Five minutes after our divorce, my ex told me, “Take the girls—I have a son on the way now.” So I quietly took our daughters and left the country.

“So your family was owed money too.”

“Yes.”

“How much?”

“I didn’t know until last year.”

“And you approached Daniel.”

“I approached the Whitmores.”

“That isn’t what I asked.”

“I got close to Daniel because I thought he could help me access company records.”

I shut my eyes.

“And then?”

“Then he fell in love with me.”

“And you?”

Another pause.

“I cared about him.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

“No,” she whispered. “I never loved him the way he thought I did.”

The cruelty of it was almost elegant.

Daniel had thrown away his marriage for a woman who had approached him because of a decades-old financial secret.

“What about the baby?”

“I truly believed Daniel was the father.”

“And now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is Charles a possibility?”

“No.”

Relief surprised me.

“Then who?”

“Not Nathan either.”

“Vanessa.”

She inhaled.

“The other possibility is Evan Hale.”

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