Chapter 4

His hand froze in midair, and the smile on his face froze with it.

"What did you say?"

"I said, who are you?"

He stared at me for three seconds without a word, then gave a little smile.

"Isabel, are you dreaming? I'm your husband."

"You're not."

"How am I not?"

"I don't drink milk tea, and Will adjusts the fan speed before the temperature—you set the temperature first just now. Will has a mole in the web of his hand, and you don't."

With every word I said, his smile faded a little more.

"And another thing—you won't eat eggs? Will loves fried eggs more than anything—he can eat three at a time. When you picked the eggs out last time, I should have noticed."

His smile vanished completely.

Silence. The car was so quiet I could hear Mandy turning over in her sleep.

"Isabel Henson." He finally spoke, his voice changed.

"You've finally figured it out. I meant for you to figure it out."

"The car, the text messages—all of it!"

I looked at him and said, slow and deliberate, "Who exactly are you?"

He looked at me and slowly smiled.

That smile was nothing like Will's.

Will's smile was warm. This man's smile was cold and sinister.

"Who I am doesn't matter," he said in a low voice. "What matters is that from today on, you're coming with me."

"On what grounds?"

He glanced at my daughter in the back seat.

"On her account."

My blood ran cold all over.

"If you lay a finger on Mandy, I'll kill you."

"Don't get worked up." He raised both hands in a gesture of surrender. "Why would I ever hurt Mandy? She's my daughter too."

My mind went off with a bang.

"What did you say?"

"I said, Mandy is my daughter." He looked at me and smiled, then said slowly, "Your husband can't have children."

I was shaking all over. "You're lying!"

"Am I lying?" He took out his phone and pulled up a photo. "Take a look at this."

The photo was a medical report.

It read: William Gilbert, male, azoospermia.

The date was seven years ago.

Seven years ago, right when we first met.

"He knew all along," he said, putting the phone away. "That's why he never dared to marry you. You pressured him, and that's the only reason he finally did. Three years of marriage, and you never got pregnant—whose problem did you think it was?"

I was shaking all over.

"Then how did Mandy come to be?"

"I helped you," he said, smiling at me. "Your husband asked me to help."

"Asked you?"

"That's right. He came to me, said he couldn't do it, and asked me to stand in for him. At first I didn't want to, but then..."

"But then what?"

"But then I met you."

"You were so beautiful. The first time I saw you, I wanted to—"

"Shut up!"

"Isabel, don't get worked up," he said, smiling. "Everything I'm telling you is true. Mandy is my daughter—your husband begged me to give her to him."

"Impossible, he wouldn't—"

"He wouldn't? Then go ask him." He laughed. "Oh, that's right—you can't ask him. Because he's somewhere you'll never find him."

"What did you do to him?"

"Take a guess."