"Make sure she doesn't return," Hannah said.
A brown envelope in one hand and her phone in the other, she made her way towards Emerlade's room.
She hung up on the call and knocked on her door.
"Come in," Emeralde said as she heard the second knock.
Hannah rolled her eyes before twisting the doorknob and making her way inside the room. A smile tugged on her face as she walked inside.
"How are you, girl?"
Emerlade stood up to greet her.
"Please sit."
"I'm going to make this quick. I'm sending Jolly into a mental institution."
Emeralde stood up from her bed.
"What do you mean? I can take care of her."
Hannah scoffed.
"That's the problem. Nobody cares about her apart from you, and you have a life outside of being a nanny."
Her jaw ticked. She scratched her finger - with her voice lowered, she said.
"I can take care of her, Aunt. I promise. I won't let this affect my life."
"Emeralde. Girl, you're doing more than a daughter has to do."
Her brow furrowed.
"What do you mean?"
Hannah sighed heavily.
"You're not Jolly's daughter. You didn't need to find out like this, but I have to tell you the truth."
She stumbled back.
Jolly isn't her mother.
This must be some kid of joke.
Her sight blurred as she looked at Hannah.
" H-how?"
Hannah looked away.
"Your mother isn't Jolly."
The room spun.
"No,"
"Child-"
Emeralde shook her head violently.
"You're lying."
Hannah placed the envelope on the table.
"Everything you need is in here."
Emeralde stared at it.
It suddenly felt heavier than a mountain.
"Who's my mother?"
Hannah's eyes softened.
"Mia."
The name meant nothing to her.
Yet somehow it made her chest hurt.
"W-what happened to her?"
Hannah hugged herself and said.
"She died a mysterious death. Nobody knows how she died"
Hannah stood up and left the room.
Emeralde collapsed on her knees.
The envelope slipped from her trembling fingers.
Jolly wasn't her mother.
The woman she'd spent her entire life trying to please.
The woman she'd defended.
The woman she'd loved.
Wasn't her mother.
A strangled laugh escaped her lips.
"No.."
Her head shook violently.
This had to be a joke.
A cruel joke.
With shaking hands, she ripped open the envelope and scattered the contents across the floor.
Photographs.
Documents.
DNA results.
Her vision blurred as she picked up the report.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
The answer never changed.
No biological relationship found.
Her eyes landed on a picture of Mia.
She looked exactly like her.
The report slipped from her finger as tears rolled down her cheeks.
All those years, she'd begged Jolly for love.
All those years, she'd blamed herself for never being enough.
If Jolly had really killed her mother...
Someone was going to pay for it.