Ellen squeaks out her surprise. “Isn’t this private property?”

“It is,” Wansu replies grimly. She snaps a command out to the driver in Korean and then turns to Ellen and me. “Park Minho will clear a path, but we can’t wait until everyone leaves or we will be late. When I open the door, follow me. Do not answer any questions.”

“We can’t speak Korean anyway.” Ellen smooths her hair back.

“There will be questions in English,” Wansu warns.

“We’ll be fine, won’t we, Hara?” Ellen replies.

I make some noise, which Ellen takes as agreement, but in truth I don’t feel fine at all. I bend over slightly and start breathing through my mouth. There’s a hurricane stirring up in my stomach and I’m afraid that I’ll lose the strawberry cake that I managed to choke down earlier this morning before my personal snow globe got upended and shaken to pieces.

In my head, I recite the small speech that I’m to give in front of the board of directors. In high school, I was only able to give half of my prepared paper in speech and debate before I got so tongue-tied that I could not squeeze another word out of my mouth. My teacher, a large, balding man by the name of Johannessen, took pity on me and sent me back to my seat. I remember his name because it took me half of the term to remember how many n’s and s’s there were. Yes, Hangul was a lot easier language to learn.

If I have a repeat of speech class, Wansu will pitch me out the boardroom window. I’m certain of it.

Park Minho holds open the door. Wansu steps out with her head up, and I wonder if she’s ever had a moment of uncertainty in her entire life and why she didn’t hand down an ounce of that nerve to me. Selfish woman. She strides toward the glass doors of the basement entrance. Ellen follows, a little less confident but with bright, curious eyes. A few questions are shouted out in English. “Are you the English mother?” “When did you find out Choi Wansu-nim was the biological mother?” “Are you giving up your parental rights?”

Ellen stops at that question and opens her mouth. Before she can say a word, I grab her arm and push her forward.

“Really, Hara, that question should’ve been answered. Of course I’m not going to give up my parental rights,” Ellen huffs once inside the double glass doors. Wansu pushes the up button.

“Wansu told us not to answer any questions.”

“Eomoni,” Wansu corrects.

“I didn’t expect there to be those types of questions,” Ellen protests. She looks like she wants to go out and fight. Fortunately, the elevator doors slide open. I nudge my mother inside.

“Wansu says—”

“Oh, for God’s sake, I know what Wansu said, but she’s not your mother!” Ellen throws her hands up. “I’m the one that’s the mother. I raised you. I was there for you when you skinned your knees, when you ran home crying because that boy in fourth grade asked you if your face was flat because you fell off the monkey bars or when that wretched girl in the sixth grade said you smelled weird. I was the one who dried your face, fed you ice cream, and tucked you into bed. I paid for your—” She cuts herself off suddenly. Her eyes dart to Wansu’s face. Her breath comes out in short pants. Wansu’s already porcelain complexion grows even more pale.