James’s footsteps echo up the stairs, but it’s Dupont’s words ringing in my ears: “Two mothers trading their babies.” The envelope in my hands suddenly feels heavier, its edges cutting into my palms. Could it contain the truth about that too? The truth we’ve all been dancing around? The weight of twenty years of secrets threatens to crush me where I stand.
“Get in the bathroom,” Alex whispers urgently, pushing me toward the en-suite. “Lock the door. Don’t come out until I tell you. No matter what you hear.”
“I’m not leaving you alone with him.” My voice shakes, but I plant my feet firmly against the plush carpet. The darkness beyond the doorway seems to pulse with secrets, shadows dancing in the dim hallway light. The grandfather clock downstairs chimes midnight, each toll like a dea
