Chapter 1
Years after breaking up with Kael Reed, I ran into him on the streets of Amiston.
He stared intently at my three-year-old son, Ethan.
He said in a low voice, "He looks a lot like me."
I lowered my gaze to avoid his eyes and gave a faint smile.
I replied, "Maybe a little."
He was quiet for a moment, then suddenly tightened his grip on my hand.
"Is he my son?" he asked.
I looked into his eyes, seeing the barely concealed hope there.
I softly denied it.
I explained, "No.
"His father is Edward.
"Nephews often resemble their uncles, right?"
*****
Delicate snowflakes slowly drifted down from above.
Kael, without so much as a warning, reached out and brushed his fingers over the red mole at the corner of my son's right eye.
He had a vivid, tear-shaped red mole in the exact same spot.
His dark expression cleared up in an instant.
He gave a derisive laugh.
"Lavinia,
"You're still awful at lying," Kael said.
Ethan let out a nervous whimper, uneasy from the touch of the man he didn't know.
I bit my lip, picked Ethan up, trying to soothe him, and gazed at the snowy sky, my tone distant.
"Suit yourself," I said.
Kael raised an eyebrow, gave me a slow once-over, then spoke offhandedly.
"Maybe you never really got to know him.
"My brother? He's cold, picky, and all about rules.
"Someone like you?
"He'd never even give you a second glance.
"Even if he was into you, how come your kid's already this big and he still hasn't brought you home?" Kael pressed.
I looked down at my simple clothes and just shrugged it off with a smile.
"You're you, he's him.
"Whatever's between us is none of your business," I said.
Kael's brows furrowed, and he looked ready to go off on me.
But just then, a gentle, melodious voice called out from behind us.
"Kael, why didn't you answer your phone?" she said.
I turned around.
A woman walked up to Kael, all smiles, and looped her arm through his, acting like they were as close as could be.
The diamond ring on her ring finger sparkled blindingly in the light.
She seemed to just notice me and greeted me politely.
"Hey, Lavinia?
"Long time no see," she said.
I couldn't help but notice the long dress she was wearing. It looked so much like mine.
For a moment, my chest tightened painfully, a sour ache twisting inside me.
I lifted my eyes to Kael, feeling a dull ache in my chest, my gaze bleak and heavy.
Kael's eyes darted away, and he smoothly pulled his arm free from the woman's hold, not making a fuss about it.
Back then, Kael was always criticizing me, saying I couldn't dress to save my life, that I was as boring as a dead branch, never sparked any interest in him.
Sometimes, just because of what I was wearing, his face would drop right before we left, and he'd leave me behind to go to whatever plans we had on his own.
He liked women who were bold and glamorous, but I was always the reserved and delicate type.
So four years ago, when I caught him cheating, he actually had the nerve to yell at me, as if I was the one to blame.
"Ever think maybe the problem is you?
"You're always so plain and dull, and in bed, you're just lifeless.
"No normal guy could put up with that," he snapped.
With tears streaming down my face, I stared at Kael.
I yelled, "So tell me, Kael, why did you even want to be with me in the first place?"
He froze for a moment, then started tearing into me even worse, his words stabbing into me like sharp blades.
Back then, I was cripplingly insecure.
I even started to believe that maybe it was all my fault.
In the end, Kael's heart finally softened. He climbed out of bed, held me close, and kept whispering soft apologies for ages.
Still, he acted like he hadn't done a thing wrong.
He just said he'd lost his head for a moment and promised it'd never happen again.
I couldn't bring myself to leave his arms, that smelled faintly of tobacco. So, even though it hurt, I forgave him.
But when he said "never again," he only meant there wouldn't be a next time with her.
That was a whole new story, first time, second time, and then it just kept happening.
Her name was Helen Smith.
Just like me, soft-spoken, low-key, always in plain clothes. Not the type to turn heads.