Sophia couldn't stop staring at Alexander.
"Ask Sophia where her mother really died."
Those words kept repeating inside her head.
Her mother had died when Sophia was only eight years old.
For years, she had believed the story she'd been told.
A car accident.
A rainy night.
A hospital.
Her mother had never made it.
But now everything she believed was beginning to fall apart.
"Alexander," she whispered. "I need to know."
"I know."
"Then tell me what you know."
"I don't know where your mother really died."
Sophia shook her head.
"But whoever called you knows."
"Yes."
"And they knew my mother."
Alexander nodded.
Sophia looked at the photograph again.
Her mother's smile was unmistakable.
But the man standing beside her was the problem.
Alexander's uncle.
A man supposedly
