Chapter 1

I signed the last stroke of the divorce agreement. My husband, Derek Garrett, called the three children down from upstairs, lined them up, and pushed them into the middle of the living room.

"Pick one to take with you," Derek said.

He lit a cigarette and leaned back on the sofa, as if he were handling nothing more than an ordinary business deal.

The three children stood there. The eldest, Shane Garrett, was seven years old. The second, Leila Garrett, was five.

The youngest, Sidney Garrett, was three, still too young to understand the situation, and tugged at the leg of my pants to climb up.

I bent down and picked Sidney up.

I said, "Why should they come with me if I didn't give birth to them?"

I glanced at Shane and Leila.

"You know exactly who their real mother is, Derek," I added.

Derek's hand froze mid-motion, just as he was about to put out his cigarette.

Derek's mother, Juliet Garrett, stormed out of the private chapel, her cane thudding loudly against the floor with every step.

She said, "Elena, you've raised them for seven years. How can you cast them aside? Have you got no conscience at all?"

I laughed. "Where was the Garrett family's conscience when you foisted someone else's kids on me?"

All the color drained from Juliet's face.

I held Sidney tighter and turned to leave, my high heels clicking against the marble floor, every step steady and unhesitating.

Derek's voice came from behind me.

He said, "Elena, you walk out that door and don't ever think about coming back."

I didn't turn around.

"Derek, that's the only thing you've ever said that actually made sense," I replied.

The minivan was parked out front.

As the driver held the door open for me, I saw Gloria Ramirez's white Porsche turn into the driveway of the Garrett mansion.

She rolled down her window and gave me a perfectly composed smile.

"Leaving so soon, Elena? You're not even going to pack your bags?" she asked.

I put Sidney in the car seat and buckled him in.

"You can keep all that stuff," I said.

I shut the car door.

"You've been waiting seven years for this day, after all," I added.

Gloria's smile faltered for a moment.

As the car pulled away from the Garrett mansion, Sidney leaned against my shoulder and whispered, "Mom, where are we going?"

"Home," I replied.

"Isn't this place our home?" he asked.

I stroked his hair.

"No. It never was," I said.

My phone buzzed.

It was a transfer notification.

Derek had sent me 2.5 million dollars, with a note: [For Sidney.]

I stared at the number for three seconds.

2.5 million dollars.

The Garrett family pulled in over three billion dollars a year, and Derek thought he could fob his own son off with a lousy 2.5 million.

I flipped my phone over and set it face down on my lap.

"To the airport," I said.

The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror.

"Ms. Andrews, Mr. Andrews has a private jet waiting for you at the airstrip," the driver said.

I closed my eyes.

Three years ago, after that car accident, I lost my memory, and the Garrett family took me in. They told me I was Derek's wife, mother to three kids, and an orphan with no family to speak of.

I believed them for three years.

Until a month prior, when my memories started to piece themselves back together.

I wasn't some helpless orphan.

My last name was Andrews.

I was the sole heiress to the Andrews Group, a company valued at seventy billion dollars.