I park my car in the corner of a huge lot at a massive strip mall. It has a supermarket, a pharmacy and a few other stores, including a McDonald’s. I flex my hands around the steering wheel and drop my forehead on the car horn, lightly enough that the Maybach stays silent. So many questions swirl, all of them unanswerable. But the first step is definitely seeing if I’m really pregnant or if there was a mistake with the previous test. It’s possible it isn’t even the fault of the manufacturer, but me. I might’ve peed wrong—I did it without reading the entire instruction sheet first. There might’ve been a warning that says if you pee for more than two seconds, the test gives a false positive.
I climb out of the car and start toward the pharmacy.
“Finn.”
Aaron. I turn and blink at my adoptive brother. Gone is the flamboyant, confident heir. He looks even worse than he did at the hotel. He’s unshaven, his eyes bloodshot and cheeks sunken. His skin is dull, his hair messy like it broke up with a comb a while ago. He’s in a button-down shirt that’s at least a size too big, slacks cinched at the waist with a worn belt. At least he doesn’t smell, but he looks like he could use a shower.
“Finally.” He smiles. The expression doesn’t hold the cockiness it used to. An unholy anticipation glows in his eyes. Did Zoe abuse him more than I realized? Does he blame me for what happened?
“Aaron,” I whisper. My throat is too tight to speak louder.
“I’m so glad I ran into you. Aren’t you?”
“Were you following me?”
“What if I was? You don’t keep regular schedules, and you’re around too many people.” He sounds baleful.
I shake my head, snapping myself out of the shocked daze. “I don’t have time for this.”
His hand snakes out, gripping my wrist. “You’llmaketime,” he spits out between clenched teeth. “You owe me.”
“No. I already took care of your ridiculous debt.” I look around, but there isn’t anybody in the lot. “Let me go—”
His face contorts with rage. “Shut up, you stupid bitch. It’s all your fault. You deserve this.”
“No—” My vision goes black.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Bryce
For once, the deposition ends early. I stretch and grab my things. Although I’m not completely done for the day, everything else can be done at home. I want to check on Fiona. Although she was smiling, she looked a little pale and uncomfortable in my office.
Did she sense Josh’s dislike? But she didn’t react like this at the family dinner, when it was more overt.
I check my phone. She hasn’t looked at the photo of the cupcakes or the haiku I wrote to thank her. Maybe she’s still napping.
I head out of the office, then stop at the sight of Amélie arguing with a woman. My assistant is on her feet, which means she’s less than happy about the situation and feels the need to assert herself.
“What’s the problem?” I say, ready to back Amélie up.
“She’s insisting on seeing you even though I told her repeatedly there’s no appointment.”
“I’ve calledrepeatedlyover the last two weeks, and he’s always unavailable. I don’t believe that for a second.” The woman turns to me. She’s familiar—from the auburn hair knotted into a loose chignon to the green-gold eyes. Blue japamala loops around her thin wrist, and a forest-green Dior fits her like a secondskin.
Sherry Oberman, in the flesh. How interesting.
If I didn’t know Fiona was adopted, I might think Sherry was her biological mother. Except for the eyes—often unfocused and sometimes too soulless. The woman supposedly grieves for losing her real daughter, but underneath it is a little too much calculation. It’s as though she tallies everything as a plus or minus, with her being the only arbiter of assigned value.
“Mrs. Oberman,” I say coldly. “My assistant doesn’t lie. I am extremely busy.”
She tilts her chin stubbornly. “You’re free now, aren’t you?”
“No. I’m about to head out.”
“I only need a little bit of your time.”
I open my mouth to decline—
