TIED IN HIS BED
His hair was tousled, his uniform wrinkled, and a backpack sagged off one shoulder.
The boy blinked at her. “You’re not Uncle Carson.”
Panic stabbed her chest. “No, I… I’m a friend.”
The boy tilted his head, studying her with unnerving intelligence. “He doesn’t bring friends here. Not like you, anyway.”
Her cheeks burned. “And who are you?”
He straightened, pride puffing his chest. “Nathan. His nephew.”
Her heart stuttered. Nephew. Not son, but the resemblance was too strong to ignore. She remembered whispers in the society pages rumors of a child, a scandal Carson had hidden from the public eye. So it was true.
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