Chapter 1

When Helen Foster came out of the kitchen, I was still holding her phone. One look at the screen was enough to drain the color from her face.

"Winnie, were you going through my phone?"

I swallowed my anger. "Who was Yale calling Mom?"

She reached for the phone instead of answering. "He's a little kid. He doesn't know what he's saying. Don't let it get to you."

"What about the three hundred twenty-seven photos? Did those just happen too?"

She had nothing to say to that.

For a long moment, she sat there in silence before finally sighing. "It really did start because of Yale. Three years ago, you went to pick him up, and he cried so hard he threw up. Yara studied child psychology, and she said it was school-pickup anxiety. She thought we needed to intervene before it got worse."

"So you decided Yara Xavier was a better choice than his own mother?"

Helen took my hand, her voice turning gentle. "You carried Yale for nine months and gave birth to him. No one could ever take your place."

Then she added, "Yara's different. She lost a baby three years ago, and it damaged her health. Yale's close to her. Letting him call her Mom now and then gives her some comfort."

My hand went rigid in hers.

I knew about Yara's miscarriage. Yates had spent the entire night at the hospital with her.

When he'd come home before dawn, her message was still glowing on his phone.

[Yates, I took the medication. Don't worry.]

He'd locked the screen and wrapped his arms around me.

"Yara's in bad shape. I can't just ignore her."

Yale had just started preschool back then.

And somehow, it was that same month that his so-called school-pickup anxiety suddenly began.

The front door unlocked before I could say anything else.

Yates walked in, took one look at his mother and me in the living room, then noticed the untouched dinner on the table.

"Your stomach acting up again?"

He shrugged off his suit jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and headed straight into the kitchen. Ten minutes later, he set a bowl of chicken noodle soup in front of me.

He knew my stomach was sensitive. For years, no matter how busy he was, he'd made a point of coming home on time to cook dinner for me.

So when he sat beside me and pulled me against him, some old instinct still made me look up at him.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Yates went quiet. After a few seconds, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

"Because I knew it would hurt you."

I stared at him. "So you knew."

"Of course I knew."

He took my hand and slowly rubbed his thumb over my fingertips, as if that somehow made what he was saying easier to hear.

"That's why I didn't think there was any point in telling you."

For a moment, I couldn't believe I'd heard him correctly.

"And where does that leave me?"

He paused before answering.

"You wait for Yale at home every day. When he gets back, you're still the first person he sees."

Before I could respond, Yale's bedroom door opened.

He came out clutching his smartwatch, and my eyes fell to the screen.

I glanced down at his smartwatch. Only three contacts were pinned at the top, and my name was all the way down at number seven.

[Winnie Lawson]

Yates's expression darkened at once. He took the watch from Yale.

"Who told you to change the contact names?"

Yale frowned and tried to snatch it back. "Mommy Yara picks me up every day. She is my mom."

I froze.

He only grew more stubborn when he saw my reaction.

"I'm not wrong. You don't even care about me. Mommy Yara is the one who's actually there."

Then he looked straight at me, annoyance written all over his face.

"You're a bad woman. You don't deserve to be my mom!"

Yates's face changed instantly.

"Yale Foster!"

Silence dropped over the living room.

Then the smartwatch rang.

Yara's picture flashed across the screen.

Yale grabbed it back before Yates could stop him and answered immediately.

"Mommy!"

He glared at me as he spoke.

"Winnie Lawson found out. Come get me. I don't want to stay here with her."

He had barely finished before Yates picked him up, holding him close as he cried and struggled.

"Mommy, get the car keys."

I looked at him. "Where are you taking him?"

"To Yara's."