Or rather, the woman who used to be.
Her hair was styled perfectly, her suit expensive, her posture confident. Beside her sat her lawyer, flipping through a thick folder of papers.
Ten years.
Ten whole years had passed since the night she abandoned my grandsons on my doorstep.
I already knew something was wrong the moment I saw their faces.
They told me my only son, David, had died in a car accident. The road was wet. His car had skidded and hit a guardrail.