PART 1
My daughter disappeared on prom night, and for eleven months, I blamed the boy I had forbidden her to love.
Then I found her prom dress hidden inside my son’s room — along with letters that revealed the truth was far more painful than anything I had imagined.
The last photo I had of Livia was taken at 5:12 p.m. on our front porch.
She stood there in a pale blue dress, her arm linked with her twin brother Liam’s, wearing the impatient smile only an eighteen-year-old girl could manage.
“Stay together tonight,” I told them.
Liam smiled. “We always do, Mom.”
Livia rolled her eyes. “Mom, we’re eighteen, not little kids.”
“I know,” I said, brushing a curl away from her face. “That’s exactly why I’m worried.”
Then I added the warning that changed everything.
“And stay away from Mitchell.”
Her smile vanished.
“Mom.”
“I mean it.”
“You don’t even know him,” she said. “You only know his mother, and that’s not the same thing.”
Liam tugged gently on her arm. “Liv, come on. We’re going to be late.”
She looked at me one last time.
“Can I have one night where you trust me?”
“Trust isn’t the problem.”
She stared at me, hurt hardening into anger.
“It never is with you.”
Then she walked down the porch steps with Liam.
