"Yes, I know. I wanted to ask-do you still remember any of the children from

Sunshine House?” Emily Blair said. “One of the children's biological fathers discovered his child might have been sent there, so I wanted to find out if she's still around."

Ms. Morris's expression soured instantly. "Now you want to come looking? Where were you all those years ago? Why'd you abandon her in the first place? If you can't handle the responsibility, maybe you shouldn't have become a parent at all. You give up a child, then decades later, once she's grown up and can fend for herself, suddenly you want her back? What's going on in your heads?"

Emily felt the sting of Ms. Morris's words, even though she wasn't the one who'd done anything wrong. Somehow, under that accusing gaze, guilt crept in anyway.

She hesitated before speaking. "It's... a complicated situation. But you're right-the father wasn't there when he should've been. That's why he wants to find his daughter now. He wants to make things right, to do whatever he can to help her."

Emily paused, then added, "The child's father is actually quite wealthy. He's left a portion of his estate to her. Ms. Morris, I promise, this isn't about trying to use her or take advantage. He just wants to make amends."

Ms. Morris's face softened barely. She still looked skeptical, but at least the anger had subsided a little.

"Do you have any information on the child? Let me see what you've got."

Emily slid a couple of photos across the table—one taken at the hospital, another of Adelaide George. “These are pictures of the biological mother and the child. She was born July 6, 1999. From what we've pieced together, she was probably brought to Sunshine House in August or September that year. The mother's name is Adelaide George—here's her information. Does any of this ring a bell?"

Ms. Morris asked, "Boy or girl?"

"Girl," Emily replied.

Ms. Morris's brows drew together as she looked Emily up and down. "Back then, a lot of families gave up their daughters just because they wanted sons. Was that the case here?"

Emily quickly shook her head. "No, I don't think so. The father and his wife had one daughter—their only child—and she was always doted on."

Ms. Morris eyed her suspiciously for a moment. "Are you that only daughter?"

Emily hurried to clarify. "No, no. The father is my mentor. I'm just helping him with this. We're not related."

Ms. Morris looked away, focusing on the photos. "All right, I understand. I'll check the records. It's been so long-I don't remember much myself, and I'm not sure if any of those files are even still here. But I'll do my best to find them."

Emily smiled gratefully. "Take your time. Thank you so much."

As Ms. Morris began searching through old boxes and cabinets, she said, “Sunshine House had to shut down back then. We just didn't have enough funding-hardly anyone wanted to donate, and the support from the government wasn't what it is today. Later, when the state began to take orphanages more seriously, they provided more resources, and the director decided the best thing for the kids was to hand everything over. The children were all sent to different state-run homes. I haven't seen most of them in years."

"In 1999 alone, we took in over a dozen newborns-it shouldn't be too hard to narrow it down, if I can find the records. But after Sunshine House closed, I don't know where most of the files ended up. I only have a few left."

Emily nodded. "I understand."

Ms. Morris returned with a heavy stack of folders and began rifling through them. “I'll do what I can."

Emily offered, "Ms. Morris, would you like me to help you look?"

Without a word, Ms. Morris shoved a pile of files into her hands. “Go ahead."

Nearly half an hour passed as they dug through the papers, but persistence paid off -Ms. Morris finally unearthed the intake records from 1999.

She scrutinized the list, then looked up at Emily. “There are only three girls who fit the criteria."