Chapter 187
He drew a long, unsteady breath. He was a Collins. He was a Senator. He had to hold himself together. If he pushed too hard, she would run.
“Yes,” he said, his voice rough with the effort of lying. He pressed a hand briefly over his face. “You look exactly like an old friend. Someone I lost.”
“Oh,” Carmen said, her posture easing slightly. “I get that a lot.”
“Thank you for looking after my son,” Justin said. He looked at her with a hunger that made her knees feel uncertain. “I owe you.”
с𝘩𝗂n𝖾sе ո𝗼𝗏𝖾l𝘴 𝗍𝗋а𝗻𝗌𝘭𝗮𝘵𝘦d 𝗈𝘯 𝘨а𝘭ո𝗼𝗏𝗲𝘭ѕ.𝗰om
“He found me,” Carmen said. “He’s a smart kid.”
Justin looked down at Aaden. “We have to go.”
He needed to leave. He needed to get into the car and fall apart where no one could see him.
“Bye, Mommy!” Aaden waved cheerfully.
Carmen waved back, bewildered. “Bye, Aaden.”
Justin flinched at the word. He took Aaden’s hand — too tightly — and turned toward the door.
At the threshold, he looked back one last time. His eyes found Carmen’s across the crowded lobby.
There was a vow in that look. A promise of war.
I will find out what happened to you. And I will make you remember.
Carmen’s apartment in the West Village was cozy — filled with books and soft light, a stark contrast to the sterile luxury of the Collins world.
It was evening. Carmen stood at the kitchen counter, chopping vegetables for dinner. The rhythmic thud of the knife against the board was soothing, but her mind refused to settle.
She could not stop thinking about Justin Collins’s eyes. The way he had looked at her — like she was a ghost. Like she was his entire world.
A pair of arms wrapped around her waist from behind.
“You seem distracted,” a male voice murmured near her ear.
It was Quentin, her fiancé — tall, blonde, and steady. Everything her chaotic past was not.
Carmen leaned back into him, looking for something solid. “Just a strange day at work. The Senator — Justin Collins — came to pick up his son.”
Quentin stiffened. It was barely perceptible, but she felt it against her back.
“He acted like he knew me,” she continued, setting down the knife. “He said my name before I’d introduced myself. He looked devastated.”
Quentin turned her around. His face was calm, but his eyes were flat and cold. “Politicians are strange, babe. They thrive on drama. He probably mistook you for some donor or ex-staffer. Forget him.”
Carmen nodded. “You’re right. Just a coincidence.”
But I can’t forget him, she thought. Why does my heart hurt when I think of him?
Miles away, the air at the Golden Horizon Care Facility smelled of antiseptic and lilies.
Elouise Stein moved down the hallway, heels clicking sharply. Beside her walked Aspen Schneider, dressed modestly in a high-necked cream sweater, carrying a bouquet of white roses, looking for all the world like a repentant, soft-spoken granddaughter.
.