I looked at Elena.
She was watching me.
“Did you know Elena was pregnant?”
My mother’s silence answered first.
“Yes,” she said.
A strange pressure formed behind my eyes.
“How long?”
“Several weeks.”
“And you didn’t tell me.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because Daniel asked me not to.”
Elena closed her eyes.
I lowered my voice.
“Mother, listen carefully. Elena is in the hospital.”
Another silence.
This one was different.
“Is the baby all right?”
“Why is that your first question?”
“Luke.”
“Why is that your first question?”
My mother’s breathing became audible.
“The baby is a Mercer.”
“So is Elena.”
“No,” my mother said softly. “That is exactly the problem.”
I stopped breathing.
Across the room, Elena opened her eyes.
“What does that mean?”
“Not on the telephone.”
“I’m not interested in your rules tonight.”
“You should be.”
“Mother—”
“Did Samuel ever tell you why he chose Elena?”
I frowned.
“My father didn’t choose my wife.”
“Didn’t he?”
I looked at Elena.
She was shaking her head.
“What are you talking about?”
My mother’s voice dropped.
“Come to the apartment.”
“I’m not leaving Elena.”
“Then bring Marco to you and put him on speaker. But there is something you need to see.”
“What?”
“I found what Daniel was looking for.”
The line went quiet.
“Mother?”
“A photograph.”
I almost laughed from frustration.
“A photograph of what?”
“Not what.”
Her next words seemed to arrive from very far away.
“Who.”
Before I could answer, the hospital door opened.
Marco stepped inside.
I stared at him.
Then at the phone still pressed to my ear.
“How did you get here?”
Marco stopped.
“Luke?”
My mother’s voice remained on the phone.
“Marco is with you?”
“Yes.”
The fear in her voice was immediate.
“Then who is in Elena’s apartment with me?”
My blood turned cold.
Marco moved toward me.
“Give me the phone.”
Before I could, my mother whispered something.
I barely heard it.
“Luke… the man here said his name was Marco Reyes.”
The call disconnected.
For one second, nobody moved.
Then Marco took out his own phone and dialed.
No answer.
He tried again.
Elena pushed herself higher in the bed.
“What is it?”
I did not answer.
Marco walked toward the window.
“Caleb,” he said when someone finally picked up. “I need eyes on Ross’s apartment immediately.”
He listened.
His face changed.
“What do you mean no one is there?”
I crossed the room.
“Give me that.”
Marco raised a hand.
“Caleb, when?”
Another pause.
“You’re sure?”
The call ended.
“What?” I demanded.
Marco looked at me.
“Caleb checked the building ten minutes ago.”
“And?”
“Elena’s apartment is empty.”
I stared at my phone.
I called my mother.
Straight to voicemail.
Again.
Voicemail.
“Track her number,” I said.
Marco did not argue.
Elena’s face had gone white.
I returned to her bedside.
“It’s all right.”
She almost smiled.
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“I know.”
“Who was in my apartment?”
“I don’t know.”
“And your mother?”
“I don’t know.”
“You seem to be saying that a lot tonight.”
“I’ve noticed.”
She reached for my hand.
The movement surprised both of us.
For a moment, her fingers rested against mine.
Then she held on.
Not as a wife.
Not even as someone who trusted me.
As someone afraid of being alone.
I closed my hand around hers.
Marco’s phone vibrated.
He read the message.
“Caleb found something.”
“What?”
“A camera across the street caught the building entrance.”
He turned his screen toward us.
The video was grainy.
Black and white.
A timestamp glowed in the corner.
9:41 p.m.
My mother’s black sedan stopped beside the curb.
A woman stepped out.
Even from the distant angle, I recognized Vivienne’s posture.
She entered the building.
At 9:48, another car arrived.
A man emerged.
Dark jacket.
Broad shoulders.
He walked with a slight stiffness in his left leg.
Marco watched the screen.
I watched Marco.
The resemblance was unsettling.
But not perfect.
“That’s not you,” I said.
“No.”
The man reached the building entrance.
For half a second, he turned toward the camera.
The image blurred.
Then froze.
Marco enlarged the frame.
The man’s face became a collection of gray pixels.
Still, one detail was visible.
A thin white scar beneath the right eye.
Marco sat down.
Actually sat down.
I had never seen him react that way to anything.
“Who is he?” I asked.
Marco did not answer.
“Marco.”
He looked at me.
“My brother.”
I stared at him.
“You don’t have a brother.”
“That’s what I was told.”
Elena’s fingers tightened around mine.
Marco looked back at the frozen image.
“My mother said he died when we were children.”
I felt the night expand around us.
Every answer had become another question.
Daniel.
My father.
My mother.
A false Marco.
Elena’s letter.
The threat that destroyed my marriage.
“What was his name?” I asked.
