Chapter 2

The valet pulled up Julian's silver Audi A8. Julian slid into the backseat, and I walked around to the driver's side. He'd had three glasses of whiskey—I'd counted—which meant I was driving him home tonight.

I adjusted the rearview mirror and pulled into Boston's late-night traffic. The city lights blurred past the tinted windows.

Julian was quiet for maybe thirty seconds. Then: "You and Sterling. You know each other."

It wasn't a question.

"Not really." I kept my voice level, reaching for the excuse I'd rehearsed in my head all night. "We crossed paths in Cleveland. I was working at a local firm when he was at Sterling's Midwest operations center. I had no idea who he actually was back then."

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

Julian studied me in the dim light of the car, his blue eyes sharper than they should be after three whiskeys. A smile played at his lips. "What about your daughter? Who's watching her tonight?"

"My friend Chloe. I'm staying with her temporarily. She's helping out."

He nodded slowly. Then: "Funny thing. Your daughter looks an awful lot like him."

My stomach dropped. "Julian, that's—you can't just say things like that. If Mr. Sterling heard you making that kind of accusation, he could sue me for slander. I can't afford to piss off people like him."

The airport. Eight days ago.

Julian had spotted me at baggage claim with Amy on my hip, her blonde curls catching the fluorescent light. He'd walked over, all charm, and asked to hold her. Amy had giggled as he made faces, pulling at his tie.

"Yours?" he'd asked.

"Yes."

"Husband?"

"No husband."

His expression hadn't changed. "Well. She's beautiful."

Now, in the backseat of his Audi, Julian leaned forward slightly. His voice dropped, almost playful. "So who's the father?"

"That's private, Julian."

"Private." He raised an eyebrow. "All right. Then tell me this—where is he?"

I was silent for a long moment, watching the Charles River glide past outside the window.

"Dead," I finally said.

Which might as well be true. Adam Sterling had died the moment he vanished from Cleveland. The man at tonight's reception was someone else entirely—a billionaire in a Tom Ford suit who looked at me like I was dirt on his Ferragamo loafer.

And Amy? Amy was mine. Adam would marry someday. Have legitimate children with some trust-fund princess who summered in the Hamptons. He didn't need to know about the little girl who'd inherited his grey-green eyes.

Julian didn't press further. He just nodded once and turned to look out his own window.

---

By the time the Uber dropped me at Chloe's brownstone on Commonwealth Avenue, it was past ten.

I unlocked the door as quietly as I could, but Chloe was already there, barefoot in yoga pants and an oversized Red Sox t-shirt. She pulled me into a hug the second I stepped inside.

"Amy's asleep," she said into my hair. "Put herself to bed at nine. Got her own pajamas, told me she needed a bath. I ran the water and she handled the rest. Four years old and she's more responsible than half the guys I've dated."

I hugged her back, turning my head to kiss her cheek. "Thank you."

"Stop." Chloe cupped my face in her hands. "You've been running yourself ragged since you got here. I just quit my job, so I've got time to kill anyway. Besides, Amy's my goddaughter. If I don't put in the hours now, she's gonna grow up thinking you're the only person who matters. Can't have that."

I laughed, but it came out shaky. My eyes stung.

Chloe immediately dragged me into the kitchen, pushing a plate of leftover Boston cream pie toward me. "Okay. Spill. What happened? Who do I need to murder?"

I picked up a fork, staring at the dessert. "I saw Adam."

Chloe's eyes went wide. "You found him? Maya, that's—wait. Why do you look like someone died?"

"He's not dead."

"Then why—" She frowned. "Did you tell him about Amy?"

I shook my head.

"Shit. Is he married?"

"No."

"Girlfriend?"

"I don't know." I set down the fork. "I didn't exactly have the chance to ask."

"Then what's the problem?"

I looked up at her. "Adam lied to me."

"What the fuck did he lie about?"

"Everything." The word tasted bitter. "When we were together in Cleveland, he told me he was just some regular guy from a middle-class family. Turns out he's a goddamn billionaire. The company he was 'working for'? His family owns it. All of it. He was slumming it in Cleveland to, I don't know, prove himself or some shit."

"Wait." Chloe leaned against the counter, processing. "You were his girlfriend. You were together for how long?"

"Six months."

"And he didn't tell you? Not once?"

I gave her a sad smile. "I guess he wanted to test me. See if I was a gold digger."

"Fuck that." Chloe's voice went sharp. "You don't 'test' someone you love. And if he'd just been honest from the start, maybe you two wouldn't have—" She stopped herself, shaking her head. "I'm sorry. I just—that's such bullshit."

I stared at the pie, not really seeing it. "I had it all planned out, you know? All the different ways it could go when I found him."

"And?"

"And none of them looked like this."

Five years ago, I was seven months pregnant and desperate.

I'd shown up at Chloe's door with a duffel bag and a belly that announced itself before I did.

"Help me find him," I'd begged. "Please. He said he was from Boston. He has to be here somewhere."

Chloe had tried to talk me out of it. But when I wouldn't budge, she'd asked around—friends, coworkers, anyone who might know an "Adam" from Boston who'd worked in Cleveland.

Nothing. Because the people in Chloe's orbit didn't exactly run in Sterling family circles.

So I'd walked. Every day for three weeks, I wandered the streets of Back Bay, Beacon Hill, the Seaport. Convinced that fate would just... put him in front of me.

It didn't.

What it did give me was spotting and a scare that landed me in the hospital for a week.

"Maya." Chloe had sat by my bed, holding my hand. "If Adam wanted to be found, he would be. You're pregnant. You have to take care of yourself now."

"But—"

"If you two are meant to find each other again, you will. But right now, you need to stop looking and start surviving."

So I'd gone back to Cleveland. Had Amy. Built a life.

Chloe nudged me gently. "So what now? What are you going to do?"

I stood, brushing crumbs off my dress. "Right now? I really need to pee."