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December 23rd epitomized a day of mourning for the entire McMahon family.

December 23, 1979 was the day they lost their cherished Stephanie.

The anniversary of the date of her disappearance had arrived and brought along with it the heavy hearts of Vince, Linda, and Shane. All they had left of their daughter and sister, respectively, were wrinkly, faded photographs and a dresser drawer stock full of clothing she had worn right up to the point she was snatched so abruptly from their lives. The WWF had pulled through the tragedy as a result of Vince's hard work and determination, but the McMahons were barely etching by as a family unit. There was a gaping hole in their hearts where Stephanie once resided, and they kept the spot open, holding out hope that one day their beloved would return.

Stephanie had only reached the point of three months removed from her third birthday when she was stolen from right under Linda's nose. The Sunday before Christmas '79 had been a major shopping day, and while Linda had purchased all the presents needed for their festive celebration, there were some last minute items she desired in order to complete the household decorations. However, what should have been a simple trip for wrapping paper, tape, and additional Christmas stockings turned into a nightmare she would never be able to live down. Taking her eyes off Stephanie long enough for a criminal, a monster, to step in and kidnap her child was a split-second mistake she was paying for with a self-instated life sentence.

A classic Christmas carol, Jingle Bell Rock, floated through the room as it played a soothing melody in the background, and four glasses of warm apple cider occupied a smattering of wisely-placed coasters on each of the oak tables in the den. Shane's vacant stare met the wooden floor as his hand closed loosely around Marissa's. Vince sat at a stiff angle with his arm blanketed over Linda's shoulders, and she leaned into his touch, as if she would crumble to the floor in the absence of his supportive hold. With each year that passed, they were told it would get easier when, in fact, it was the very opposite of that. The more time that escaped them, the less hopeful they persisted as a collective group that Stephanie even remained alive.

"I can't believe it was 19 years ago today," Shane braved the tension in the room by breaking the silence. He reached for his glass and enjoyed a sip of the warm liquid, enjoying the way it slithered down his throat and warmed his whole body in a matter of seconds. Marissa squeezed his hand and he attempted a smile, but a persistent lump had formed in his throat and was distracting him from being as expressive as he might normally have been. "I was only 9 when she was taken, but I still remember so much about her."

"I know you do," Marissa acknowledged.

"She was a good sister," Shane added, nodding his head unconsciously. "She was only a 3-year-old, but she was good."

"I have work to do," Vince rose abruptly from his seat and left Linda longing for comfort, her distraught gaze following him until he disappeared from view. Seconds later, his booming footsteps provided a temporary back beat for the music as his clomping cut through the downstairs section of their house. Vince had loved Stephanie in a special way, quite unique from the other members of his family, and had taken the news especially hard after finding out his little daddy's girl was no longer.

"I should go talk to him," Linda wiped at her eyes, which momentarily welled up until she was able to get a hold of herself. "Help yourselves to the snack platter."

"Thanks, Mom," Shane nodded, though he stared straight through the tray resting in the middle of the table. Linda followed the same path up the stairs Vince had just taken, and when she was gone, Shane rose from the couch to grab a cinnamon-scented candle that had been seeking refuge in a holder atop the table. He used his index finger and thumb to pull the wick up and extended it towards an already lit candle, borrowing its flickering flame to light the one he held. With the task complete, Shane slipped back into his seat beside Marissa and held the newly-lit candle in front of himself with pride. "In honor of Stephanie."

"In honor of Stephanie," Marissa repeated as she wrapped him in a consolatory hug.

A holiday celebration of a very different kind was brightening up the Crandall family home in Moorhead, Minnesota. The Christmas tree shimmered with decorative lights and thoughtfully strewn garland, and the family dog, Dusty, ambled through the kitchen as her nose sought after the wafting scent of sugar cookies. Her icy blue gaze and sturdy stature made the husky appear intimidating, in a sense, but those who knew her claimed she had all the aggression of a fluffy teddy bear. That wasn't to say Dusty didn't act as the protector of the family, but she was often so determined to cuddle up with everyone that she wasn't as busy as she should have been sniffing out lurking trouble — not even when it was right under her snooping nose.

While Gregory and Melissa Crandall chatted in the kitchen over a rich cup of coffee as they awaited the completion of the baking cookies, their only child lay sprawled across the couch in the living room with the cordless phone trapped between her right ear and shoulder. Their 22-year-old daughter, Jennifer, was the prize of the family. Not only had she been accepted into her university's nursing program with exceptionally good grades, but she was preparing to graduate from school with honors the following summer. The Christmas break she had returned home to enjoy with her parents was a welcome recess from her studies, and it allowed her to feel like a kid again, even if only for a short while.

"School has been going good, actually," Jennifer flexed her feet and stretched her arms before grabbing the phone in her right hand when it began to slide away from her. She was catching up with an old friend from high school, and it was pleasant to have a tradition as simple as the holidays luring her back to those she had been closest to once upon a time. "I'm actually getting a grasp on this stuff, and I wasn't sure I would at first."

"You're so smart though," Nicki, one of her closest friends from times past, pointed out. "You were always the bookworm of everyone in our group when we were in high school. I always knew you'd be either a nurse, doctor, or rocket scientist. You've got the brain for it."

"You flatter me too much," Jennifer laughed before spying the digital clock across the way and remembering she was supposed to be helping her mother finish the baking before night fell. "Hey, I've gotta go help my mom with the cookies and stuff, but I'll call you back later tonight. Since you're in town for the holidays, we can maybe meet up somewhere."

"That would be cool, give me a call whenever."

"All right, bye, Nicki."

"See ya," she replied. Jennifer hung up the cordless phone and shifted on the couch, placing it back in the charger cradle as she snuck in one more full body stretch. It was with great reluctance she rose from her comfortable spot on the couch and padded towards the kitchen. When a hushed conversation fell upon her ears just as she reached the connecting doorway, Jennifer paused and listened in, her stony blue eyes narrowing at the possibility of her parents keeping some sort of secret from her.

"I can't believe it's been 19 years," her father said.

"I can't either," her mother answered back cautiously, as if she was nervous Jennifer would step into the room at any moment and blow their cover. It begged the question of why they would openly discuss a concern they didn't want her to hear. "I was always so worried we would never have the child we always wanted, but then we got Jennifer. She was meant to be ours from the beginning."

"Do you think she might have had a better life if she stayed where she was?" Greg quizzed.

"No. We've given her everything she needs and more. Nobody could ever provide for her the way we do."

"That's true," Gregory replied before the room fell silent again.

Jennifer reached up and tucked her freshly dyed blond hair behind her ear, gulping deeply. An innate force was telling her she stumbled across her parents conversation for a reason, and the bundle of nerves that came with such a realization washed over her in waves. Her heart drummed out a beat so solid she was experiencing difficulty hearing over its steady rhythm. From what she gathered, her parents were speaking about her being adopted, and it didn't sit well with Jennifer that they would keep a secret like that for so long.

While she loved her parents, Jennifer had felt different for most of her life. She didn't closely resemble any of her family members and felt a constant missing link in her heart, as if there were other people in the world she shared a connection with. Her feelings for her parents wouldn't change if they were to admit an adoption had taken place, so she couldn't understand why they would hide it. There was no shame in adopting a child and, in fact, they should have been applauded for taking on the responsibility if that were the case.

If Jennifer had been adopted, it would answer a ton of questions that plagued her during her short life.

"Don't start doubting yourself now. It's too late for that, Greg," Melissa's voice broke through her haze. "What's done is done, and she's ours now."

"I can't help myself. I always get like this on the anniversary of the day we got her."

"Pipe down, would you?" Melissa responded in a hushed tone. "She'll be back in here any minute, and we don't need her hearing any of this. She's got nursing school and friends to focus on, and I'll be damned if we spill the beans this late in the game. It doesn't matter how we came to be her parents, because I love my daughter."

"I love her too," Greg added.

Jennifer rested her back against the wall, which connected the two rooms, as she attempted to make sense of the result of her eavesdropping. Oftentimes, adoptive parents waited until their children were older to tell them how they came into existence as a part of the family, but at 22 years of age, Jennifer was more than old enough to be in the know. With a quickly multiplying queue of questions lining her mind, the only two options were to question them about it or pretend she hadn't heard anything at all. Against her better judgment, but knowing she couldn't sleep that night without answers, Jennifer stepped into the kitchen.

"Am I adopted?"

"What?" Melissa's face contorted in horror as she regarded Jennifer. Gregory's mouth formed a wide oval as his eyes darted guiltily from Jennifer to Melissa and back again.

"Am I adopted?" Jennifer tried again.

"What would make you ask us something like that?" Melissa questioned as she took a casual sip from her mug. She was trying to play it cool, but Jennifer could hear the slight tremble in her voice that betrayed her innermost secrets and thrust her deception on display for all to behold. Something was going on, and she wouldn't stop until she knew exactly what it was.

"You and Dad were just talking about me, I heard it."

"Well then you shouldn't be eavesdropping, should you?" Melissa wiped her hands on her apron and stood from the table. "Come and help with the cookies. They need to be decorated before I start on dinner."

"But you guys were just talking about me."

"Jennifer, that's enough," her mother scolded, sending her an icy stare. "You can either come and help or go up to your room."

"I'm too tired to help, I'll be in my room," was all Jennifer said before she swiveled on her heel and left.

On the way out, she ran her fingertips over Dusty's head, which was about all she had the power to do. Her suspicions were in rapid-fire mode, each of them bouncing off the other before being pushed aside by new formations. Under normal circumstances, the possibility of being adopted wasn't a big deal, but there remained a red flag alert forming in the pit of her stomach that was urging her something wasn't right. She tossed a glance behind herself after reaching the top of the stairs, and when she was sure she wasn't being followed, Jennifer darted down the hallway and into her parents' bedroom.

If they were going to act funny and go silent when she was asking perfectly reasonable questions, she would just have to find the answers alone. Playing detective might be enjoyable, especially if her search turned up nothing and she was simply being paranoid to begin with. Drumming her fingertips on her thigh as she contemplated where to search first, her eyes fell upon the closet. It was an enclosure of the large, walk-in variety, where she knew for a fact her parents kept many important documents, and it made the most sense to begin the search there.

Little did Jennifer know, the answers she was after weren't lurking too far away.

"This is excellent pot roast, Linda," Marissa complimented, as she smiled at her from across the dinner table. In the midst of such a trying day, with solemn thoughts of Stephanie running rampant, she desired to say anything that might lighten the mood a bit. There was also the undeniable fact that the pot roast did happen to be insanely delectable.

"Thank you," Linda returned Marissa's kind smile, but the vacant look in her eyes told the story of a heartbroken mother. She was missing her child, and though there had never been solid evidence as to whether Stephanie was dead or alive, the assumption was that she was no longer with them. Most abductors kill their victims within the first 48 hours, and even though nobody in the family said it aloud, the doubt resided in the backs of their minds.

"Pass the potatoes?" Vince requested of Shane. Sighing loudly, he took a stand against the tension and addressed the rather large elephant in the room.

"Can we talk about Stephanie?" Shane asked, not making a move for the bowl Vince was in pursuit of. "I'm so sick of this weight coming down on us every year on the anniversary of the day she went missing. We all obviously miss her, but nobody wants to just come out and say it, and I'm sick of it. I think about my sister all the time and what life would have been like if she had been around growing up. I don't want to have to hold that in just because you guys can't admit your true feelings."

"I see," Vince set his fork down with a clink and folded his hands in front of himself. "You want to talk about Stephanie?"

"That would be nice, yeah," Shane nodded.

Vince lowered his hands and regarded Shane with softened eyes. "Well then," he cleared his throat, "let's talk about her."

She found nothing more than a large shoebox at first glance, but with a little added snooping, Jennifer removed the top to reveal a large stack of documents that led her to believe it was anything but typical. At the top of the pile was her birth certificate and social security card, both boasting her full name: Jennifer Renee Crandall. Skipping the basics and getting to the goods, she sat Indian-style in the closet and pulled another larger box towards herself. She was in the process of closing it back up after not finding anything of interest, until a stack of newspaper clippings caught her eye.

Feeling guilty for spying on her parents but realizing she was too far in to stop, Jennifer reached inside and pulled the articles out. The top clipping appeared to be from a newspaper in Connecticut, and the headline alerted there was a missing child the local police needed help finding. As she began reading, the information connected with her in a way she didn't entirely understand but gave her a warm feeling inside. Something wasn't adding up and it was her job to fill in the missing blanks, so she continued reading in hopes that something, anything, would jump out at her.

Police Search For Abducted Child : Girl Was Taken From CT Mall

December 24, 1979 | By: Michelle Taylor

Police Sunday night searched Greenwich and all surrounding areas in Fairfield County for any sign of a 3-year-old girl abducted from a strip mall. Authorities say the daughter of Vince and Linda McMahon, Stephanie, was brought into the mall by her mother around 6:15 PM local time and was abducted around thirty minutes later.

Lt. Dustin Spear announced a search party is being formed and will be combing the outdoors later this evening. Both parents are cooperative in the ongoing investigation and will be present during the search. If you have any information about the disappearance of Stephanie Marie McMahon, call the Greenwich Police.

As Jennifer's blood ran cold and she sorted through multiple articles almost identical to the first, her heart and mind were telling her something wasn't right. A brief conversation between her parents wasn't enough, by itself, to add fuel to her skepticism, but when all the tiny points were added, they grew overwhelming. Her doubt was a build-up of a multitude of suspect behavior from her parents over the years. She leaned back against the shelf as the troubling facts she tried to suppress for so long came flooding to the forefront.

Her parents hadn't been able to produce her birth certificate or social security card until she was 16, and even then, it took an enormous amount of prodding. In addition, they had dyed her hair from dark brown to blond since she was a child — a child — under the pretenses that it was a fun experiment to see how she would look with hair the same color as theirs. There was also the case that, aside from her artificially blond hair, Jennifer bore not a single resemblance to either of her parents. Beyond that, they had been unable to produce any baby pictures of her until she threatened to question her extended family with regard to it, and even then, she wasn't able to confirm the origins of the images they presented her with. As if that wasn't enough, her parents didn't have her on videotape any earlier than age four or five.

All summed up, it became obvious something was amiss, but Jennifer shoved those feelings down in favor of trusting the only parents she had ever known. It wasn't easy to doubt the people who raised her for so many years, especially not considering she loved them unquestionably. Her parents were all she had ever known and embodied her ideals of safety and comfort, but that didn't mean they couldn't still have their faults. Part of the reason she kept quiet for so many years and didn't require more specific answers of them was because she didn't want to believe they would do anything wrong. They were the lights of her life, and she didn't want them to fade out.

The unspoken nuances Jennifer picked up on over the years, combined with the conversation she had been privy to earlier, were enough to make her suspect she might have a different background than the one her parents had raised her to believe. After replacing the top on the shoe box and sliding it back where she found it, Jennifer brought the articles with her and jogged into her bedroom undetected. It was only after making sure the lock on her door was in place that she took a seat in her rolling computer chair and slid in front of the monitor. Taking a deep, placating breath and placing the articles in her lap, she booted up her desktop PC and brought up a search engine.

There hadn't been a picture of the missing girl included in the article, so she hoped there might be one located somewhere online. Jennifer typed the name of the girl into the box and tapped the enter key, pursing her lips and letting some trapped air out in a whistle while she waited. Jennifer was tapping her foot impatiently against the floor when a scratching sound emanated from the other side of her door, along with a series of high-pitched, whimpering pleas. "I'm coming, Dusty! I'll be right there, sweetie-pie," she called out.

Annoyed with the unimpressive speed at which her computer performed, Jennifer blew a tuft of hair away from her face and began sorting through the stack of papers in her hand to pass the time. The gist of the follow-up articles was that the girl had gone missing and was never found, but it didn't make sense to Jennifer that her parents would hold onto something like that unless it bore some sort of significant meaning. A windy storm was brewing within the confines of her mind, and even as she questioned the situation, her brain was already starting to form the answer, though it was one she didn't approve of. It hurt to think her entire life could have been a lie and that the articles could be, in any way, related to her, but all it took was the final paper at the bottom of the stack to shut her psyche down completely.

Hysteria shot through her body, clutching her lungs in its grasp and squeezing with all its might. A low cry from the back of her throat formed a mixture of a gasp and guffaw. If she would have shuffled through all the papers, Jennifer surely would have noticed it sooner. Included on a small flier of the missing girl, which was crinkling right before her eyes from the pressure with which she held it, was an age-enhanced photo of what the missing girl might look like at her current age, assuming she was still alive. With a photo that was essentially acting as a mirrored image of her own face, Jennifer could only come up with a single explanation as to what she was viewing with her very own eyes.

Her parents had held onto the articles because she was the missing girl from Connecticut.

Her true, given name was not Jennifer Renee Crandall; it was Stephanie.

Stephanie Marie McMahon.