The Princess crossed the room slowly, raising a hand toward Stevie’s face. “Stephanie?”

“Who are you?” Stevie asked, squeezing Devon’s hand so tight he gasped.

“Stephanie…you don’t remember me?” Stevie shook her head. “I’m your mother.”

“No. My mother left me. Fourteen years ago.” Stevie backed away, pulling Devon with her, “She abandoned my baby sister and I when I was three years old! Nobody knows where Melanie is now.”

“Stephanie, please.” The Princess’ words were accented; she had not grown up speaking English. “Stephanie you—“

“That is NOT my name!”

“Yes it is. You think a mother doesn’t know her daughter on sight?”

“Prove it. Prove it. My mother had a birthmark, a light brown spot in the shape of the moon—“

“On her collarbone,” Melanie finished, pulling down the neck of her top to expose the brown crescent that was identical to the one of Stevie’s own collarbone. “Stephanie, please just hear me out. I’m your mother. I am Melanie.” Stevie looked into the Princess’ eyes and saw only truth. She let go of Devon’s hand, covered her face, and burst into tears, her knees falling out from under her. Devon grabbed her hands and slowly pulled her up.

“Why would you leave?” Melanie looked with sorrow at her daughter, gripped her hand and led her to the chair.

“I have a lot of explaining to do.” It seemed like a picturesque moment until Stevie stood up and punched Melanie hard in the jaw.

“YOU THINK?”