Chapter 2

Vivienne's smile didn't waver. That was the most terrifying thing about her — the way cruelty sat so comfortably behind her beauty.

"Her mother?" She let out a delicate, pitying laugh. "Oh, Selene. The surrogacy hormones must have confused you. You were an oven. Nothing more."

She stepped closer, her perfume — Theodore's favorite — thick in the air. "The embryo was mine and Theodore's. You just… held it for a while."

"The embryo was mine," I said, my voice steady. "There was an error at the fertility clinic. Or maybe not an error at all."

For the first time, something flickered behind Vivienne's composure. A crack, hairline-thin.

"You're delusional," she said. But her hand reached for the edge of the dresser, steadying herself.

I pulled the DNA report from my bag and set it on Lily's small play table, between a stuffed rabbit and a half-eaten cracker.

"Ninety-nine point nine-seven percent match," I said. "Mother to daughter."

Vivienne stared at the paper. Her jaw tightened. Then she did something I didn't expect.

She snatched the report and tore it in half.

"Nobody will believe you," she said, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "You're a nobody. A secretary with a community college degree and a sad little crush on her boss. Theodore chose me. He loves me. And when we're married next month, I'll be Lily's legal mother."

She leaned in close, so close I could see the flecks of gold in her green eyes.

"Try to take her from me, and I'll bury you."

I held Lily tighter. The little girl's face was pressed into my neck, her tears hot against my skin.

"You can tear up every report in the world," I said. "The DNA is in her blood. It doesn't disappear because you want it to."

Vivienne's expression hardened into something feral. She reached for Lily, her manicured nails closing around the child's arm.

"Give her to me. Now."

Lily screamed.

The sound — high, terrified, animal — split the air. It was the cry of a child who had been hurt by those hands before and knew what they meant.

I didn't let go.

Vivienne pulled harder. I felt Lily's small body stretch between us, a tug-of-war over a four-year-old.

"Let go!" I snapped, my vision tunneling.

The front door opened. Heavy footsteps in the hall.

"What the hell is going on?"

Theodore stood in the doorway of the nursery, his coat still on, his briefcase in hand. He'd come home early.

Vivienne released Lily instantly. The transition was seamless — she stumbled backward, clutched her wrist, and let tears spring to her eyes.

"Theodore! Thank God you're here!" She held up her wrist, where my grip had left faint red marks. "Selene barged in and started pulling Lily away from me. She's — I think she's having some kind of breakdown."

Theodore's eyes swept the scene. His fiancée, trembling and crying. His assistant, holding his daughter in a death grip, her face flushed with fury.

"Selene?" His voice was cautious, the way you'd talk to someone standing on a ledge. "Put Lily down."

"Look at her face," I said, tilting Lily's chin so he could see the welt. "Look at what Vivienne did."

Theodore looked. His brow creased.

Vivienne was faster. "She fell off the rocking horse. I told you we needed to get rid of that thing. It's too tall for her."

Theodore knelt and examined the mark on Lily's cheek. His jaw tightened. Then he turned to me, and I saw it — the moment he chose.

"Selene, I think you should leave."

"Theodore, look at the shape of that mark. That's not from a fall. That's a handprint."

"I said leave." His voice hardened. He took Lily from my arms — gently, but firmly. The little girl whimpered and reached for me.

"Daddy, Selene is nice to me," she whispered. "Selene doesn't hit."

The room went dead silent.

Theodore froze. Vivienne's face went white.

Then Vivienne crumpled to the floor, sobbing. "She's been coaching her! Selene has been coming here behind my back, filling Lily's head with lies! She's obsessed with you, Theodore. Everyone in the office knows it."

Theodore looked at me. I saw the war in his eyes — the tiny seed of doubt — and then I watched Vivienne's tears drown it.

"Get out," he said. "And don't come back. You're fired."

Lily screamed my name as I was escorted out by building security. Her small voice echoed down the marble hallway, growing fainter with every step.

Selene! SELENE!

The elevator doors closed.

I stood in the lobby of Theodore Ashford's building, jobless, dying, and with nothing — no money, no lawyer, no proof, because Vivienne had torn the only copy of the DNA report I'd printed.

But I still had the digital file. And I still had six months to live.

That was enough.