He shrugs. “I really can’t tell you. I guess there were some complications during your birth that didn’t get resolved. All I know is that I was sent away when she got sick, and when I returned, you had already been sent to the pack orphanage, and your mother was dead and buried.”
I stare at him. “So, my mother held me when I was born?”
It’s a weird question, but for some reason it matters to me that there was once someone out there who loved me.
“When I first met her, she was holding you,” Noah tells me slowly. “She adored you. She was the one who gave you your name: Sophia Hope.”
My eyes burn with emotion, and I look away, not wanting Noah to see the tears in them.
“I never learned how she passed away,” he continues, “but I remember that I resented her—and you—because I assumed she h
