Stacy Roberts POV
The letters blurred together as a wave of hot, unadulterated fury broke through the numbness of my shock. How can my own mom say this? How could she stand there, looking at me with those calculating, unblinking eyes, and demand that I erase every single piece of who I was? I was her daughter. I was Stacy Roberts. I had lived twenty-four years under the name she gave me, and now she was tossing it into the trash like a piece of scrap paper.
"I can never be bearing Katrina's name," I whispered, my voice shaking but laced with a sudden, stubborn iron. I looked up from the passport, glaring directly into my mother's frozen face. "Never."
My mother didn't flinch. She didn't even blink. She just stood there in her perfectly tailored clothes, the very image of absolute autho
