Chapter 1

Five years ago, Christian died in a gunfight protecting me from a rival gang.

Now I saw him in the hospital when I having survived the suicide attempt.

He had one arm around Lucia and the other holding a little girl who looked just like him.

He looked up. Our eyes met.

The smile on his face went frozen.

His mother, the woman who had called me a murderer at his funeral, was now stumbling over herself to block Lucia from my view.

"Elena, what are you doing here—"

"Christian had no choice back then, you have to understand—"

I looked down at my hospital gown. At the fresh bandages on my wrists.

"So." I said. "While you all watched me lose my mind — while I was swearing a widow's oath over his body — you thought I was the punchline. Is that it?"

Nobody answered.

Christian moved Lucia behind him. He looked at me warily.

Five years. He'd been alive for five years. And I was the only one who didn't know.

The little girl wrapped her arms tighter around his neck.

"Daddy," she said.