How could I have known so many years ago, when I first learned about - and began to question - my existence, that there were no real answers? There were stories. Most of them true. But they were only stories, with no answers in them. And, try as they might, none of my protectors had ever been able to find the truth that would explain me. Truth that might have saved so many lives these last months. Lives lost protecting me, my honorary uncle among them. How many more lives would be lost to save mine? Because so many people wanted to find me for so many reasons and would go to any lengths for those reasons. Any lengths at all. In the end, would my life be lost to them, also? Because, despite all the attempts to figure me out, no one had been able to so far. I was a complete mystery. An enigma. A phenomenon. Because my father wasn't really my father. The truth was, I had no father. I was - I am - the virgin's daughter.