Jack came into my room late in the evening. I didn't have the stomach to eat a large dinner, so I made a small sandwich for myself, downed it with steamy white tea, and had a relaxing bath. He came in as I was changing into my pajamas.
"I'm glad you've been released," he said. "And I've heard they will not push charges against you?"
"Yes," I said. "But Immigration and Border Control came for me."
"Why?" he asked, frowning. "Even if your father were an illegal citizen, your mother is a natural-born Kalmari citizen."
"They're claiming," I said, "that I'm not my parents' daughter. That my birth certificate was faked."
"That's a rather major claim," Jack said. "Do they have any proof?"
"Apparently, they have reliable testimony," I said. "But I doubt it. Only three people would be able to
