Michaela’s POV.
“Momma. I told myself not to cry, but I don’t think I can hold back.” I say as she holds her arms out for me. I walk quickly into her arms and we both fall onto the sofa. She laughs through the tears.
“Oh, my sweet little girl. Let me get a look at you.” She is so soft-spoken. Even the same from all the home videos my father would let me watch. Her voice is the same, she looks the same, she is the same. Which I find odd. After twenty-four years in captivity, she should look a lot less put together. Something doesn’t sit right, but I shove it down for now.
It has been twenty-four years since that day. Twenty-four long years, she has been stuck with Slade.
“I knew this day would come. I never gave up hope. You are so beautiful, my love. Your father has done an amazing job
