Millie's POV
My bunny fell down the stairs with a loud thump.
I was trying to listen to Daddy and the pretty lady talk downstairs, but I dropped Mr. Hoppers and he went falling. Now I had to go get him before Daddy got mad.
I tiptoed down the steps in my pink pajamas, trying not to make noise. Daddy was talking to someone in a scary voice. The same voice he used when the mean lady from the bank called about money.
But when I peeked around the corner, I saw the most beautiful lady I'd ever seen. She had short dark hair and sad eyes, just like in my dreams.
My tummy felt funny. Like when I ate too much ice cream, but different. Good different.
"Is she mine?" the pretty lady asked Daddy.
I didn't know what she meant, but her voice sounded like she was about to cry. I wanted to hug her and make her feel better.
Daddy looked scared. Really scared. The same way he looked when Mrs. Rodriguez got hurt and had to go to the hospital.
"Belle, we can't talk about this now," Daddy said. "Millie might hear us."
But I was already hearing them. And the pretty lady's name was Belle, just like mine!
Well, not exactly like mine. My name is Millie. But Daddy sometimes calls me by my long name when I'm in trouble: Amelia Belle Vale. He said I got the Belle part from someone very special.
I picked up Mr. Hoppers and held him tight. Something was happening. Something important.
The pretty lady sat down on our couch and put her face in her hands. "Four years, Jasper. Four years I thought my baby was dead." Baby? What baby?
Daddy sat down next to her, but not too close. "Belle, listen to me—"
"No!" She looked up, and I could see tears on her face. "Don't lie to me anymore. That little girl upstairs looks exactly like me. She has my eyes, my hair, my smile. And she called me mama the second she saw me. "
I did call her mom. I don't know why. The word just came out of my mouth like it belonged there.
I always thought about my mama. Daddy had pictures of a lady he said was my mom, but she had different hair and different eyes. When I asked why I didn't look like her, Daddy would get sad and change the topic.
But this lady... this lady looked like me. Like we belonged together.
"Where did you find her?" the pretty lady asked. "Where did you get my daughter?"
Daddy was quiet for a long time. Then he said, "Your father brought her to me when she was three months old. He said... he said you'd died having the baby. He said she needed a home."
My daddy lied to me?
I felt like I was going to throw up. All my life, Daddy told me my mama was dead. But she wasn't dead. She was right here in our living room, crying. "My father told me the baby died," the pretty lady whispered. "He said there were problems. He said I lost too much blood and the baby didn't make it."
"I'm so sorry, Belle. I didn't know. I swear I didn't know you were alive."
I dropped Mr. Hoppers again and stepped into the living room. Both grown-ups looked at me with big, scared eyes.
"Daddy," I said in my tiny voice. "Did you lie to me about my mama?"
Daddy's face turned red. "Millie, sweetie, it's complicated—"
"You said my mama was dead!" I started crying. "You said she went to heaven! But she's right here!"
The pretty lady got up and walked over to me. She kneeled down so we were the same height.
"Hi, Millie," she said softly. "I'm Belle. And I think... I think I'm your real mama."
I looked at her face. Really looked. She had the same little freckle on her nose that I had. The same way her left eyebrow was a tiny bit higher than her right one. The same everything.
"Are you really my mama?" I whispered.
She nodded, and more tears came down her face. "I think so, baby. I think so."
I wanted to hug her, but something held me back. "Why didn't you come find me before?"
"Because I didn't know you were living. Bad people told me you were dead. They took you away from me when you were just a tiny baby."
I looked at Daddy. He was crying too now. "Daddy, did you steal me?"
"No, Millie. No, sweetheart. I thought I was helpful. I thought I was giving you a good home because your mama was gone."
"But my mama wasn't gone!" I was getting mad now. "She was looking for me!"
The pretty lady... my real mama... reached out and touched my face. "I was looking for you, baby. Every single day. I just didn't know where to look."
My phone made a beeping sound from upstairs. I always kept it by my bed so I could call Daddy if I had bad dreams.
But I wasn't supposed to have a phone. Daddy always said four-year-olds don't need phones.
All three of us looked up at the ceiling.
"Millie," Daddy said slowly. "Did someone give you a phone?"
I felt scared again. "The nice lady at the park said it was a present. She said I should keep it secret."
Daddy and my real mom looked at each other with very frightened faces.
"What nice lady?" my real mama asked.
"The one who looks just like me. She said she was my friend. She said she'd call me when it was time to come home."
Daddy ran upstairs really fast. I could hear him moving things around in my room.
He came back down with a small phone in his hand. It was making beeping sounds.
"Belle," he said, his voice all shaky. "This isn't just any phone. Someone's been tracking Millie."
The phone beeped again, and a message showed up on the screen. Daddy read it out loud: "Time's up. Bring the girl to Central Park. Midnight. Come alone, or you'll never see either daughter again."
My real mama gasped. "Either daughter? What does that mean?"
And that's when I remembered something very important. Something the nice lady at the park told me to forget.
"There's another little girl," I whispered. "She looks just like me. The nice lady said she was my sister."
Daddy dropped the phone. It clattered on the floor, still beeping.
"Millie," he said very quietly. "What else did the nice lady tell you?"