Chương 1
Celeste Rowe seized Willa by both arms and shoved her backward before either woman noticed how close they were to the glass stairs.
Willa’s right heel found nothing.
For one suspended second, she remained upright, her pink wrap sliding from her shoulders, her hands open in front of her as though Celeste might change her mind and catch her. Then the edge of the first step struck behind her knee.
Her body folded.
The next step caught her hip. Another struck her shoulder. The glass beneath her flashed white and blue beneath the atrium roof, too bright, too hard, every impact producing a sound smaller than the pain it caused.
Someone screamed.
Willa did not know whether it was her.
She reached for the railing and caught air. Her wedding ring struck the metal support with a sharp click. She saw faces above her—shoppers, donors, reporters, employees gathered for the opening of Calder Rowe’s newest luxury development—and then she was sliding toward the marble floor with one arm across her stomach.
Nathan reached her before she stopped moving.
He came down the center of the staircase, knocking into a waiter and sending a silver tray spinning against the steps. His black jacket opened as he ran. He dropped beside Willa, one knee hitting the marble hard enough that she heard it.
“Willa.”
She could not draw a full breath.
His hand slid behind her neck. “Don’t move. Look at me.”
“My baby.”
“I know. I know.”
Pain tightened through her lower abdomen, deep and immediate. Willa pressed her palm against the cream fabric stretched over the curve of her pregnancy.
“Nathan.”
“I’m here.”
Her pink wrap lay beside her, twisted on the floor. Near its edge, against the white marble, a drop of blood appeared.
Nathan saw it.
The tendons in his neck went rigid.
Willa gripped his sleeve. She had meant to tell him about the cramping. Instead, the words that came out were the ones she had been holding since Celeste approached her at the top of the stairs.
“She knows about the key.”
Nathan’s face changed.
He turned slowly.
Celeste stood above them in a burgundy pantsuit, one hand hanging stiffly beside her thigh. Adrian Moss, her husband, stood half a step behind her in a black suit and open white shirt. He had not moved since the shove.
Nathan looked at his sister.
Celeste’s anger vanished so completely that Willa almost failed to recognize her. Her eyes widened. Her mouth opened. She looked not at the blood but at Nathan.
That was the last thing Willa saw before the atrium roof dissolved into white light.
She woke inside an ambulance with scissors cutting through the side of her dress.
A paramedic leaned over her, asking the same questions in different forms. Her name. The date. How many weeks pregnant. Whether she had lost consciousness. Whether the pain was constant or coming in waves.
“Thirty-two weeks,” Willa said.
Her voice sounded far away.
“Any previous complications?”
“No.”
“Bleeding before today?”
“No.”
“Can you tell me what happened?”
“My sister-in-law pushed me.”
The paramedic glanced toward his partner but did not comment.
Willa lifted her head.
“Where is my husband?”
“He’s following us.”
“No. He was there.”
“He couldn’t ride in the back while we’re working.”
The ambulance swayed through a turn. Willa closed her eyes, then opened them again because darkness made her feel as though she were falling.
“My coat.”
“Your coat?”
“The pink wrap. There was a key in the pocket.”
“We only received your purse and shoes.”
“I didn’t have a purse.”
“All right. Try not to move.”
The key was small, brass, and old enough that its teeth had worn smooth at the edges. It belonged to a private document box rented under Miriam Rowe’s name at a vault company downtown.
Three weeks earlier, Willa had found it taped beneath the false bottom of a walnut stationery case.
Nathan had told her to forget it existed.
Now it was gone.
At the hospital, they took Willa through a set of doors Nathan could not cross. Nurses moved around her in pale blue scrubs, attaching monitors, checking blood pressure, asking about allergies.
The baby’s heartbeat filled the room in quick electronic beats.
Willa began crying at the sound.
A nurse with purple glasses placed a hand over hers.
“That’s a good sound,” she said. “Let’s stay with what we know.”
What they knew changed every few minutes. There was bleeding. There were contractions. The baby’s heart rate remained reassuring. An ultrasound showed an area of concern near the placenta, but the physician would not use words like safe or fine.
“We’re admitting you,” the doctor said. “Our goal is to monitor both of you closely and keep the pregnancy going if we can.”
“Will she be all right?”
“We don’t know yet.”
Nathan entered when they permitted him.
He had removed his jacket. There was blood on one cuff of his white shirt, though Willa could not tell whether it was hers. He kissed her forehead and placed both hands around hers.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
She searched his face.
“For what?”
“For leaving you alone with her.”
“You were downstairs.”
“I should have known.”
“Known what?”
He looked toward the monitor. “That Celeste would make a scene.”
Willa’s abdomen tightened again. The nurse checked the tracing.
Nathan waited until she left.
“What did you tell her?” he asked.
Willa stared at him.
“On the stairs,” he said. “What did you say before she pushed you?”
“She came to me.”
“Why?”
“You know why.”
His grip loosened.
“Willa.”
“She knew I found the key.”
“How?”
“I thought you told her.”
“I told you I wouldn’t.”
“You also told me the box was probably empty.”
“It may be.”
“She said it wasn’t.”
Nathan turned toward the door and lowered his voice.
“Did you show her anything?”
“No.”
“The photographs?”
“No.”
“Did you mention the trust amendment?”
May you like
Willa’s mouth went dry.
“You said there was no amendment.”
