Amber
I sat in silence for a few seconds, letting the words sink in. It felt surreal. Marina Hunter—Rayne’s immaculately composed, impossibly poised mother—was practically begging.
And how could I say no?
I owed her. Without her help, I never would’ve won custody. I didn’t trust easily, not anymore, and certainly not when it came to the Hunter family—but Marina went out of her way to right a wrong. And I couldn’t forget that.
So I said yes.
Which is how I found myself sitting on the armchair by the living room window, sipping tea, while watching what might’ve been one of the strangest yet most unexpectedly heartwarming sights I’d ever seen.
Marina Hunter, in a pale lavender blouse and pressed cream slacks, sat cross-legged on the floor across from my daughter, a small stack of Uno ca
