found a single trace.
Maya: I grew up in three different foster homes in upstate New York.
Maya: My foster mom gave me this locket when I turned eighteen years old.
Maya: She said a woman left it with me at a shelter when I was small.
Victoria sneered from across the table, tapping her manicured nails on the wood.
Victoria: It sounds like a made-up story from a cheap television movie.
Victoria: My father worked hard to build the Sterling family business after the kidnapping.
Victoria: You cannot just walk in here and claim rights to our family fortune.
Mrs. Sterling: Your father was my nephew, Victoria, and he knew Clara was alive.
Mrs. Sterling’s voice turned cold as she looked directly at Victoria.
Mrs. Sterling: In fact, your father was the one who managed the family estate back then.
Mrs. Sterling: He always discouraged me from hiring private investigators to keep looking.
Maya saw Victoria’s eyes flash with a sudden flicker of nervous fear.
Maya: Did my foster mother know who took me?
Mrs. Sterling: We will hire the top lawyers and investigators in the country tomorrow.
Mrs. Sterling: Anyone who had a hand in keeping us apart will answer for it.
Victoria shifted uncomfortably in her seat and looked away toward the window.
The truth was slowly coming out, brick by brick, in the bright sunlight.
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