I don't remember leaving the library. Don't remember walking through the marble halls of Leon's mansion or descending the curved staircase that probably cost more than my entire neighborhood. My body moved on autopilot while my mind tried to process the impossible.
My mother was alive.
Grace Bennett the woman I'd mourned for twelve years, whose grave I'd visited every birthday, whose memory had shaped every decision I'd made wasn't dead. She'd been out there somewhere, living and breathing and watching me from a distance like I was some kind of art exhibition she could observe but never touch.
The anger hit me so suddenly I had to stop walking, gripping the mahogany banister until my knuckles went white.
"Amara?"
Damien's voice. Concerned, gentle. Everything his h
