(Amelia)
My parents came to my office three days after the gala, and I knew from my mother's face that someone had told them.
Emilia. It could only have been Emilia. I'd kept my son off every guest list, out of every photo, away from anyone who might carry his name back to the people I'd left. But my sister had been in my office. She'd seen the framed picture on my desk before I turned it over. She'd looked at his face longer than a visiting aunt should have. Then she'd made a call.
"Is it true?" My mother didn't sit. "You have a child. A boy. Five years old."
"Hello to you too."
"Don't." Her voice shook. "Don't be clever with me. You have a son and you never told us. Your own parents. We found out from your sister, like strangers."
"You found out from Emilia," I said, "because Emili
