Chapter 115: Sadie: What Happened?

SADIE

I clear my throat, ready to get to the reason we came, but Matron speaks first.

"While we wait for the tea, tell me what you’ve been doing since you left." Before I can answer, she turns to Trey. "Did you know Rhodes was the only child in her group who aged out? She remained here until she was sixteen. We even gave her a badge when she left."

She looks back at me with the same pleasant smile.

"You can understand why seeing her now is such a surprise. She was a very shy child. Clumsy too. You would hardly believe this is the same girl."

My fingers curl into fists against my thighs. I breathe slowly, each exhale warm against my upper lip.

Shy? I was punished whenever I spent too much time with the younger children because she said I’d teach them bad habits and ruin their chances of being adopted. But sure. Shy is a much nicer version of that story.

"What’s wrong with being clumsy or shy?" Trey asks. "Everyone’s different."

"Nothing at all," Matron answers quickly. "I certainly didn’t mean it that way."

She studies us for another second before her smile returns.

"How did you all meet? At college?" A slight pause follows. "I must admit, I wasn’t expecting to see a Mercer among your friends. Where are you studying, Rhodes?"

"Boreal."

"Boreal?" Her eyebrows rise, and she turns to the others as though checking whether I’m serious. "You attend Boreal?"

"Yes. I study statistics there on a full scholarship."

Confusion holds her expression for another second before she rearranges it into a grin. Even then, the corners look strained, and I’m sure they will collapse into a sneer if she stops concentrating.

"That’s wonderful. The acceptance rate was below fifteen percent the last time I checked. A few children who were adopted attend Boreal as well, though they’re in different programs." She pauses. "I didn’t realize you’d been admitted."

Or she never considered it possible.

"Still, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised," she continues. "The education and guidance you received here gave you a strong foundation. I remember all our conversations about your future—the advice I gave you and the things I warned you against. Look at you now."

The secretary arrives with the tea before I can decide how to answer.

Her timing saves me from the unpleasant task of explaining that Matron contributed nothing to the person sitting in front of her. Most of her advice involved telling me to behave more like the other children so somebody might want me.

Whenever she treated me terribly, she followed it with an explanation: I was incompetent, I brought it on myself, and nobody outside these gates would ever tolerate me.

But yes. Look at me now.

The secretary sets a steaming cup in front of each of us and leaves as quietly as she entered. Matron draws breath, probably ready to continue listing everything I owe her, but I straighten in my chair before she can begin.

"I came because I have some questions about how I ended up here."

She blinks, her smile faltering. "What do you mean?"

"I never asked many questions about my childhood. I accepted what I was told and left it alone." My fingers ease around the strap of my bag. "Lately, I’ve been wondering whether that was really everything. I’d be grateful if you could tell me anything else you remember."

Her lips remain parted before she slowly closes them. "You came all this way to ask about that?"

"It might not be important to you, but it is to me. This is about who I am. About my parents." I pause, reminding myself that I came for answers, not an argument. "I know I was found on the porch with a hairpin and a note giving you my name. Was there anything else? Anything unusual about the day I arrived, or something that happened while I was growing up?"

I glance at Lola, then at Trey and Walker. "If there’s anything you’d rather discuss privately, they can give us a few minutes."

Lola immediately begins to rise.

"That won’t be necessary."

She stops halfway, and Matron looks at me with an expression I remember much better than the smiles she’s been wearing.

"I don’t want to spoil what has been such a lovely reunion, Rhodes, but what exactly are you suggesting?" Her voice sharpens. "That we knew something about your past and deliberately kept it from you?"

She scoffs and spreads both hands across the desk.

"Our purpose is to place every child in a loving home. If we had information that could have helped us find your family, don’t you think we would have told you?"

"I’m not accusing you of hiding anything." I hold her gaze. "I’m asking whether you remember something that wasn’t included in the story I was given. You’ve worked here longer than anyone else. You were here when I arrived."

I lean forward before I can lose my nerve.

"How old was I exactly? A few days, a few weeks, a few months? I know I was a baby, but nobody ever told me more than that. The day I arrived became my birthday because there wasn’t another date to use." My voice tightens. "Did a doctor examine me? Who was it? What did they say about me?"

Matron becomes very still.

She watches me without speaking, her expression unreadable while the silence stretches between us. It looks as though she’s searching her memory, but it could just as easily be her deciding how little to tell me.

At last, she breathes out.

"I wish I had something more to offer you, but I don’t. I’m sorry you traveled all this way for nothing."

The answer hollows out my chest.

Nothing. Is that because she can’t remember, because no records ever existed, or because she doesn’t want me asking what happened to them?

"Are you saying—"

"Nothing I tell you will change the facts, Rhodes." Her voice cuts across mine. "There was nothing remarkable about your arrival. You were left here as an infant. When you were old enough, we gave you the hairpin and the note instructing us to name you Sadie Rhodes. There wasn’t—"

"Someone suppressed my wolf when I was a baby." My palm strikes the desk hard enough to make her flinch. I hadn’t intended to hit it, but now my hand is lying flat between us. "I’ve been suppressed for as long as I’ve been alive. So either you tell me what you know, or you explain how something this serious went unnoticed while I was under your care."