Chapter 1 - TWO PINK LINES
“Emma?”
Liam knocked again.
“You okay?”
I shoved the pregnancy test beneath a folded towel just as the bathroom door handle moved.
“Don’t come in.”
My voice cracked badly enough that Liam went silent.
For several seconds, I heard nothing except my own breathing and the old exhaust fan rattling above me.
Then Liam spoke again.
“You’ve been throwing up every morning for four days.”
“I ate something bad.”
“You work at a diner, Liz.”
My entire body froze.
He had used my real name.
Liam only called me Elizabeth when he was frightened.
I opened the door.
He stood in the hallway wearing gray sweatpants and an old Northwestern sweatshirt, holding a mug of coffee that instantly made my stomach turn again.
His expression changed the second he saw my face.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Elizabeth.”
“Lower your voice.”
His jaw tightened.
Nobody outside that apartment was supposed to know Elizabeth Shaw existed.
According to every document I had used for the last four years, I was Emma Reed.
Emma Reed had a Social Security number.
Emma Reed had a driver’s license.
Emma Reed had a nursing school application.
Emma Reed worked breakfast shifts at Mary’s Diner and occasional catering events around Chicago.
Elizabeth Shaw was the daughter of Thomas and Rebecca Shaw.
Elizabeth Shaw had supposedly died in the same car accident that killed her parents seven years earlier.
At least that was what certain people had been encouraged to believe.
Liam stepped into the bathroom and closed the door.
“What is going on?”
I swallowed.
Then the towel slipped.
The pregnancy test rolled across the tile and stopped beside his bare foot.
Liam stared down at it.
His face went completely still.
“No.”
I looked away.
“Liz.”
“Don’t.”
“Is that positive?”
“You know it is.”
He bent down slowly and picked it up.
For the first time since we had been children, I saw genuine panic in Liam Carter’s eyes.
“Who?”
I didn’t answer.
His gaze sharpened.
“Who is the father?”
I gripped the edge of the sink.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters if somebody can connect you to him.”
“He can’t.”
“Who is he?”
I closed my eyes.
When I said the name, it barely came out.
“Alessandro Vitali.”
The test slipped from Liam’s fingers.
It hit the floor again.
He stared at me as if I had just told him I had swallowed poison.
“You slept with Alessandro Vitali?”
“Keep your voice down.”
“Of every man in Chicago, you chose a Vitali?”
“I didn’t choose his family.”
“That is exactly the problem.”
Anger flared inside me.
“You think I don’t know that?”
“I think you knew enough to go into that hotel looking for answers about your parents.”
“I was supposed to get near his uncle.”
“And instead you got near Alessandro.”
His words landed harder than I wanted them to.
Six weeks earlier, I had not volunteered for the Obsidian Hotel gala because I needed catering money.
Liam had spent months tracing a shell corporation named Halcyon Development.
That corporation had purchased the warehouse where my father had secretly stored financial records before he died.
Three days before the gala, Liam discovered Halcyon was controlled through a chain of companies connected to Matteo Vitali.
Alessandro’s uncle.
The gala had been our first real chance to get close.
My job had been simple.
Listen.
Watch.
Find out whether Matteo still kept records at the Obsidian.
Instead, Alessandro had noticed me.
And I had allowed myself one night pretending I was merely a lonely woman named Emma.
Liam dragged a hand through his hair.
“Does Alessandro know your real name?”
“No.”
“Does he know where you live?”
“No.”
“Does he have your phone number?”
“No.”
Relief crossed Liam’s face for half a second.
Then my phone started ringing in the bedroom.
We both stared toward the door.
Nobody called me this early except the diner.
I walked into my room and picked up the phone.
Unknown number.
Liam shook his head.
“Don’t answer.”
The call stopped.
A message appeared immediately afterward.
My blood went cold.
I read it twice.
Then I handed the phone to Liam.
His face drained of color.
The message contained only seven words.
I KNOW WHO EMMA REED REALLY IS.
May you like
A second message arrived.
AND SO DOES ALESSANDRO VITALI.
