Chapter 325 +25 8gnus My mother? "What?" I frown. He shifts, reaching into his pocket and producing his wallet. I silently watch him, if he plans on slapping money at this like he would when I was a kid, I'm going to have another breakdown. "Look," he says, turning it to me; There are two images in there, one of me as a baby, and another that I don't remember taking, but it's me, same hair, same everything, except my cheeks are fuller in that photo, and I have a gap tooth? No, that's not me, that's my mom. Freya Hartley. "You are the spitting image of her." He says.

My heart jumps in my throat, but I swallow it down, smiling down at the picture in my hand. I haven't seen my mom's photos in years, I had half a picture of her that my brother and I tore when I was six. I felt so bad that I couldn't remember her, and turns out that the whole time, I was staring at her every time I stood in front of a mirror. "You don't have pictures of her around the house, so I forgot she looked like this," I swallow, handing his wallet back to me. The resemblance is utterly freaky.

"You forced a new mother on me." "It's hard for me to look at you because I see her in you," he says. "I see the wonderful gift she gave me, and I see the woman I killed." My mom passed away in labour with me, it was always me. I took her from him, and I know that's why he can't look at me, not because I look like her. "You didn't kill her, I did." "No, I did." he softly counters. "We both knew she wasn't strong enough to survive another pregnancy.

And when we found out she was pregnant, we were going to terminate, but the night before her appointment, she had a dream you were coming." He tells me, his voice indifferent, pained almost. I've never heard him speak this way, he appears distraught in some way, and yet there's a smile on his face. My father doesn't smile, not with me. "She knew you'd be a girl, and I had wanted a little girl with her since I met her, my first words to her were actually' You look like my daughter's mother,"" his smile widens a bit, broken still.

"I wanted to play tea parties, have little dance parties, braid your hair." His words resonate with me, blurred memories flashing behind my eyes. He used to do that for me before dumping me on the nannies and acting like I didn't exist unless I screwed up and needed scolding. "At our appointment, she looked at Doctor Mikhail and said no," his gaze lifts, finally looking away from her picture with tears in the corner of his eyes. "I want to give Bryan his little girl even if it kills me, and she did, but she didn't even get to meet you.

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