Chapter 3 - THE FIRST LIE
Damian didn’t react.
That scared me more than if he had shouted.
He simply stared at the nurse.
“Run it again.”
“We already did.”
“Again.”
“Mr. Caruso—”
“Run it again.”
The nurse left.
I watched him.
“You didn’t know.”
“No.”
“You really thought Leah was your biological daughter?”
“Yes.”
“But your wife used St. Catherine’s.”
His jaw flexed.
“Elena had a difficult pregnancy.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I believed what doctors told me.”
“That seems to be going around.”
His eyes met mine.
For once, he didn’t have a comeback.
Leah was asleep on the hospital couch, wrapped in Damian’s coat.
Even sleeping, one hand clutched the velvet rabbit.
I sat beside her.
“Tell me everything.”
Damian remained standing.
“Elena became pregnant after years of trying.”
“Okay.”
“She nearly miscarried twice.”
“And?”
“During the last month, I was in London handling a crisis.”
“You missed the birth?”
His face tightened.
“I came back the next day.”
“What did Elena tell you?”
“That there were complications. That she had delivered early.”
“And you never questioned it?”
“I held a baby in my arms.”
His voice sharpened.
“What exactly was I supposed to question?”
Fair point.
“Then why take a DNA test now?”
Damian looked toward the window.
“Because two weeks before Elena died, she asked me something strange.”
“What?”
“She asked if I would still love Leah if I learned she wasn’t mine.”
A chill moved down my back.
“What did you say?”
“That she was my daughter no matter what.”
“And Elena?”
“She cried.”
He looked at Leah.
“I thought she was scared because of her depression.”
“What if she already knew?”
He said nothing.
A phone buzzed.
His security chief answered.
His expression turned grim.
“We found Reeves’s apartment.”
“And?”
“Empty.”
“Search it.”
“Already did.”
The man hesitated.
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
“He left in a hurry.”
“So?”
“He burned documents in the kitchen sink.”
Damian’s eyes narrowed.
“Anything survive?”
“One piece.”
The guard held up a plastic evidence sleeve.
Inside was a blackened piece of paper.
Only part of one line was readable.
BABY GIRL CARTER.
My last name.
My knees almost gave out.
“That’s me.”
Damian took the paper.
Below my name was another line.
TRANSFER AUTHORIZATION.
“No.”
I grabbed it.
“No. There was no transfer. My baby died.”
Damian looked at me.
“Maybe she didn’t.”
A sound came from the couch.
Leah was awake.
She sat up slowly.
“Mama.”
I pressed my hands over my face.
“Please don’t.”
Leah climbed down.
She walked to me and touched my wrist.
Then she did something strange.
She pulled up her sleeve.
On the inside of her left arm was a tiny crescent-shaped birthmark.
I stopped breathing.
My daughter had the same mark.
I knew because I had seen it in the final ultrasound.
The technician had laughed and called it a little moon.
I stared at Leah’s arm.
Damian saw my face.
“What?”
“My baby had that.”
He stepped closer.
“You’re certain?”
“Yes.”
Before he could answer, every light in the hospital room went out.
Darkness swallowed us.
Leah screamed.
A gunshot cracked in the hallway.
Damian shoved me behind the bed.
“Get down!”
Another gunshot.
Glass shattered.
Men shouted.
I grabbed Leah and pulled her against my chest.
She was shaking violently.
Damian drew a gun from beneath his jacket.
I stared at him.
“You brought a gun into a hospital?”
“Not the time, Emma.”
Footsteps rushed closer.
The door burst open.
Damian raised his weapon.
His security chief appeared.
“We have to move. Now.”
“Who is it?”
“No idea.”
“Police?”
“No.”
The security chief looked at me.
“They’re here for her.”
“For Leah?”
May you like
He shook his head.
“For Emma.”
