"Tell me she's not working with him," Aria said.
Damien stared at the photo on her phone. Elena smiled beside Victor at a candlelit dinner, both holding wine glasses, both looking relaxed. The image seemed intimate, comfortable, like old friends catching up over a meal. "I can't tell you that. I don't know the truth any more than you do."
"You can't confirm it either."
"No." He handed the phone back, his fingers brushing hers. "But the woman in that photograph doesn't look like a prisoner. She looks like a guest. Someone who chose to be there."
Aria's stomach turned. The eggs she had eaten for breakfast threatened to come back up. "My mother wouldn't betray me. She wouldn't sit at a table with the man who kept her hidden for five years."
"Your mother signed a contract selling your fut
