The teenager stopped breathing.

“My mother is dead.”

The woman shook her head through tears.

“That’s what you were told.”

The little boy lifted his wet face.

The courtroom felt suddenly too small.

The woman walked forward and placed an old photograph on the evidence table.

It showed their mother holding both boys beside a hospital bed.

Standing next to her was the same woman.

The teenager’s hands began shaking.

“Who are you?”

“Her sister.”

He stared at her.

“We don’t have an aunt.”

“You did,” she whispered. “Until your father made me disappear from your lives.”

The judge leaned forward.

The woman pulled out a sealed envelope.

“Your mother gave me this three days before she vanished. She said to open it only if someone tried to separate you.”

The teenager looked at his little brother.

Then at the judge.

The seal cracked loudly in the silent courtroom.

Inside was a handwritten letter and a recent photograph.

The woman looked at the first line, and all the color left her face.

“What does it say?” the teenager begged.

She raised her eyes slowly.

“It says your mother knew this hearing would happen.”

The little boy began crying again.

The teenager whispered,

“Where is she?”

The woman turned the photograph toward them.

And said,

“She’s been watching you from outside this courtroom.”