I won Olympic gold at 14... then I received a letter that changed everything I thought I knew about my life

A few weekends from now, Dominique Moceanu and her son Vincent will leave Ohio for New Orleans. They're off to watch the US gymnastics championships, to gaze into the future and back at the past.

Vincent, 16, is an Olympic hopeful with aspirations of competing in 2026 - just as his mother did three decades ago.

Back in 1995, back in New Orleans, Dominique became national all-around champion at just 13 years old. She remains the youngest ever winner.

'That's a title I hold near and dear to my heart,' Dominique, now 43, tells the Daily Mail.

It was a breakthrough victory and it put her on course for Olympic gold at the 1996 Atlanta Games. It was also when everything began to change, because around the same time, in a tiny Illinois town, Jen Bricker-Bauer found herself drawn to gymnastics and to Dominique.

No matter that she was born without legs. The sport was 'in her DNA' and one day, when she was eight or nine, Jen noticed something strange: she bore a striking resemblance to the gymnast on her TV.

'I was adopted, nobody looked like me,' Jen, 37, recalls. One day, she even asked her adoptive parents: 'What if we're sisters?'

It wasn't a serious question. But three decades on, Jen is looking at Dominique on a screen once more. Both are on a Zoom call with the Daily Mail because it takes two to tell this remarkable tale.

Neither knew in 1995 that it was Dominique's parents who gave Jen up for adoption on the day she was born, out of fear that they would struggle to afford her medical bills.

Their mother never even had a chance to hold the baby. And so, for nearly 20 years, these sisters trod parallel paths. 'It's just a miracle,' Jen says, 'that I would even be watching [the competition], that I would see her.'

Dominque and her younger sibling Christina grew up the daughters of Romanian immigrants, former gymnasts Dumitru and Camelia, who fled Eastern Europe in search of an American dream. By age 9, Dominique was training 40 hours a week in the gym. It was an 'isolated' and, at times, abusive upbringing.

Jen was born without legs due to a genetic defect. But she learned how to ride horses, how to play softball and volleyball, and how to master a gymnastics discipline called power tumbling. She ended up performing acrobatics on tour with Britney Spears.

Jen never met her biological father but last year, thanks to an administrative error and a private investigator and many years spent re-stitching old bonds, the family spent a first Thanksgiving together. Camelia cooked the turkey for her children and grandchildren.

'It's just really special,' Jen says. 'A wild ride,' adds Dominque.

Jen can't remember the first time she saw Dominique perform. But it was before the 1996 Olympics, when – as part of the 'Magnificent Seven' – the 14-year-old made history in winning team all-around gold.

By then, Jen had already fallen in love with gymnastics. No one pushed her toward the sport. There wasn't even a proper training facility where she grew up. 'It was just this innate thing in me,' she says. 'And then I finally saw somebody who I could relate to.'

Jen didn't consider it 'mysterious' at the time. She was six years younger than Dominique and had no reason to suspect her parents were keeping secrets. Sharon and Gerald Bricker were always open about her adoption. They reportedly ignored doctors' advice to carry Jen around in a bucket-like device, and instead taught her she could do anything.

She grew to become state champion in power tumbling and competed in the 1998 Junior Olympics. Two years earlier, Dominque had taken gold in Atlanta.

'I'd always begged my mom for a sister,' she says. 'I was alone for the first eight years.' And then Christina came along.

The Moceanus had arrived from Communist Romania around 1980 and the story goes that, at 6 months old, Dominique was hung on the washing line. It was a test of her strength and she clung on until it snapped. By age 3, she had begun gymnastics. It soon became 'a full-time job'. A costly one.

Dominique accused her father of emotional and physical abuse. He slapped her for gaining weight and for keeping a secret stash of food. Even on the day she won gold, the teen feared her dad's temper - she botched a couple of landings.

Even on the day she won gold, the teen feared her dad's red mist. She had botched a couple of landings and was left 'devastated' and 'heartbroken'.

A few years later, at just 17, Dominique sued her parents, seeking independence and accusing them of squandering her gymnastics earnings.

'There weren't a lot of people who penetrated our world,' Dominique says. 'I was very isolated.' Dumitru took jobs at a cafeteria, a Greek restaurant and as a car salesman.

'They worked very hard to live that American dream,' Dominique says. 'Was everything perfect at home? No… (but) sometimes we learn our hardest lessons through the most difficult times in our life. And I can tell you that I've had many, many of those.'

It was an innocent question that ultimately brought these two sisters into one orbit.

Jen was 16 when a childhood friend – who had also been adopted – revealed that she had discovered her birth name.

'Up until that point, I was just at peace,' Jen says. She knew her biological family was from Romania and she had been taught not to hold anything against her birth parents. 'Don't hate them,' the Brickers said. 'You just don't know what was going on in their life.'

But suddenly she was curious about her own name.

The Brickers had already connected the dots, after TV cameras once cut to Dominique's parents and their names appeared on screen.

'When they said (Moceanu), I immediately knew what that meant,' Jen says. And a bit of internet digging told her she had two sisters to track down. Conveniently, Jen's uncle worked as a private investigator and he helped her find Dumitru and Camelia.

At first, they didn't deny putting Jen up for adoption. But then communication dried up, so Jen decided to write to Dominique.

'I knew it needed to be done the right way,' she says. 'I didn't want to come across like some weirdo.' Her adoption was supposed to remain confidential but, thankfully, a clerical error meant names and signatures appeared on some documents.

It took Jen four years to head to the post office with copies of those papers as well as pictures and a letter to Dominique. She decided not to mention her legs. 'One thing at a time,' Jen thought.

Dominique picked up the package in late 2007. By then, she had stopped competing. She was back in school and heavily pregnant.

It was the pictures that first caught her attention - the girl was a spitting image of Christina. 'Then all of a sudden, I saw legal documents,' she continues. 'That was proof that this was not somebody just trying to get close to me, which I've had many people do.'

It all became too much when she found the letter and the line about Jen's biological name.

'Just water works,' Dominique recalls. 'I felt like the wind was knocked out of me… it changed everything I knew about my life.'

She called her mom, who confirmed it was true. 'Then I went to the Walmart parking lot,' Dominque continues. She had an errand to run. But she never ended up going inside. 'I just sat there.' In tears.

It took her two weeks to reply and tell Jen that she was about to become an auntie.

'It couldn't have been a better acceptance,' Jen says.

The sisters spoke on the phone shortly after and then, in May 2008, they met for the very first time. 'Just very surreal, Jen says. 'Wow, this life that God chose for me.'

For their mother, Camelia, the path to Thanksgiving 2024 was less smooth. Dumitru made the decision to give Jen up but his dying wish was to meet her. In the end, his widow was left to battle guilt, sorrow and shame. 'I can't even imagine what that was like,' Jen says.

But something changed in 2019, shortly before Jen married her husband Dominik.

She took a call from the mother that raised her: 'Camelia has to be at your wedding,' Sharon said. 'She deserves to be there.'

On the day, Camelia and Sharon held hands as they walked down the aisle together.

'Something broke free from her after the wedding,' Jen says. 'That was a breakthrough moment in our relationship.'

Dominique, who shares three children with her husband Michael Canales, is now a coach with her own gymnastics center near Cleveland. Her testimony proved critical in untangling the web of abuse in American gymnastics. Jen, meanwhile, is a best-selling author and public speaker.

Her son, Malachi, was born only 14 months after Dominique's youngest, Victoria.

The sisters noticed immediate similarities in their handwriting and laughs. They now share hand-me-down clothes and a love of memes. They were all reunited last Thanksgiving. 'After all these years,' Jen says.

It was a day to watch Christmas movies and hang out. Just like sisters do.

'I will forever be grateful to Jen's family and to Jen for coming in it with an open heart,' Dominique says. 'Jen's mom and dad were so welcoming and they didn't teach Jen how to have hate. Had they not opened that door the way they did with Jen, things could be very different.'