I stare at him, this stranger I thought I knew.
“Who am I?” My voice doesn’t sound like my own.
I point to the laptop. “Who am I, Vince? Or should I be asking, who do you think I am?”
All the color drains from his face. For once, Vincent Akopov looks genuinely caught off-guard.
“Don’t.” I stand, backing away from him. “Don’t you dare ‘Rowan’ me right now. Not until you explain why you have five years of surveillance on me. Not until you explain why your laptop thinks I’m Grigor Petrov’s daughter.”
He doesn’t deny it. Doesn’t even look surprised by what I’ve found.
And that’s when I know it’s all true.
“Were you ever going to tell me?” I whisper.
“Yes.” He takes a step toward me. I take a step back. “… Eventually.”
“When? After we were married? After the baby was born? When you fin
