“Stay with me.”
He smiled faintly.
“You’re bossy.”
“You were shot!”
“Occupational hazard.”
“Don’t joke!”
His hand covered mine.
Then his eyes moved past me.
Toward Sophie.
And something in his expression made my stomach drop.
Not affection.
Recognition.
“Rachel.”
His voice weakened.
“You need to ask Camila what was in the letter.”
I looked at my sister.
She had gone completely pale.
“Camila?”
She shook her head.
“Not here.”
“What was in the letter?”
“Rachel.”
“What was in the letter?”
Her face crumpled.
“Sophie isn’t the first baby in our family they needed.”
Silence.
I stared at her.
Then at Ethan.
Then at my daughter.
And suddenly, terrifyingly, I remembered Ethan telling me about Lucia.
The missing baby.
Isabelle Callahan’s child.
My mouth went dry.
“No.”
Camila began crying harder.
“Rachel, Mom didn’t adopt you from Mexico.”
I stopped breathing.
“What?”
“You were told she did.”
“Camila—”
“She lied.”
My entire world tilted.
“You’re my sister.”
“Yes.”
“Then what are you saying?”
Camila looked at Ethan.
His face had lost all color.
“She found you after a car crash.”
Ethan stopped breathing.
Camila continued.
“Sixteen years ago.”
He whispered one word.
“No.”
“Mom was a pediatric nurse at St.
Vincent’s.
A man brought in a three-month-old baby after a crash.
No papers.
No parents.
He said the baby was in danger and begged Mom to take her somewhere nobody would find her.”
I stared at her.
I couldn’t understand the words.
Because they couldn’t possibly mean what they sounded like.
Camila looked at me.
“Mom and Dad hid you.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“Rachel—”
“My birth certificate—”
“Created later.”
“No.”
“Your birthday—”
“No!”
Ethan tried to stand.
His men held him down.
“Camila.”
His voice trembled.
