Chapter 2

The car pulled up to the North Shore estate.

Evan opened my door and offered his hand to help me out.

I didn't refuse. I had to preserve my strength. Walking was sheer agony; pushing myself would only make the wound worse.

The moment I stepped into the foyer, I looked at the shoe cabinet.

Empty.

Every single pair of handmade Italian heels I had brought back from Europe was gone.

In their place was a row of unfamiliar women's shoes. On the top shelf sat a pair of children's sneakers.

I kept walking. In the living room, the framed photo of my father and me was missing.

It was the picture we took right before I left Vegas. My father standing behind me, his hand on my shoulder, wearing a rare smile.

Now, a massive portrait hung in its place.

Claire, wearing a white dress, smiling sweetly.

The TV stand was cluttered with children's certificates. Every single one bore the name Noah Calder.

I stood in the center of the living room, looking around.

I had lived in this house for five years, and now, there wasn't a single trace of me left.

"Where is Maria?" I asked.

The maid, Maria, had worked in this house for years, handling both the household management and the daily chores.

Evan didn't even look at me.

"She's been let go. I brought in a new domestic team. Your health is fragile. You need better care."

I turned and headed for the stairs.

Every step sent a sharp ache through my abdomen.

At the landing, a new family portrait dominated the wall.

Evan, Claire, and Noah. All three of them beaming.

The background was Walt Disney World in Orlando.

I recognized the t-shirt Evan was wearing. I bought it for him during a business trip to Paris last year.

The door to the master bedroom was open. I walked in.

Claire was sitting at my vanity, running my hairbrush through her hair.

She wore my silk robe. The scent of my shampoo filled the air.

I bought that robe in Milan for twenty-two hundred dollars. I had never even brought myself to wear it.

Her cosmetics were scattered across the vanity. My things had been shoved into a cardboard box and dumped in the corner.

Hearing my footsteps, she turned around and smiled.

"Ms. Lancaster. You're back."

"Get out."

My voice was quiet, stripped of all warmth.

She set the brush down and stood up slowly.

"Evan said this room is mine now." She said it like it was a trivial matter. "The master bedroom gets good light, and it's spacious. Noah likes it in here."

I looked at Evan.

He was standing behind me, hands in his pockets, his face entirely blank.

"Evan. Tell her to get out."

He didn't speak.

Claire paused as she walked past me.

Her eyes dropped to my abdomen, and the corner of her mouth twitched upward.

"Focus on your recovery, Ms. Lancaster. Don't worry your pretty head about the rest."

The scent of her perfume hit my nose.

Jo Malone.

She was even wearing my perfume.

The pain made my fingers curl into fists, but it kept me lucid.

Suddenly, a little boy bolted through the door and buried his face in Claire's legs.

"Mommy!"

He turned and glared at me. Six years old. His features were almost identical to Evan's.

"This is my house," I told him. "You're the ones who need to leave."

He lunged at me and shoved me hard.

I was already weak. The impact sent me stumbling backward until I slammed into the doorframe.

My lower back hit the doorknob, and the wound on my abdomen felt like it was being ripped open.

Evan's face changed. He pulled Noah back first.

"Are you okay?" He immediately stepped forward to help me.

I shoved him away in disgust, bracing myself against the frame.

When my fingertips brushed my abdomen, they came away wet and warm.

My surgical wound ripped open.

I pressed my hand hard against the wound and looked down the hall at the new nurse.

"Call 911. Tell them my surgical wound is bleeding."

Evan paled. He reached for me again.

"Don't touch me," I snapped, dodging his hand. "Noah pushed me."

Claire instantly pulled Noah behind her, her face draining of color.

"He's only six! He doesn't understand the consequences. I'll discipline him."

Evan kept his voice low, telling her to take the kid away.

Noah peeked out from Claire's embrace and stuck his tongue out at me.

"Mean lady! You're a mean lady!"

Minutes later, the paramedics arrived and rushed me back to the hospital to treat the wound.

When I finally returned to the house, I refused to step foot in that master bedroom.

"That room is as disgusting as you are now."

I turned and walked down the hall to the guest room.

The pain was a constant reminder: now was not the time for a frontal assault.

I had to wait.

Wait for my body to heal. Wait for the people from Las Vegas to find me.

Evan's voice called out from behind me.

"Mara..."

I didn't look back.

Chapter 2

The car pulled up to the North Shore estate.

Evan opened my door and offered his hand to help me out.

I didn't refuse. I had to preserve my strength. Walking was sheer agony; pushing myself would only make the wound worse.

The moment I stepped into the foyer, I looked at the shoe cabinet.

Empty.

Every single pair of handmade Italian heels I had brought back from Europe was gone.

In their place was a row of unfamiliar women's shoes. On the top shelf sat a pair of children's sneakers.

I kept walking. In the living room, the framed photo of my father and me was missing.

It was the picture we took right before I left Vegas. My father standing behind me, his hand on my shoulder, wearing a rare smile.

Now, a massive portrait hung in its place.

Claire, wearing a white dress, smiling sweetly.

The TV stand was cluttered with children's certificates. Every single one bore the name Noah Calder.

I stood in the center of the living room, looking around.

I had lived in this house for five years, and now, there wasn't a single trace of me left.

"Where is Maria?" I asked.

The maid, Maria, had worked in this house for years, handling both the household management and the daily chores.

Evan didn't even look at me.

"She's been let go. I brought in a new domestic team. Your health is fragile. You need better care."

I turned and headed for the stairs.

Every step sent a sharp ache through my abdomen.

At the landing, a new family portrait dominated the wall.

Evan, Claire, and Noah. All three of them beaming.

The background was Walt Disney World in Orlando.

I recognized the t-shirt Evan was wearing. I bought it for him during a business trip to Paris last year.

The door to the master bedroom was open. I walked in.

Claire was sitting at my vanity, running my hairbrush through her hair.

She wore my silk robe. The scent of my shampoo filled the air.

I bought that robe in Milan for twenty-two hundred dollars. I had never even brought myself to wear it.

Her cosmetics were scattered across the vanity. My things had been shoved into a cardboard box and dumped in the corner.

Hearing my footsteps, she turned around and smiled.

"Ms. Lancaster. You're back."

"Get out."

My voice was quiet, stripped of all warmth.

She set the brush down and stood up slowly.

"Evan said this room is mine now." She said it like it was a trivial matter. "The master bedroom gets good light, and it's spacious. Noah likes it in here."

I looked at Evan.

He was standing behind me, hands in his pockets, his face entirely blank.

"Evan. Tell her to get out."

He didn't speak.

Claire paused as she walked past me.

Her eyes dropped to my abdomen, and the corner of her mouth twitched upward.

"Focus on your recovery, Ms. Lancaster. Don't worry your pretty head about the rest."

The scent of her perfume hit my nose.

Jo Malone.

She was even wearing my perfume.

The pain made my fingers curl into fists, but it kept me lucid.

Suddenly, a little boy bolted through the door and buried his face in Claire's legs.

"Mommy!"

He turned and glared at me. Six years old. His features were almost identical to Evan's.

"This is my house," I told him. "You're the ones who need to leave."

He lunged at me and shoved me hard.

I was already weak. The impact sent me stumbling backward until I slammed into the doorframe.

My lower back hit the doorknob, and the wound on my abdomen felt like it was being ripped open.

Evan's face changed. He pulled Noah back first.

"Are you okay?" He immediately stepped forward to help me.

I shoved him away in disgust, bracing myself against the frame.

When my fingertips brushed my abdomen, they came away wet and warm.

My surgical wound ripped open.

I pressed my hand hard against the wound and looked down the hall at the new nurse.

"Call 911. Tell them my surgical wound is bleeding."

Evan paled. He reached for me again.

"Don't touch me," I snapped, dodging his hand. "Noah pushed me."

Claire instantly pulled Noah behind her, her face draining of color.

"He's only six! He doesn't understand the consequences. I'll discipline him."

Evan kept his voice low, telling her to take the kid away.

Noah peeked out from Claire's embrace and stuck his tongue out at me.

"Mean lady! You're a mean lady!"

Minutes later, the paramedics arrived and rushed me back to the hospital to treat the wound.

When I finally returned to the house, I refused to step foot in that master bedroom.

"That room is as disgusting as you are now."

I turned and walked down the hall to the guest room.

The pain was a constant reminder: now was not the time for a frontal assault.

I had to wait.

Wait for my body to heal. Wait for the people from Las Vegas to find me.

Evan's voice called out from behind me.

"Mara..."

I didn't look back.