My mother kicked me out of the house the very night she found out I was pregnant. Five years went by and she never contacted me, nor had she ever seen her grandchild. Then, after meeting the baby’s father, she wanted to come back into my life.

I got my GED through an online program while Janna slept. I started community college when she turned three. I found better waitressing jobs, saved every dollar I could, and eventually moved us into a safer apartment.

Janna was brilliant and funny. She started reading at four and could do basic math before kindergarten. She had my stubbornness and her own little spark, the kind that made strangers smile at grocery store checkout lines.

Everything I did was for her. Then last month, a man walked into the restaurant where I worked. He wore an expensive suit, spoke with a Swiss accent, and kept looking at me like he was trying to place a face from a dream.

Finally, he asked if I had gone to State University five years ago. My heart stopped. It was Alex.

Only now, he went by Alessandro Moretti. His family owned a luxury hotel chain across Europe. He told me he had been trying to find me for two years after his cousin showed him my picture from the university’s orientation archive.