Colette froze mid-sentence, her mouth hanging open as Mrs. Gallagher's words registered. She turned slowly, her face a mask of practiced confusion.
"What nonsense are you talking about?" Colette snapped, her eyes darting nervously. "Everyone knows Orla is Eleanor's daughter."
Mr. Gallagher stepped out of the car, joining his wife. "A rather convenient arrangement, wasn't it? You get to stay close to your biological child while tormenting the one you claim is yours."
Colette's face flushed with anger. "You don't know what you're talking about! Lyra is my daughter—my ungrateful, worthless daughter who never did anything right!"
"Interesting," Mrs. Gallagher remarked coolly. "Most mothers don't speak about their children with such hatred."
"You don't understand what I went through!" Colette's voice rose hysterically. "I had to watch that girl every day, knowing she wasn't the son I was supposed to give Lachlan. Of course I resented her!"
