I stared at the photo on Old Mrs. Ricardo's phone, my mind spinning. The image showed me standing beside Mrs. Johnson, both of us smiling, her arm around my shoulders. But that moment had never happened.
"I didn't send you this," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "This is photoshopped."
The elderly woman's brow furrowed. "No, no. You sent it to me. You said it was you and your mother."
"Mrs. Ricardo, that's not possible." I zoomed in on the image, studying the subtle blending errors around the edges of our figures. "Someone manipulated this photo."
She clutched my hand, her eyes suddenly desperate. "But you told me she was your mother. You're her daughter, Juliana."
Nathaniel stepped closer, examining the phone over my shoulder. "Grandmother, you're confused again."
"I am not confused!" She tapped her cane against the floor. "I remember perfectly. Juliana sent me this photo."
