*Sam*
A couple of days have passed since my confrontation with Pamela, but the weight of it is still something I feel. I sit in my living room, the familiar chaos of life swirling around me. Max and Athena are here, huddled over my laptop, pouring through search engines and databases, desperate for a lead. The room is filled with the sound of clicking keys and hushed murmurs, but beneath it all, a tense undercurrent pulses through our efforts.
“Nothing,” I mutter, slumping back into the couch, a sense of defeat washing over me. I can’t shake the image of that child, a son I never knew about, slipping further away with each passing moment. Finding a kid given away almost 5 years ago in a no contact adoption is extremely difficult it seems.
Max rubs a hand over his face, exhaustion etched
