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Chapter Eight

Cyprus

Dropping the picture, I dragged my hands through my hair. “Where did you get that? How did you get that?”

The picture was of a family, it was a mother and father with their child. I couldn't sit there and pretend, I couldn't ignore the faces of who I was looking at. That was my family, that was me with my parents.

Those are my parents.

That's definitely me. . . That's me.

I can't believe this, how did he get this?

The picture was taken when I was young, about twelve or so. I was standing between two adults, and I could see the resemblance of both of them in my face.

The sharp curves of my high cheekbones came from my mom, along with the puffy curls I had battled day after day. While my chin was slightly boxed and short like my dad, our eyes mirror images of each other. Deep hazel globes, with specks of gold and green, peered up at me. I was the perfect mix of both of them.

Tears started to fall seamlessly down my cheeks as my eyes kept glancing around the image. I couldn't look away, it was surreal.

It was everything I had wanted for years, to see their faces, to know the people that had left me behind. And it was nothing like I had imagined.

I often thought my parents were probably drug addicts, junkies that had finally had enough of me. That thought made the abandonment easier, it gave rise to an internal hatred and acceptance for people I didn't know.

But that wasn't who I was seeing. I wasn't looking into the scarred faces of addicts with frail bodies and track-lined skin.

What I saw was normal, it was what you would expect to see in a family photo album or a frame on the wall.

We were standing in front of a lake, the water glistening like diamonds in the background. There were sailboats gliding around in the back, and a long pier with men fishing off the side. I could see the clear blue sky and giant puffy clouds, as the sun's reflection sparkled off the ripples in the water.

The smiles on all our faces were serene. We looked happy, like we were on vacation and having the time of our lives.

But I didn't remember that moment, I couldn't find the memory in my brain anywhere. It just didn't exist.

“We've been looking for you for a long time, Fiona.”

No, this isn't real. It can't be real—

He's screwing with me, he's trying to turn me against Nick and Birch.

I'm not this girl! I'm Cyprus!

“Don't call me that!” I yelled, unable to place the emotions I was feeling in the right box. “No! No one looked for me! You're lying!” Slamming my palms on the table, I growled like an angry lioness, protecting herself from a poacher. “Those aren't my parents, that's not real! None of this is real!”

It felt like the detective was trying to kill me. He was trying to pit me against the family he sought out to destroy, and ruin everything I had. I couldn't let that happen, I couldn't let him wipe my world clean again.

There was no way I could just sit back and allow this man to erase everything I had. I had a family, I had a boyfriend who loved me and everything was exactly the way it was supposed to be.

But she looks just like me, how is that possible?

Everything was exploding all at once. All the hurt of not knowing who I was, all the sadness of feeling abandoned and not loved; the happiness of seeing the faces I had searched for and of knowing my real name; all of it came crashing in like a nuclear bomb, blowing apart my insides.

Sweat started to bead up on my forehead, running down my temples and cooling against my chest. My breathing became erratic and labored as I smiled and cried, frowned and screamed.

“Why?! Why now?!” Fisting my hair, I tugged at my scalp. “This isn't real, this isn't happening!” My voice fell into a whisper, lost and broken in truth. “That can't be me. Can it? Is that really me?”

The denial I felt was raging. I didn't want to accept the picture, I wasn't ready to receive what I longed to find.

They were dead to me. I had left them in a past that didn't exist anymore. I had a good life, with people who cared about me. Nick wouldn't do this. . . Would he?