Chapter 3

The sharp crack of the branch hung in the cold air.

Candy's head snapped toward the shadows of the fountain. Her lazy posture vanished, replaced by the rigid stance of a predator protecting its territory. She shoved Poppy behind her legs.

"Who's there?" Candy demanded, her voice shrill. "If that's security slacking off again, I'm docking your pay!"

Deanna knew she was caught. The metallic taste of blood in her mouth mixed with the bitter realization of the timeline. She took a deep breath of the freezing air, placed her bleeding hand on the edge of the fountain, and dragged herself out of the darkness.

She stepped into the halo of the patio lights.

Candy squinted. As Deanna's pale, scarred face and hollowed eyes came into focus, Candy's pupils dilated in absolute horror.

The crystal wine glass slipped from Candy's fingers. It shattered against the marble steps, sending a spray of dark red wine across her silk slippers like fresh blood.

Candy stumbled back, her voice twisting into a terrified shriek. "Deanna?!"

Deanna didn't look at Candy. Her bloodshot eyes were locked onto the little girl hiding behind the silk robe.

Deanna dragged her injured leg forward, closing the distance. "How old is she?" Deanna asked. Her voice was a guttural scrape, barely human.

Candy recovered quickly. The initial shock morphed into defensive arrogance. She remembered she was standing on her own patio, in her own estate. She straightened her spine and lifted her chin.

Candy casually reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. The patio lights caught the massive pink diamond on her ring finger, making it explode with blinding sparkles.

Deanna's stomach violently contracted. She recognized the intricate setting of that ring. She had drawn the sketch for it herself, five years ago, for her own wedding.

Candy saw where Deanna was looking. A cruel, triumphant smile stretched across her lips. "Poppy just turned five last month," Candy said loudly, making sure every syllable hit its mark.

Five.

The number slammed into Deanna's skull like a sledgehammer.

Missing for five years. A ten-month pregnancy. That meant Joseph had been sleeping with Candy at least six months before Deanna ever boarded the plane for her medical mission in the Middle East.

Deanna's mind flashed to her lavish farewell dinner. Joseph kissing her forehead, whispering that she was his only love. It was all a lie. Every touch, every word.

Her lungs stopped working. Deanna clutched the fabric of her jacket over her chest, gasping for air. Her vision blurred at the edges.

Poppy started to cry, terrified by the ragged, bleeding woman gasping on the lawn. "Mommy, I'm scared! Tell Daddy to make the bad lady go away!"

Candy scooped the girl up into her arms. "You're nothing but a ghost, Deanna," Candy spat, her voice dripping with venom. "You're a psycho trying to ruin a happy family."

Candy pulled a sleek smartphone from her robe pocket. "I'm calling security. You're going to rot in a cell for trespassing."

The threat snapped the last thread of Deanna's sanity.

With a sudden burst of adrenaline, Deanna lunged up the marble steps. She grabbed Candy's wrist with her bloody hand, yanked the phone away, and smashed it onto the stone floor. The screen shattered into a spiderweb of glass.

Candy screamed, clutching her daughter and backing up against the heavy oak door. "You're insane! You spent too much time with terrorists!"

Deanna stepped into Candy's personal space. She grabbed the collar of Candy's expensive silk robe, twisting the fabric in her fists. Deanna's eyes were wild, rimmed with red.

"How did you do it?" Deanna hissed, spittle flying from her lips. "How did you and Joseph fake my death while I was rotting in a cage?"

Candy trembled, but her eyes remained vicious. "You're just a stupid doctor," Candy mocked, her breath hitting Deanna's face. "You know nothing about Wall Street. You know nothing about what men actually need."

Candy leaned in closer, dropping her voice to a lethal whisper. "Joseph never wanted to marry you. He only wanted your parents' medical trust fund."

The words sliced through Deanna's chest, severing her heart from its strings. Her hands went numb. She released Candy's robe, stumbling backward down the steps as if she had been physically shoved.

Before Deanna could hit the ground, two blinding beams of high-beam headlights swept across the courtyard, cutting through the darkness.

The screech of tires echoed off the stone walls. A sleek black Maybach slammed to a halt on the cobblestone driveway. The driver's side door was kicked open.

Joseph Cole jumped out. He was wearing a custom-tailored suit, but his tie was loose, and his chest was heaving. He had clearly rushed back after getting a panic call from the gate security.

Joseph's eyes darted from his terrified wife and child on the porch to the bleeding, ragged woman standing on the grass.

All the color drained from Joseph's face. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

Deanna slowly turned her head. She looked at the man she had loved since college. The man who had sold her out for a trust fund.

A chilling, broken laugh scraped its way out of Deanna's throat. Hot tears finally spilled over her eyelashes, cutting clean tracks through the dirt on her cheeks.