The letter Elias held was heavier than it looked.
He sat alone in the study, dawn bleeding slowly through the windows, unread pages splayed across the desk like a trail of breathless confessions.
Orla entered quietly. Her eyes were puffy but clear. Determined.
“Read it,” she said.
Elias glanced up, then down again.
His voice was low. Too low.
“She said I wasn’t chosen by accident,” he began. “She found me after… after she lost the first one.”
Orla frowned. “First what?”
Elias looked up, haunted.
“First child.”
The silence cracked between them.
“She had a daughter before Jakob and me?” Orla asked.
“No.” Elias’s jaw clenched. “She had a daughter after you.”
Orla sat down. “What?”
“She was taken away. By the Foundation. They said Clara was unfit to raise her alone. They erased e
