My daughter never returned home after prom—eleven months later, something I accidentally discovered hidden inside my son’s beanbag chair turned my face completely pale.

I grabbed my phone.

“Camila,” he said. “Wait.”

“No. I’m calling Liam.”

“Don’t call him like you’re about to put him on trial.”

The words hit because they sounded like Livia.

“We have a granddaughter.”

I stared at the phone until my breathing slowed. Then I called.

Liam answered on the second ring.

“Mom?”

I looked at the torn beanbag, the dress, the letters,continue reading …