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The room started to spin.
“Hannah, you were reported missing when you were two years old. There was a custody dispute. Your birth mother—your real mother—never stopped looking for you. She passed away two years ago, but before she died, she started a foundation to help other families in similar situations.”
The detective paused. She handed Hannah the photograph.
In the picture was a young woman with Hannah’s exact face. Same eyes. Same chin. Same bright smile.
And no birthmark.
“This is your biological mother,” the detective said. “She had the same mark as you. She was identified by the birthmark.”
That’s when Hannah realized what the officer was saying. The birthmark had made her visible. After a lifetime of hiding it, of covering it, of trying to be invisible, the one thing she’d been ashamed of was the exact thing that had connected her back to the family she never knew.