"Oh, cough cough…" Olivia Wilson coughed a few times, then said something Amelia Clarke didn't understand, "After all these years, he still holds a grudge against me, against what happened back then. He doesn't even recognize his own child now. Forget it, forget it. Amelia, I'm a bit tired. Let's leave it at that. I'll hang up now."
Having said that, she truly hung up the phone.
Amelia Clarke held her phone, feeling somewhat lost.
The words of James Carter, those of Isaac Taylor, and her mother's, tangled like headless, tailless threads, were tightly wound and made it impossible to distinguish right from wrong.
What exactly was the origin of her and Mason's identity?
Amelia Clarke was completely confused.
But soon, she smiled slightly and felt relieved.
No matter what her and Mason's origins were, Olivia Wilson was her mother, and Mason was her brother. That was all she needed to know; the rest didn't matter anymore.
This family only needed the three of them.
