Aria considered this.

Then pressed her tiny palm against Elena’s cheek.

“Daddy cry lots.”

Dominic laughed despite himself.

Elena looked at him.

“Does he?”

Aria nodded solemnly.

“In shower.”

Dominic frowned.

“Traitor.”

For the first time in years, Elena laughed.

The sound shattered him.

Because it was exactly the same.

Exactly.

Dominic covered his face.

Elena reached for his hand.

He let her take it.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“For what?”

“I should have known.”

“You thought I was dead.”

“I should have questioned it.”

“You were grieving.”

“I brought her into our home.”

Elena squeezed his fingers.

“You also found me.”

“Aria found you.”

They both looked at their daughter.

Aria had become fascinated by the ring.

She rotated it carefully on Elena’s finger.

Then she frowned.

“Mommy.”

“What?”

Aria pointed toward the ring.

“Open.”

Elena went still.

Dominic noticed.

“What?”

Elena stared at Aria.

“Open what?”

Aria twisted the ring.

Nothing happened.

Then she pressed her thumbnail into the crescent-shaped nick.

A tiny section of platinum shifted.

Dominic leaned forward.

“Elena?”

Her face had gone pale.

“I didn’t know.”

“Know what?”

The ring opened.

Not fully.

Just enough to reveal a microscopic compartment inside the band.

Something had been hidden there.

A piece of rolled paper.

Dominic removed it with tweezers.

Elena stared.

“I swear I never put that there.”

Dominic unrolled the paper.

There were eight handwritten numbers.

And a name.

ADRIAN KELLER.

Elena inhaled sharply.

The doctor mentioned in her letter.

The man police had been unable to find.

Beneath his name was one sentence.

ASK HIM WHO ARIA’S GRANDFATHER REALLY WAS.

Dominic stared at Elena.

Elena stared back.

The room changed.

“What does that mean?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

But she did.

He saw it immediately.

“Elena.”

Her hand rose to her mouth.

“My father once told me there was something he would explain when I turned thirty.”

“What?”

“He died before he could.”

Dominic unfolded the paper completely.

On the reverse side was a date.

Three days before Alessandro Moretti’s supposed fatal heart attack.

And beside it, a bank locker number.

The investigation had not ended.

It had only moved backward.

Two weeks later, federal agents opened that locker.

Inside were photographs.

Passports.

Medical reports.

And a videotape recorded twenty years earlier.

Dominic and Elena watched it together.

Alessandro Moretti appeared on the screen.

Older than Elena remembered him.

Terrified.

“If Elena ever sees this,” he began, “then Adrian failed to keep the secret.”

Elena gripped Dominic’s hand.

Alessandro continued.

“I am not Elena’s biological father.”

Elena stopped breathing.

“The man who fathered her is Adrian Keller.”

Dominic turned toward her.

The tape continued.