At the family member she hadn't known existed until thirty seconds ago.
And that's when everything clicked completely into place for me.
All the pieces Rose had been hiding. All the secrets she'd kept. All the reasons she'd maintained two completely separate lives that never touched.
The little girl wasn't just Étienne's daughter.
She was Rose's daughter, too.
Ella's niece.
A child that no one back home—not her parents, not her husband, not anyone in her American life—knew existed.
Rose had built an entire secret family here in Paris. Had a daughter. Had a partner. Had a whole life so completely separate from her other existence that the two had never overlapped until death forced them together.
Until Ella came looking for answers and found more truth than she'd bargained for.
And what kind of fucking worms just got dumped in poor Ella's lap?
What kind of secrets was she going to have to carry now?
21
ELLA
The word echoed in my head long after the little girl said it.
Papa.
It didn’t belong in this hallway. It didn’t belong in this moment. It didn’t belong in the version of my sister I’d carried for all of my life.
And yet it landed with a strange, irreversible finality.
Papa.
My knees felt weak.
I crouched slowly, because my body needed to do something and this was the only thing that made sense—lowering myself to her level, to the small, dark-haired child peeking up at me from behind Étienne’s leg.
She had Rose’s eyes.
That was the first thing that hit me. Not the hair. Not the mouth. The eyes.
Large. Expressive. A little too aware for her age.
The world narrowed to that detail.
I forgot Kane. Forgot the hallway. Forgot how to breathe.
“Bonjour,” I managed, my voice coming out thin and strange.
The little girl studied me with open curiosity. No fear. Just assessment.
She said something in French—quick and bright—and looked up at Étienne for confirmation.
He swallowed.
“This is …” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat. “This is your tante.”
