“I adopted a sweet 7-year-old orphan, but while washing her back on the first night, I discovered a scar shaped like a notorious cartel symbol. My blood ran cold. I locked the bathroom door and secretly dialed 911, stuttering, ‘Send help, she isn’t who you think-‘ Before I could finish, she effortlessly shattered the heavy lock, grabbed the phone, and said…”

retreated quickly down the hall.

Suddenly, a new, authoritative voice boomed from the corridor, hard and unyielding.

“Police! Stop right there. Keep your hands where I can see them!”

Clara squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her hands violently over her ears, bracing for the gunfire she assumed was coming next.

Chapter 4: The Illumination of Scars

I didn’t continue reading …