Cruella awoke the morning of October thirty-first to the sound of her daughter laughing. A sleepy smile crossed her features as the laughter continued. Her child was always so happy. She reminded her of Lynn that way. She stretched and sat up as the laughter changed into happy cries of "Mummy!"

Still smiling, she reached over and seized the specially designed baby monitor. She pressed a small blue button, and her daughter's cries ceased.

"Hold on darling, Mummy's coming," she called through the device.

Releasing the button, more laughter met her ears. Standing, she threw on her robe and cinched it loosely around her waist before going down the hall to the baby's room. She only paused briefly outside of what used to be Lynn's room before continuing on. Opening the door to the nursery revealed her daughter, smiling and happily clapping her hands as she laid eyes on her mother. As Cruella approached the crib, Angel pulled herself up to stand, gripping the bars for support.

"Mummy!" the little girl cried happily while reaching toward her mother. "Morning, Mummy!"

"Good morning, my darling," the woman said as she lifted her out of the crib. "Do you know what today is?"

"Ha'ween?" Angel asked, unsure if she was correct, even if Alonzo had just told her about it the day before.

"Well yes, but there's something else that makes today special."

"What?"

"It's your birthday, sweetheart. You're one year old today."

"What's a bir'day?" the child asked in confusion.

"Well," Cruella said as she walked over to the rocker and sat down. "A birthday is a certain day of the year that a person celebrates when they were born. One year ago today, you were born."

She watched as Angel processed this information. She was surprisingly intelligent for a toddler, having begun speaking at eight months old, and talking in full sentences at ten months. She was far ahead of other children her age, at least that's what she was told by the pediatrician. She also possessed a depth of understanding that impressed anyone who had ever come in contact with her. She never mentioned Lynn, though Cruella wasn't sure if this was because she couldn't remember her or because she simply didn't understand why she was no longer with them.

"Bir'day?" Angel asked again.

"Yes darling, birthday." The baby smiled, and Cruella smiled back. "Since it's your birthday-"

She was cut off as Alonzo came into the room. She glared at him, and he shrank back, fully aware that he was not to interrupt her for any reason, especially when she was with Angel. His hand shook as he held out the envelope he had just received. She eyed it with barely concealed contempt.

"Well, what do you want?" His mouth moved, but no words were forthcoming. "Out with it!" she snapped, losing what little patience she had.

"A l-l-letter, M-Madame."

He took a step closer and gave it to her, jumping back as soon as her fingers closed around it. She merely flicked her fingers at him and he scurried away, more than happy to let her be. Absentmindedly, she reached over and handed her daughter a bottle, which she readily took. Using her nails, she easily tore open the envelope. Her eyes teared up as she pulled out the pages within, each of them covered in familiar handwriting, the same handwriting she thought she'd never see again.

Dearest Cruella,

If you're reading this then our daughter is one year old today. I say 'our' and not 'my' for a reason. I know I should tell you this in person, but I'm not sure how. Maybe by the time this letter arrives I'll have already told you and it won't matter anyway. So, here goes.

Angel isn't the result of a sperm donor. She is legitimately our daughter by DNA. I know you're probably scoffing in disbelief, and I know I'm probably beside you biting my lip nervously and the baby is on the floor playing with whatever toys you've decided to spoil her with on this special day, but hear me out.

Do you recall those horrible months when I was trying to conceive? Of course you do, that was a stupid question. Well, after two failed attempts at insemination I was frustrated and spoke to my gynecologist about my fears. I was so stressed and depressed, not only because I thought there was something wrong with me, but because I also knew that my child would be the heir to your fortune as well as mine. When I mentioned this to her, she told me about an experimental procedure.

It was only in its beginning stages, she warned me. There was a strong possibility that it wouldn't work. The procedure was this-a child could be born to a couple of the same sex and it would be truly theirs using genetic material from both the parents. We aren't a couple I know, but I thought it would be a good idea for the De Vil heir to actually be a De Vil. I agreed to try it, to be a guinea pig so to speak.

Here Cruella had to stop reading, shock coursing through her veins. She looked down on her adopted daughter, who, if Lynn was telling the truth, and she had no reason to lie, was actually her daughter by blood. Angel had finished her bottle and was contentedly sucking her thumb, curled against her chest. She looked back to the letter.

Getting my DNA was easy. They simply removed and froze one of my eggs. Now, getting your DNA proved to be quite a bit harder. I didn't want to tell you in case the procedure didn't take, so I resigned myself to getting the DNA without your knowing. To make a long story short, I took a few hairs from your hairbrush.

Somehow, they extracted your DNA and basically impregnated my egg. That day that we went in for "artificial insemination"? They were really putting my fertilized egg back in my womb. The reason we had to wait was the same as if I'd used a sperm donor; they wanted to make sure it was a success. As you know, it was, and now we have a beautiful little miracle to call our own.

She stopped yet again and looked down at her child. While it was true that in the past she thought she saw some of herself in the child, she had shaken it off as wishful thinking. But now, now it all made sense.

Before you curse me out or slap me or cry or whatever it is you're planning on doing to me, know that I wanted to tell you the minute the nurse told me I was pregnant. But I didn't know how. And then you were so doting while I carried her. I wanted to tell you so many times, just blurt it out for the world to hear. "Cruella, this is your baby, too!"

But I couldn't seem to find the courage or the right opportunity. And when you held her and cut her umbilical cord...It was like there was only the three of us in the entire world. It was wonderful, and I wanted to tell you then too, but again, I wasn't brave enough.

Hopefully, as I said before, by the time this letter reaches Inferno Hall I'll have told you all of this. Hopefully when you read this letter you'll laugh at my cowardice the way that you do that somehow conveys that while you're amused, you also don't think less of me. And hopefully instead of terrifying the baby with an argument we'll hug and cuddle on the couch in the parlor as she plays with all her new toys. But most of all, I hope that if this is the first time you're hearing this because I still couldn't bring myself to tell you, I hope you'll forgive me. Forgive me for lying to you and keeping this secret that very much involves you.

I didn't mean to lie, but I guess that's what ended up happening. And in case you're wondering how this letter didn't arrive weeks after our daughter was born...let's just say I coerced a friend into holding onto it until the right time. And most of all, darling, remember that I did this partly for you, so that your heir wouldn't be your godchild, but your child. Think of it as all your birthday gifts for the next twenty years lumped together. I love you very much, darling, and I truly couldn't have done this without you.

This whole year has been amazing, everything, including the nights we were so tired from pacing the halls that we played rock-paper-scissors just to see who would tend to Angel.

The doctors told me on that day so long ago to expect some resemblances to you to show up sooner or later. Personally, I hope she looks more like you. So don't be alarmed if her beautiful red hair has started to change colors. Now you know why. And I reiterate, please forgive me for keeping this from you.

Now, if you have anything you'd like to tell me, or ask me, just go ahead and do it. And if I'm not beside you while you read this, come find me. I'm most likely in my room, pacing the floor. And if you are angry, all I ask is that you don't leave a mark when you slap me.

Love,

Lynn

Cruella's hand fell to her side slowly, shock, happiness, a bit of anger, and a good chunk of sadness swirling in her heart. She believed her Lynn darling, especially when she shifted through the rest of the papers. There was a copy of Angel's birth certificate, on which her name was listed in the father blank with father having been crossed out and mother written underneath. There was also a DNA test, and if she hadn't believed before she certainly did now, considering the evidence was right in front of her. She still couldn't quite wrap her mind around it.

She looked down at her daughter. Really looked, for the first time since she was born. She took in every inch of her, and she saw it. The blue eyes, what promised to be prominent cheek bones, the aristocratic features, and she had noticed the once vibrant red hair was changing colors, going darker on one side and lighter on the other. Her skin tone was Lynn's, as was her eye shape and nose, and of course her personality, but it looked like the De Vil genes had dominated in the long run.

Now she understood why everyone automatically assumed she was her daughter. She had tried to tell them many times that she had only adopted her, would sometimes whip out the papers that had covered the custody trial to prove it. But now there would be no more of that. It was if the past year had never happened, so different did she feel. Love that had come freely anyway seemed to grow to an immeasurable amount, and pride swelled through her.

"Mummy, play?" Angel asked, tugging on her sleeve and breaking her train of thought.

She smiled down at her daughter, and couldn't refrain from scattering kisses across her face, causing her to squeal and laugh.

"Of course, darling. Why don't we go downstairs and open your birthday presents. Would you like that?"

"Pesent! Pesent! Open pesent, Mummy!"

That was one word she knew, as she was constantly receiving them. Laughing, the woman picked up the little girl and started downstairs to where she knew several brightly colored packages waited.

Later that night, after giving Angel her bath, reading her a story, and tucking her in, Cruella went into Lynn's room for the first time since the accident. She sat on the bed, which still faintly smelled like her, and cried. She cried for all the moments the young woman had missed, cried because she missed her, cried because she was mad at her, cried because she was still trying to cope. She cried until her eye were sore and there were no tears left to shed. Eventually, when her sobs had subsided into sniffles and she could breathe again, she began to talk.

"I miss you, you know," she said, her voice rough. "When you died you took a piece of me with you. And then there's Angel. Couldn't you have told me before...? And you've missed so much..."

She talked and talked, telling her best friend about their daughter's first words and her first sentence. How she loved the fashion house, and how she was so much like her. About her first steps, which she had taken earlier in the day. And when she had talked herself out, she curled up beneath the blankets and sheets that still had Lynn's scent and fell asleep, her dreams filled with what could have been and with what used to be. And as she fell asleep, she could have sworn she felt a kiss on her forehead.