Maxon POV

I guessed that my father had something to do with America's disappearance but I was a bit afraid to ask him. I decided enough was enough though, it was time to find America no matter what the personal cost. I knocked on my fathers study door, heard him call,
"Enter," and walked in."Maxon," he addressed me as I approached his desk.
"Father I know you had a hand in America's disappearance and I intend to find out what it is. I think it would make both of our lives a bit easier if you told me now, because I will not stop looking until America is standing next to me in a white dress." The words tumbled out of my mouth without thinking, but I immediately knew they were true. I wanted to spend every day of my life with America. I wanted to grow old with her beside me because I loved her. I should have told her that when I could, what if I never get the chance to tell her?
"Did you just say what I think you said?" Father laughed a cruel, mirthless laugh. "You actually want to marry that price of rude, uncultured, lowly piece of filth?" He laughed again. I could feel the anger taking over my senses.
"DON'T CALL HER THAT!" I bellowed, "SHE HAS MORE KINDNESS AND POISE THEN YOU WILL EVER HAVE!" His features turned ice cold at my words. When he spoke, his voice was low and soft, which made it all the more threatening.
"Maxon, you want to know where she is? Fine. I forced her to change her identity and join the Southern rebels. I've told you, but good luck finding her." He laughed his cruel laugh once more and I walked out of his study and down the hall to my room. I put my head in my hands. America with the Southern rebels? A part of me wanted to believe that my father was lying, that he had just hidden America somewhere, but somehow, I knew he was telling the truth, and I knew that there was a good chance I would never find my love. But I knew I would sooner die than stop trying.
I had been formulating a plan for a few days, all the while avoiding my father. On the day I planned to leave, I walked into my mother's study to see her a last time. She wasn't there but I figured she'd be back any minute so I sat down and looked around. It had been a while since I had really taken a good look at my mother's study. Almost immediately I saw a little blue book. As I approached I saw it was a photo album. It said Lauren on the cover, I opened it. Inside we're pictures of a girl that looked a lot like me. On the first page a happy little baby smiled, her head covered in tufts of honey blond hair. As I looked through the pages the baby grew up. On the page for the baby's second birthday, a strange note was pasted in. I read it.
Amberly,
Don't worry about Lauren, I will take care if her like she is my own. I hope you won't miss her too much, I'll try and send photos as often as I can.
With love,
Adele
Did this mean that mother's miscarriages weren't all miscarriages? That I had... A sister?