Chapter 1

The rain washed away the blue icing on my dead son’s birthday cake as I stood alone in the center of the freezing downpour at Oakwood Cemetery.

It had been exactly three years since I held my lifeless baby boy in my arms. Terrence promised he would be here. But I had been standing in the freezing mud for three hours, and my husband was still not here.

I pulled out my phone. My fingers were slick with rain and numb from the cold as I dialed my husband’s number.

Pick up. Please, Terrence, pick up.

On the fifth ring, the line connected.

"What is it, Shay?" Terrence answered. His tone was clipped. Annoyed. In the background, I could hear the faint sound of music and clinking glasses.

"Terrence, where are you?" I choked out, tears mixing with the freezing rain on my face. "I've been waiting for three hours. It's his anniversary. You said you were right behind me."

"I am in the middle of a critical meeting," Terrence snapped. "I told you I was busy."

"You promised," I whispered, my voice breaking. "It’s our son."

"Are you seriously doing this right now?" he scoffed coldly. "You are always dwelling on the past, Shay. It’s been three years. It is getting exhausting."

"Terrence, please. I just need you here—"

"Go home, Shay. Stop acting like a martyr."

He hung up on me.

I stood frozen among the gravestones, the rain dripping from my soaked clothes onto the muddy grass.

The man I loved, the father of my child, couldn't even spare five minutes to stand by his son's grave.

I wiped my face, my sorrow hardening into a dull, suffocating ache. I knelt in the mud, placed the ruined cake by the headstone, and walked away.

The storm only worsened as I drove blindly through the city. The windshield wipers thrashed violently, but they couldn't clear the tears blurring my vision. My chest was tight with grief. I felt entirely, utterly alone.

Then, my engine sputtered.

The car jerked violently before dying completely in the middle of an upscale, secluded neighborhood. I turned the key. The engine clicked, but nothing happened.

"No, no, no," I muttered, hitting the steering wheel.

I stepped out into the torrential rain, shivering uncontrollably. The street was pitch black, lined with towering trees and massive estates. I needed shelter. I needed to call a tow truck, but my phone screen was completely black. Dead.

I wrapped my soaked coat tighter around my body and ran toward the nearest house. It was a lavish, brightly lit villa sitting securely behind a low wrought-iron gate.

The front porch was dark, but a warm, golden light spilled onto the side patio from a massive floor-to-ceiling glass window.

I walked toward the light, ready to knock on the glass and beg for help.

I stopped dead in my tracks. The air completely vanished from my lungs.

Inside the warm, beautifully decorated living room was my husband.

Terrence wasn't in a suit. He was wearing a brightly colored paper hat that read Best Dad. Colorful balloons floated near the ceiling. A massive pile of wrapped presents sat on the expensive rug.

And he wasn't alone.

A woman was pressed against his chest. Her arms were wrapped tightly around his neck. She tilted her head back, laughing at something he said, before pulling him down into a deep, passionate kiss.

Denise.

My blood ran cold. Denise was my former nanny. I had trusted her. I had confided in her when my grief was tearing me apart.

She had held my hand while I cried over my empty womb. She had told me that time would heal my broken heart.

My hands shook violently. I crept closer. I pressed my back against the cold brick wall of the house.

The patio door was cracked open slightly, letting the warm air and their voices drift out into the freezing storm.

"He loved the cake," Denise giggled, tracing her manicured fingers down Terrence’s chest. "Jiro is growing up so fast. Can you believe he is already three?"

Jiro. That was the exact name I had picked for my son.

"He gets his energy from you," Terrence smiled, kissing her forehead.

"I still can't believe we pulled it off," Denise sighed, leaning her head against his shoulder. Her voice was light, casual, as if she were discussing the weather. "Sometimes I worry she’ll find out."

"Shay is completely clueless," Terrence scoffed.

"It was just so easy," Denise laughed. "A little bribe to the doctor, and poof. He fakes the death certificate. He swaps Shay’s baby with a stillborn from the ward, and she never asks a single question."

A wave of pure, suffocating nausea washed over me. I stumbled backward, my hand flying to my mouth to stifle a scream.

My baby wasn't dead. My healthy, beautiful boy had been stolen from me. By my own husband. By the woman I trusted.

"You gave me the perfect family, Denise," Terrence murmured, pulling her closer, his hands roaming over her waist. "Shay is too depressing to be a mother anyway. She would have ruined him."

I took a step back, my vision blurring with tears of pure fury.

Crash.

My elbow clipped a heavy ceramic potted plant sitting on the edge of the patio. It hit the stone floor, shattering loudly into a hundred jagged pieces.

The sound echoed like a gunshot over the roaring thunder.

The laughter inside instantly stopped.

Terrence’s head snapped toward the window, his eyes locking directly onto the darkness where I stood.