“You look fertile,” I answered.
His smile twitched slightly.
Camille laughed too loudly. “Still bitter? Oh, sweetheart, don’t be. Life gives different women different blessings.”
Around us, guests pretended not to listen. Daniel’s parents sat beside the fireplace, his mother glittering in diamonds while his father watched me carefully like a man who remembered exactly how much I knew about his business dealings.
Camille leaned closer toward me. “I hope this isn’t too painful for you. Watching Daniel finally become a father.”
I looked calmly at her stomach.
“I imagine this situation is painful for several people.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly, but someone called for games, and she drifted away again like a queen wrapped in stolen luxury and borrowed bloodlines.
I placed my gift onto the table.
A blue box tied with silver ribbon.
No card.
For the next hour, I watched them perform their little fantasy.
Daniel kissed Camille’s temple every time cameras appeared nearby. Camille told guests their baby was “a Mercer miracle.” Across the room, Alistair stood near the bar looking pale and sweating through his collar. Every time Camille laughed, his eyes flickered nervously toward Daniel, then toward me.
There was my answer.
He knew that I knew.
After the cake cutting, he followed me quietly into the hallway.
“Naomi,” he whispered. “Please.”
I turned slowly. “Please what?”
His face crumpled immediately. Alistair had always been softer than Daniel, though softness was not the same thing as innocence.
“It only happened once.”
“Then you’re an incredibly efficient brother.”
