Adrian staggered backward.
“No.”
The audio continued.
Evelyn said, “You said nobody would be harmed.”
“Nobody is being harmed. Amelia leaves. Adrian thinks he destroyed everything. I make sure I’m there when he needs someone.”
Gasps spread across the ballroom.
Vanessa lunged for my phone.
Adrian caught her wrist.
“Don’t touch her.”
Vanessa froze.
The next words from the recording destroyed the room.
“What about the cameras?” Evelyn asked.
Vanessa answered:
“My father handled them.”
My father.
I stopped breathing.
Adrian looked at me.
“Your father?”
My father, Charles Hart, had died fourteen months after my disappearance.
He had been Vanessa’s father too.
At least, that was what we’d always believed.
The audio continued.
Evelyn sounded frightened.
“Charles said Amelia wasn’t supposed to disappear. Only cancel the wedding.”
Then Vanessa:
“She’ll come back eventually.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
A pause.
Then Vanessa said:
“Better for everyone.”
I stopped the recording.
Vanessa was crying now.
Not delicately.
Not convincingly.
Furiously.
“You have no idea what you’re doing.”
“I know exactly what I’m doing.”
“No, Amelia. You don’t.”
Adrian released her wrist.
“Why?”
Vanessa laughed through her tears.
“You still don’t understand?”
“Understand what?”
She looked at me.
Then at Noah and Eli.
And smiled.
That same smile.
The one from the bridal suite.
Only this time, it looked broken.
“Ask her about the DNA.”
I frowned.
“What DNA?”
Vanessa’s smile widened.
Adrian went still.
Then someone behind us said:
“I think I can answer that.”
An elderly woman stood near the ballroom doors.
I recognized her.
Margaret Blackwood.
Adrian’s mother.
She was seventy-two now.
Still elegant.
Still terrifyingly composed.
She walked toward us carrying an ivory envelope.
Adrian frowned.
“Mother?”
Margaret looked at the twins.
Then at me.
“I’m sorry, Amelia.”
Something in her voice frightened me.
“For what?”
She handed me the envelope.
Inside was a DNA report.
My name appeared at the top.
So did Adrian’s.
I scanned the page.
Then again.
“No.”
My knees weakened.
Adrian took the report.
His expression collapsed.
Probability of biological relationship consistent with half-siblings: 99.87%.
I stared at him.
Half-siblings?
“What is this?”
Margaret closed her eyes.
“Your father wasn’t your father, Amelia.”
I couldn’t breathe.
Vanessa laughed softly.
“There it is.”
Margaret continued.
“Thirty-four years ago, your mother had an affair.”
“With whom?”
Margaret looked at Adrian.
His face had gone white.
“Adrian’s father.”
The world tilted.
“No.”
Adrian stepped backward.
“No.”
Margaret nodded.
“Richard Blackwood.”
I felt physically sick.
For five years, I had believed I had hidden Adrian’s sons from him.
Now a piece of paper said Adrian and I shared a father.
Which meant—
I turned toward Noah and Eli.
I couldn’t finish the thought.
“No,” I whispered.
Vanessa looked almost triumphant.
