Chapter 4

My world had fractured and reformed in a matter of days.

I met Victoria Rossi first, in a private suite at The Carlyle.

She was elegant, her eyes filled with a deep, searching sadness that melted away when she saw the silver charm bracelet I held out.

Tears streamed down her face as she clutched it.

"Isabella," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "My Isabella."

Alexander Rossi, her husband, my father, joined us later.

He was formidable, the head of a construction empire, but his eyes when he looked at me were filled with a raw, vulnerable hope.

The story of my disappearance, the years of searching, poured out.

I was Isabella "Bella" Rossi. Found.

Overwhelmed but resolute, I made a new plan.

Mark and his betrayals seemed small, distant, from this new vantage point.

But the anger was still there, cold and hard.

I was supposed to meet my parents for dinner. Before I left, I called Mark. No answer.

Then, I overheard it. I was in my old bedroom, packing a few things Mrs. Peterson had kept for me, when I heard voices from the living room. Mark had let himself in. He was on the phone with Diane.

His voice was clear through the thin walls.

"Yeah, Mom, Brittany' s doctor says everything is on track. We just need Sarah out of the picture fast. Minimize any payout. She' s got nothing, she' ll take whatever we offer."

Diane' s sharp laugh echoed. "Good. The sooner that barren leech is gone, the better."

Barren leech.

My hand tightened on a small, locked box Mrs. Peterson had always kept in her closet.

She' d told me it held "important papers."

I' d never opened it.

Now, I did.

Inside, among old letters and her will, was a sealed envelope.

My name was on it, in Mrs. Peterson' s familiar handwriting.

I opened it.

It was the original copy of Mark' s pre-marital medical report.

Diagnosis: Congenital Azoospermia.

Mrs. Peterson, always practical, always looking out for me, even from beyond.

A small, knowing smile touched my lips.

The next morning, Diane Thompson showed up at the house.

Divorce papers clutched in her hand like a trophy.

"Well, Sarah. Time to sign. Mark is moving on. You should too." Her smile was smug.

I looked at her, my newfound composure a shield.

"I already have the papers, Diane. And I' ve already signed them."

I handed her my signed copy.

"I want this divorce finalized immediately. No delays."

Her smugness faltered. She looked surprised, suspicious.

"Oh? Eager to get rid of us, are you?"

"Something like that," I said, my voice cool.

Just then, Mark' s car pulled up.

He got out, Brittany Evans on his arm, her pregnancy now more pronounced.

They both wore expressions of smug superiority.

Mark avoided my eyes. Brittany gave me a pitying glance.

"Got your things, Sarah?" Mark asked, his tone businesslike.

"Most of them," I said. I felt nothing but a cold disdain.

They went inside to grab a few boxes Mark had left.

I waited by the door.