Chapter 2

Margaret arrived at my apartment at eight the next morning with a leather folder and no invitation.

She walked past me before I could object, set the papers on the kitchen table, and began marking pages with a silver pen.

"Roman has already signed. You sign where I marked. The settlement will be transferred after the waiting period."

I had slept maybe an hour.

Victor Bennett's words had followed me through the night. He had told me not to tell anyone what he suspected. Verify first. Speak later. Sign nothing until his office reviewed it.

So I poured coffee and sat across from Margaret as though this were an ordinary morning.

She glanced around the apartment. "You'll need to arrange somewhere else to stay. This property belongs to Roman."

"Of course it does."

She missed the sarcasm.

"Serena doesn't want to live here. Still, Roman may sell it, and I'd rather not have this become difficult."

I looked down at the divorce papers.

"What do you know about her?"

Margaret paused. "Serena?"

"The Moretti story."

Her face changed immediately. She liked that subject.

"Enough to know it's settled. Alessandro's granddaughter disappeared when she was six. There was an accident, then confusion, then years in the foster system. Serena was finally traced through old records."

Six.

I stopped stirring my coffee.

Margaret continued, unaware. "Awful childhood, apparently. Church home, foster placements, never knowing where she belonged. It makes one admire how well she carries herself."

"What church home?"

Margaret gave me an impatient look. "St. Helena's, I think."

The spoon hit the side of my mug.

St. Helena Children's Home was where I had lived, not somewhere I had visited or volunteered.

"What else did she say?"

Margaret frowned. "Why do you care?"

"I'm curious about the woman Roman chose."

That answer pleased her enough to continue. She mentioned Serena having no photographs from before six. Moving through several foster homes. Keeping shoes beside the bed because she was afraid of being moved again without warning.

My coffee went untouched.

For two years at St. Helena, I had slept in my shoes.

I had never told the staff why, or any of my foster parents, or even my closest friend from school. Roman was the only person I had told.

It had been during our first trip after we married. I woke from a nightmare and found myself halfway out of bed, reaching for shoes that were not there. Roman sat with me until dawn while I explained what it felt like to be a child who never unpacked completely.

He had kissed my hair and promised I would never need to be ready to leave again.

Now another woman was using that memory as proof of who she was.

Margaret pushed the papers closer.

"Sign."

I looked at Roman's name at the bottom of the final page.

Yesterday I had thought he had simply stopped loving me; today, that explanation seemed almost kind.

"I'll have a lawyer review them first."

She laughed. "What lawyer?"

"Mine."

"You don't have one."

"I do now."

Her smile disappeared.

She gathered her handbag but left the papers. At the door, she turned back.

"Do not make the mistake of thinking this gives you leverage. Roman is moving on. Serena is carrying Roman's child and belongs to a family you could never understand."

I almost asked which one of us she meant.

Instead, I opened the door for her.

As soon as the elevator closed, my phone rang.

Victor Bennett.

"There's a car waiting for you downstairs," he said. "Mr. Moretti's condition worsened overnight."

My fingers tightened around the phone. "Before I go anywhere, I need an answer."

"I'll give you what I can."

"Who approved Serena's DNA test?"

Silence lasted long enough to matter.

"Alessandro Moretti did not."

I sat down.

Bennett explained without giving me a lecture. The report Serena's lawyers had shown people came from a private laboratory the Morettis had never used. The paperwork looked convincing, but Alessandro had refused to accept it as final.

"Then why is everyone treating her like his granddaughter?"

"Because she arrived with records, dates, details and a story that fit what people wanted to believe. Mr. Moretti is ill. Some people around him were eager for an answer."

"And you weren't?"

"I have spent nineteen years looking at wrong answers."

That shut me up.

He continued, "Three days ago, we located an old personal item kept with your childhood records. We had it tested against a sample from Mr. Moretti."

My pulse began to beat harder.

"You tested me?"

"Yes."

"What did it say?"

"I want you to see it yourself."

I stood and looked around the apartment I had shared with Roman. A framed wedding photo sat on the shelf beside the kitchen. He was smiling at me in it, not at the camera.

I used to love that picture.

I picked it up and placed it face down in a drawer.

"Where are you taking me?"

"First to the office. Then, if you are willing, to Alessandro."

"And the result?"

"You'll have it in your hands before we leave."

I closed my eyes.

"Tell me one thing. Is Serena lying?"

Bennett took a breath.

"I can tell you this much, Ms. Voss. Whatever is happening around Serena Kane, Alessandro Moretti never gave anyone permission to replace the granddaughter he lost."