My heart hammered.
“Trevor…”
Then he said the words that made everything inside me collapse.
“Mother, he says the other baby was yours.”
I stared at Henry’s letter.
At the photograph.
At the life I’d spent protecting.
For forty-four years, I’d believed I had one child.
One son.
Now someone was telling me that two boys had been born that night.
One raised by me.
One taken somewhere else.
And the son who’d struck me might not have been the baby I’d delivered.
I covered my mouth.
“Where is the other boy?”
Trevor began crying.
“That’s why I’m calling.”
My blood ran cold.
“What?”
He swallowed.
“Malcolm says he knows.”
I gripped the phone.
“Where?”
A long silence followed.
Then Trevor whispered:
“Mother, the other son was raised by Daniel Pierce’s family.”
My heart stopped.
Daniel.
My attorney.
The man who had spent years advising me.
The man who had helped arrange the River Oaks sale.
