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... He knew repressed memories born of trauma could resurface later, and when they did, the damage might be even worse.
But for now, she was stable. That was all that mattered.
Still… he had to be sure.
"Do you… remember your daughter?" he asked gently.
Sophia's eyes widened, then slowly drifted downward. Her hand clutched her chest, as if something sharp had pierced it.
"Daughter…" she murmured, voice unsteady. "I think I had one… a long time ago… but I can't ...
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