Eve stood in front of the small, modest house where she'd grown up....where Margaret Chen had raised her with love and sacrifice and everything a mother should give.
"Are you ready for this?" Damian asked quietly.
"No," Eve admitted. "But I have to do it anyway."
They entered the house...the brothers having to duck slightly to fit through the doorframe. Everything looked the same as Eve remembered, but smaller somehow. Like she'd grown and the world had shrunk.
"Grandmother's room was upstairs," Eve said, leading the way. "Second door on the right."
The room was exactly as Eve remembered...floral wallpaper, a single bed with a worn quilt, a dresser, and a closet. Nothing special. Nothing remarkable.
Except somewhere in that closet was a box that would tell her who she really was.
Eve opened the closet door with trembling hands. Old clothes still hung there, smelling faintly of lavender and old age. She pushed them aside, running her hands along the back wall.
