Chapter 1

I froze at the sight of the baby in the man's arms. It couldn't have been more than a few months old.

Teresa Payne always said we should wait a few more years to have kids, at least until her career was on firmer ground. Yet here was her baby with another man.

That explained the sudden business trip a year ago, the one that kept her away for months. She had gone away to have his baby.

"Hey. Can I help you?"

The guy leaned around the door in a loose T-shirt and sweatpants, looking puzzled.

"Hey, I live downstairs." I kept my voice steady and even managed a friendly smile. "Sorry to bother you, but my cat got out. I think he climbed up onto your balcony railing. Mind if I come in and take a look?"

It was a lousy excuse. We didn't even have a cat.

But the man just smiled and stepped aside.

"Oh, hey, neighbor. Yeah, come on in. Cats can get just about anywhere, huh? Let's find him before he takes off."

"Thanks." I stepped onto a soft wool rug; it was the same brand as ours, just a lighter shade.

The apartment had the same layout as ours, with a clear view from the entryway. Sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, and a faint woody scent hung in the air.

Every detail reflected the care someone took to make this a comfortable home.

I scanned the room until an oil painting on the living room wall stopped me cold.

Whispers of the Stars. The artist wasn't well known, but when Teresa and I saw it at a gallery six months ago, I fell in love with it.

Back then, Teresa put an arm around my shoulders and gave me an apologetic squeeze.

"Oh, Frank, I'm sorry. Someone already reserved it. The gallery won't say who, but apparently, they offered a fortune."

She even spent weeks asking around to make it up to me, only to tell me the artist no longer painted. It was a one-of-a-kind piece. There wouldn't be another.

Yet here it was, hanging on someone else's wall.

"You like the painting?"

He walked over with a glass of water and followed my gaze, his face brightening.

"My wife gave me that. It's called Whispers of the Stars. She said it means there's always someone looking out for you, like the stars overhead."

He lingered over the title, his voice softening as he said it.

I took the glass, my cold fingers closing around its smooth surface. My voice came out rough.

"Your wife sounds thoughtful."

"Yeah, she is." He grinned and settled onto the couch. "She really looks out for me. By the way, I'm Anthony Holmes. What's your name?"

"Frank Marshall."

I gave him my name, but my gaze kept drifting toward the nursery beside the balcony. Through the half-open door, I could see a room with everything a baby could need.

Anthony followed my gaze. "You think your cat's in there? I'll take a look."

He started to get up.

"It's alright. I've got it. Stay there."

I moved toward the nursery before he could get up.

An elegant ivory crib stood in the middle of the room. I recognized it immediately.

When Teresa and I first talked about having kids, I spent hours researching furniture for the nursery. That exact model was still in my online shopping cart.

I wanted our baby to have the best, and I planned to buy it when the time came.

When I showed it to Teresa, she frowned.

"Frank, six grand dollars for a crib? That's ridiculous. Sure, it's beautiful, but our baby would outgrow it in no time. We can get a nice wooden crib for a fraction of that."