Could there be some misunderstanding?
Then he leaned down and kissed her on the lips, and every pitiful illusion I'd been clinging to shattered.
The woman let out a soft, satisfied hum. "She's still so easy to fool. Last time she literally saw me run her down, and you told her she was remembering it wrong, and she actually believed you!"
Every drop of blood in my body turned to ice.
That voice. I would know it if I were dead.
My stepsister. Julie Harding.
A crushing ache spread through my chest. I stared at Piers, unable to comprehend what I was seeing.
He knew better than anyone what Julie Harding had done to me.
"This miscarriage should be my turn," Julie pouted, her voice dripping with petulance. "You handled the first two. I should get the next two. That's only fair!"
Piers pinched her nose and smiled. "Whatever you want."
I bit down on my lip so hard I tasted blood, swallowing the scream clawing up my throat.
Every miscarriage had been orchestrated. Every single one.
The bone-deep agony of losing my children was nothing more than a scoreboard in their sick little game.
During the car accident that caused my third miscarriage, I had seen Julie. I knew I'd seen her.