“Then explain why Lily and Maya are opening presents while Clara works.”
He glanced toward my daughter.
“Victoria’s girls are our biological granddaughters. Clara needs to recognize the distinction.”
The room fell silent.
I had adopted Clara when she was two.
My family had always spoken quietly about bloodlines and inheritance.
But I believed they understood one thing.
Clara was my daughter.
She stepped down from the stool and wrapped her arms around my leg.
“Daddy, did I do something wrong?”
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