Chapter 3

I walked aimlessly through the dark streets. I shivered violently in my thin blue cleaning uniform.

I had absolutely no money. I had no phone. I did not even have a pair of warm shoes.

I only had one desperate, burning goal. I needed to figure out how to reach the Smith estate. I needed to take back my baby.

I stopped at a quiet intersection to catch my breath.

Across the dimly lit street, a man walked out of a small corner shop.

He opened a large black umbrella. My heart completely stopped beating.

The air vanished from my lungs. He tilted the umbrella slightly to the right. It was a very specific, familiar habit. I stared at his legs. He walked with a slight, arrogant swagger.

It was the exact same confident gait I had watched walk away from me a thousand times.

I stepped closer to the edge of the wet sidewalk. The streetlamp illuminated his face for a brief, terrifying second.

His jaw was covered in fresh, jagged red scars. They looked angry and painful. But the sharp cheekbones and the dark, cold eyes were unmistakable.

It was Troy.

My breath caught sharply in my throat. I pressed my shaking hand against my chest.

Was the hospital right? Was I truly losing my mind? Was I hallucinating my dead husband in the middle of the street?

I did not care. I had to know the truth.

I pulled the blue collar up over my freezing neck. I followed him. I stayed far back in the thick, dark shadows.

I followed the ghost of my husband through the winding, narrow alleys of the city. He did not look back.

After twenty agonizing minutes, he stopped in front of an upscale, secluded townhouse.

He unlocked the heavy front door and walked inside.

I crept quietly up the stone driveway. I slipped through the side gate and entered the private back garden.

I hid behind a large stone statue. I peered through the large glass French windows.

The living room was brightly lit. The man stood in the center of the room. He closed his black umbrella. He took off his heavy winter coat. The bright light hit his face perfectly. The jagged scars were completely real.

Troy was alive.

A woman walked into the room. She wrapped her arms tightly around Troy’s neck. She pulled his face down and kissed him completely, passionately.

My stomach violently dropped. The world spun around me.

It was Paula Kensington. She was my absolute best friend. She was the maid of honor at my wedding. She was the woman who held my hand when I gave birth to Arthur. She was Arthur's godmother.

I pressed my shaking hands against the cold brick wall. A small gap in the French windows let the warm air and their voices drift out into the dark garden. I held my breath. I listened to the monsters who ruined my life.

"You look tired, my love," Paula purred. She traced the jagged scars on his cheek with her perfectly manicured fingernail.

"The river was colder than I expected," Troy laughed softly. "And the rocks at the bottom were sharp. But it was entirely worth it."

Paula smiled a wicked, beautiful smile. "It worked perfectly. Everyone thinks you are dead. Everyone thinks she is a cheating whore who drove you to suicide."

"The fake businessman was a brilliant touch," Troy agreed. He poured two glasses of expensive red wine. He handed one to Paula. "She looked completely insane at the funeral. My mother played her part perfectly. The judge handed Arthur over without a single question."

"Arthur is our child now," Paula said happily. She took a sip of her wine. "We have the perfect family. And we have the Croft fortune."

Troy smiled a dark, greedy smile. "Her parents left her a massive mountain of money. As her grieving widower, I control every single penny of it now. We never have to work another day in our lives."

I stood frozen in the dark garden.

"When do we leave for Paris?" Paula asked. She leaned her head against his chest.

"Soon," Troy promised. He kissed the top of her head. "We just have to wait for tomorrow night."

"What happens tomorrow night?" Paula asked.

Troy took a slow sip of his wine. His dark eyes were completely cold.

"I paid an orderly at the psychiatric hospital a lot of cash," Troy said smoothly. "Tomorrow night, he is going to slip into Helena's room. He is going to give her a massive overdose of sedatives. They will find her dead in the morning. Everyone will think the crazy, grieving widow finally killed herself. The loose end will be permanently tied."

I backed away from the glass window. My hands were shaking violently.

My blood ran completely cold.

They were going to murder me in my sleep. If I had not escaped the hospital tonight, I would be dead tomorrow.

I would never see my son again.

No, I won’t let that happen!