Darrenholt’s smile faded.

Lila looked at him.

“You have dark eyes.”

“Portrait painters make mistakes.”

“Perhaps.”

She turned toward Cole.

“But there’s something else.”

Her fingers trembled as she unfolded the trust paper.

“The beneficiary was born on October twelfth, 1860.”

Cole nodded.

Lila looked at Darrenholt.

“Margaret Vale died that same year.”

“Yes.”

“Then how could she have signed a letter dated November 1862?”

Darrenholt went completely still.

Cole stared.

“What letter?”

Lila withdrew a folded page from the packet.

She had overlooked it because it was tucked inside the back cover.

The handwriting was delicate.

Feminine.

And the letter began:

To the child they took from me…

Cole felt the room spin.

Darrenholt lunged toward the desk.

“Give me that!”

Cole struck him across the face with the barrel of his revolver.

Darrenholt staggered backward.

The deputies reached for their weapons.

Wade aimed at them.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Lila unfolded the letter.

And began to read.

Chapter Fifteen: The Woman Who Never Died

My beloved child,

If these words reach you, then the men who stole you have failed to erase you.

They will tell you your mother died.

They will tell you your father died.

They will tell you that your name belongs to another family.

But they cannot change the truth.

I am alive.

Cole sank slowly into the chair.

His hands went numb.

Lila continued.

My husband, Julian Vale, was murdered before you were born. His brother Silas took his identity to gain control of our property.

When I discovered the deception, Silas confined me and told the world I had died.

He intended to raise my son as his own and claim the estate.

But Thomas Bennett saved you.

Darrenholt suddenly looked twenty years older.

Cole stared at him.

“You’re not Julian.”

The man said nothing.

Lila read the next lines.

Thomas promised to protect you until I could return.

But Silas arranged for me to be taken far away.

If God grants me another day, I will spend it trying to find you.

Never believe that I abandoned you.

Your mother, Margaret Vale.

The silence afterward was unbearable.

Cole slowly lifted his eyes toward Darrenholt.

“You’re my uncle.”

Darrenholt’s face twisted.

“Your father was weak.”

Cole stood.

“You murdered him.”

“He was going to ruin everything!”

There it was.

The confession.

Not whispered.

Not ambiguous.

Spoken in front of the sheriff, deputies, Wade, Cole, and Lila.

Darrenholt seemed to realize what he had done.

He stepped backward.

Then he grabbed for the pistol hidden beneath his coat.

Cole fired.

The bullet struck Darrenholt’s shoulder.

He crashed into the desk.

The gun fell from his hand.

Wade kicked it away.

Sheriff Holloway stood frozen.

Cole approached the wounded man.

For one moment, vengeance burned in his eyes.

Then Lila spoke.

“Cole.”

He looked at her.

“Your mother may still be alive.”

The words struck him harder than any bullet.

Cole lowered his revolver.

Darrenholt laughed weakly.

“She’s dead.”

Lila knelt beside him.

“Where is she?”

He smiled through bloody teeth.

“Gone.”

“Where?”

“Far beyond your reach.”

Cole seized his coat.

“Tell me!”

Darrenholt looked into his eyes.

And whispered:

“Ask the woman you’ve been kissing.”

Chapter Sixteen: The Last Deception

Cole turned toward Lila.

She stood motionless.

Her face had drained of color.

Darrenholt began laughing again.

A terrible, broken laugh.

Cole stared at her.

“What does he mean?”

Lila looked down.

“Cole.”

Something in her voice frightened him more than anything that had happened that morning.

“Tell me.”

She closed her eyes.

Then she reached beneath the collar of her dress.

From a chain around her neck, she drew a second medallion.

Identical to the first.

Cole stared.

“Where did you get that?”

“My mother.”

He frowned.

“Your mother?”

Lila opened it.

Inside was a portrait of Margaret Vale.

And beside it, the pale-eyed man Cole now knew was the real Julian.

Cole felt a terrible certainty begin to form.

“Lila.”

She began crying.

“My father wasn’t Elias Whitcomb.”

Cole staggered.

“What?”

“He raised me. Protected me. Gave me his name through the woman who cared for me.”

She swallowed.

“My mother was Margaret Vale.”

Cole froze.

The world seemed to disappear.

Lila stepped forward.

“No, listen to me.”

But Cole had already understood the horror that Darrenholt wanted him to see.

“Are you saying—”

“No!”

Her voice rang through the room.

“No, Cole. We aren’t brother and sister.”

Darrenholt’s laughter faltered.

Lila turned on him.

“That’s what you wanted us to believe, isn’t it?”

The wounded man stared.

She wiped her tears away.

“My mother told me everything before she died.”

Cole could barely speak.

“Then explain.”

Lila nodded.

“Margaret Vale was not my birth mother. She adopted me after Elias Whitcomb rescued me from a wagon accident when I was an infant.”

Cole stared.

Lila continued.

“Elias Whitcomb was the man who raised me. Margaret was the woman who protected us after my adopted mother died.”

She looked at Darrenholt.

“And Margaret Vale never died.”

The room went silent.

Lila turned toward Cole.

“She raised me in secret for six years. When she believed Darrenholt had discovered us, she sent me away with Elias. She gave me the medallion and promised that someday I would find her son.”

Cole stared.

“So you knew?”

“I knew there was a lost child. I never knew you were that child until I saw the star carved into your mantel.”

“Why didn’t you tell me then?”

“Because Margaret had warned me that Silas would kill anyone who discovered the truth. I had to be certain.”

Cole struggled to absorb it.

“And where is Margaret now?”

Lila looked at him.

Her expression changed.

Not fear anymore.

Something deeper.

Grief.

Hope.

“I don’t know.”

Darrenholt gave a faint smile.

“Then you’ll never find her.”