Chapter 2

I didn't understand the look on Julian's face. It was as if I were the one holding the smoking gun.

"You stood there and lied to my face, Nora," he said, the disappointment heavy in his tone. "And now they've found her."

A laugh started in my throat—dry, sharp, and entirely out of my control.

I shook my head, my shoulders trembling under the cheap satin of the bunny suit.

"Why don't you ask them, Julian?" I whispered, "Ask them what they found."

Julian looked past me to his soldier. The man's face had gone the color of ash. He wouldn't meet Julian's eyes.

"Bring her out," Julian ordered. His voice didn't have the same iron in it anymore. "Bring Maya out."

Time crawled.

Julian's hand was still on the gun. The hammer stayed back. He didn't move. Neither did the soldier.

"Move! Are you all deaf? Get Maya the fuck over here—now!"

The soldiers finally moved.

They didn't have a proper coffin. The soldiers brought out a rough pine box—nailed together from kitchen scraps.

They set it on the damp concrete floor between us.

Maya lay there, eyelashes dusting her pale cheeks, fingers still curled like she was waiting for morning.

The cold kept her. Seven days in the frozen dirt—she hadn't rotted.

"No... no, no... how—how is this even possible?"

Julian took a step back, his leather boots dragging against the floor. His face went white.

"Take it easy, Jules." Serena patted his arm—a wife's gesture—then turned to me, her smile thin and venomous.

"Nora, I know you hate us," she said, her voice smooth, like honey poured over glass.

"But this is too much. Staging your own daughter's death in a crate just to wound Jules? It's sick. And bad luck—even if you don't believe in that."

She turned to the box. "Maya, sweetie, get up now. The game is over."

I stared at her. Then I laughed again. A short, dry bark of a sound.

I couldn't believe she could lie so easily—so perfectly.

For a fleeting second, I wished she wasn't lying.

And Julian? He bought it.

Slap!

It came fast. My head snapped left, the crack of it bouncing off the metal walls.

Blood pooled under my tongue—metallic, immediate.

Julian stood over me, his hand still raised, his chest heaving.

"You are out of your mind, Nora!" Julian hissed. "You knew I was coming today. So you set this whole pathetic show up to punish me for three years ago?"

"Why can't you just see reason? I just did what I had to do for the Vance family!" He snarled, stepping closer, his expensive cologne mixing with the smell of the pine box.

"Serena's family was the key to securing the ports. My marriage to her was a contract on paper. And you? What were you? A liability. Worse. You're a poison."

He stopped. Looked at the pine box. Then back at me.

"You staged your daughter's death. Fine. I don't care if she's breathing or not."

He pointed a finger at the pine box.

"She's donating. Even if I have to crack every bone in her body to scrape it out—Chloe will have what she needs."

For a second, I thought my ears had betrayed me.

Did he really just say that about his own daughter?

I swallowed blood in my mouth. I looked at Julian's immaculate face.

"Julian," I said. "How are you so sure Maya is a match for Chloe?"

He didn't flinch. He didn't even blink.

"Because Chloe is my daughter, Nora," he said.

The silence in the place stretched.

I stared at him.

Chloe and Maya were the same age. Which meant—he'd been cheating on me while we were still married.

"Don't look at me like that. It wasn't what you think." he continued, his voice flat again. Business-like.

"Serena's family needed an heir. She wanted a child. So I helped her."

"I lied about Chicago so you wouldn't have to know. I just did what I had to do. I did it to protect you and Maya."

"To protect me and Maya," I repeated.

"Yes, Nora, I love you, and I love Maya, too." Julian said, his voice softening, his hand reaching toward my bruised cheek.

I flinched away. He let out a sigh. " Don't make scene again, okay?"

"If you apologize now, we can end this. We can go back to Boston. We can be a family again."

I closed my eyes. The image of the cheap pine box burned against my eyelids.

"Our daughter is dead, Julian," I said, opening my eyes to look at him one last time. "And there is no family."

"We're done."

With that, I turned and walked toward the exit, my bare shoulders cold against the draft.