Chapter 3

Micah came out of the treatment room after sunrise.

He was still asleep, but the doctor said his breathing had stabilized.

"The medicine bought us time," she told me. "It didn't solve the problem. He still needs the transplant."

"How long can we wait?"

"Not long. The longer we delay, the greater the risk."

I looked through the glass at my son.

"The foundation rejected our application."

"Then you need to appeal or find another source of funding. We can't begin without financial approval."

I already knew who controlled the appeal.

Conrad.

I left Micah with the nurse and drove to the house that was still legally mine.

My key no longer worked.

The housekeeper opened the door after I knocked. Surprise crossed her face when she saw me.

"Mrs. Vale."

"Is Conrad home?"

Before she could answer, a woman's laugh came from the dining room.

I knew that voice.

Sabine Mercer sat at the table wearing one of Conrad's white shirts. Her dark hair fell over one shoulder. Conrad stood behind her, pouring coffee into her cup.

He used to do that for me.

Sabine looked up and smiled.

"Lenora. What a surprise."

She didn't look surprised at all.

Conrad set down the coffee pot. "How did you get in?"

"This is still my house."

"You gave up the right to call it that when you left."

I looked at Sabine. She had been a junior accountant at the foundation when the money disappeared. She had access to my office, my passwords, and every record that later carried my name.

She was also the last person I saw before my life fell apart.

"You rejected Micah's application," I said.

Sabine lifted her cup. "It didn't meet the requirements."

"You removed a medical report."

"That's a serious accusation."

"Not as serious as changing financial records."

Her smile disappeared.

Conrad stepped between us.

"Enough."

"She did it," I said. "She changed the transfers and used my account."

"Sabine was the person who stayed and helped repair the damage you caused."

"Because she caused it."

His eyes turned cold. "Get out."

I wanted to leave. Micah's face stopped me.

"His treatment last night wasn't enough. He needs a transplant."

Conrad glanced at Sabine.

She shook her head once.

It was a small movement, but I saw it.

So did he.

He chose her answer before he asked me another question.

"The foundation made its decision."

"Then lend me the money yourself. I'll repay you."

"With what? Your music career?"

The words cut because he knew there was almost nothing left of it.

Sabine stood and walked to his side.

"There may be another way," she said. "The board might reconsider if Lenora finally accepted responsibility for the missing money."

I stared at her. "You want me to confess to something you did."

"I want you to stop blaming everyone else."

"And if I sign a confession, you'll approve Micah's treatment?"

Sabine's eyes moved to Conrad.

"I could bring it before the board."

It wasn't a promise. She wanted my name destroyed again, and she still planned to let my son wait.

"No."

Conrad gave a bitter laugh. "Your pride matters more than your child?"

"My child is the reason I won't put his future in her hands."

"Her hands are cleaner than yours."

Sabine rested her head against his shoulder.

"Don't let her ruin our morning."

Our morning.

Two simple words, and suddenly I understood how completely she had taken my place.

Conrad put an arm around her.

He did it while looking directly at me.

"You should leave."

Sabine touched his face. "You promised we'd spend today together."

Then she kissed him.

He didn't turn away.

I looked at his mouth and remembered another morning in this house.

I had just returned from my first major concert. Conrad had led me into the living room, where a cello waited beneath the window.

"It's yours," he had said.

I was afraid to touch it. The instrument was finer than anything I had ever owned.

"I can't accept this."

He placed my hand over the polished wood.

"Then keep it for me. As long as you have this cello, you'll always have a reason to come home."

That night, we lay awake planning a future neither of us could see clearly yet.

Weeks later, I learned I was pregnant with Micah.

Conrad had been the first and only man I had ever loved.

He was also Micah's father.

After Micah was born, Conrad received a paternity report naming Dorian as the father. I begged him to test again. He refused, convinced I was trying to use another man's child to return to his life.

Sabine stepped away from his kiss and looked at me.

"If you're desperate for money, sell something. Everyone owns something they can live without."

Conrad said nothing.

I turned and walked out before either of them saw me cry.

My cello was still in the back seat of my car.

I opened the case and touched the place where Conrad had once carved my initials beside his.

For years, I had kept it because it proved that he had loved me once.

That proof couldn't save Micah.

But the money from selling it might.

I closed the case and called the best instrument dealer I knew.

"I have a cello to sell," I said.