Chapter 2

The cafe in Zurich was quiet, smelling of roasted coffee and old books. Kaden Koch sat across from her, his expression serious. He hadn't changed much in five years-still the same sharp eyes, the same calm demeanor that had made him such a formidable presence in the boardroom.

"The identity is clean," he said, sliding a thin folder across the table. "Kate Harding. No past, just a brilliant resume I fabricated based on your actual work. You'll have a new passport, new social security, new everything. The apartment is ready. The lab is waiting for you."

"Thank you, Kaden," Catherine said. Kate. It sounded strange. "I don't know how to repay you."

"Just be the genius I always knew you were," he said with a small smile. "That's payment enough."

She returned to the hotel that Derek had booked for her "recovery." It felt more like a gilded cage. He was waiting in the lobby, his face etched with a convincing performance of worry.

"Cat, where have you been all night? I was so worried." He tried to take her arm, but she sidestepped him.

"I needed some air."

Errol was there, hiding behind Derek's legs. He peeked out at her, and his lip curled in disgust. "You're back."

The words were a physical blow. She remembered him as a toddler, his chubby arms wrapped around her neck, his sleepy breath warm on her cheek. Now, he looked at her as if she were a monster.

She ignored them both and walked towards the elevator. Derek followed, his voice a low, pleading murmur.

"I know I messed up, Cat. I'm so sorry. I can't lose you again."

She thought of the years he'd spent by her bedside, the tender way he' d brushed her hair, the stories he'd read to her unconscious form. It was all a lie. A performance for the nurses, for her parents, for himself.

"My birthday is next week," he said, a hopeful note in his voice. "I want to do something special. For you."

"Don't," she said, her voice flat.

He ignored her. "Just come to our room. I have a surprise."

Against her better judgment, she followed him. The suite's spare bedroom had been transformed. It was filled, floor to ceiling, with designer boxes. Chanel, Dior, Hermès. A mountain of luxury goods.

"For you," he said, beaming. "Anything you want."

She walked through the room, a ghost in a museum of someone else's life. She picked up a silk scarf, a pattern she had always hated. She saw a bottle of perfume, a scent Anjelica had been wearing the day before.

Mixed in with the new items were things that were clearly used. A handbag with a faint scratch near the clasp. A pair of sunglasses with a smudge on the lens.

They were Anjelica's cast-offs. He was giving her Anjelica's leftovers.

A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "Get rid of it. All of it."

"What?" Derek looked genuinely confused. "But... I thought you'd like it."

"She' s so ungrateful!" Errol's voice piped up from the doorway. "Mommy Anjelica would love these things! You're a bad mommy!"

Catherine froze. The pain was so sharp, so sudden, it stole her breath. She had endured a nine-month pregnancy that nearly killed her. She had spent countless sleepless nights rocking him, singing to him, loving him with every cell of her being.

And he called her the bad mommy.

"Errol, that's enough," Derek said weakly, but there was no force behind his words. He was placating the boy, not defending her. "Come on, Cat. I have one more thing. The real gift."

He led her into the main living area. On a velvet cushion sat a diamond ring. It was enormous, a flawless, heart-shaped stone that glittered under the lights.

"It's the Heart of the Ocean," Derek said, his voice reverent. "There's only one in the world. Just like you."

The news was already reporting on it. Tech CEO Derek Alexander purchases legendary diamond for his beloved wife, Catherine, to celebrate her miraculous recovery.

He took her hand and tried to slide the ring onto her finger.

It didn't fit. It was too small, stopping at her knuckle.

Derek's smile faltered. "That's... odd. You must have gained some weight in the hospital. We can get it resized."

The lie was so bald-faced, so insulting. Her hands were thinner than they had ever been, frail and bony after five years of atrophy. The ring wasn't made for her. It was made for Anjelica's slender fingers.

He was still talking, the news report droning on in the background about the ring's uniqueness, a symbol of undying love.

She looked into his eyes. And for a terrifying moment, she saw sincerity there. He believed his own lies. He was a man capable of loving two women at once-or perhaps, loving the idea of what each woman represented. He wanted her brilliance and prestige, but he also wanted Anjelica's easy comfort and compliance. He wanted it all.

"Derek," she said, her voice quiet but firm, cutting through his speech. "If you had to choose, right now, between me and her... who would it be?"

She needed to hear it. Even if it meant the end, she needed the truth.

His face went pale. He opened his mouth to answer, but his phone buzzed on the table. He glanced at the screen. The caller ID was a simple, single letter: A.

His expression changed instantly. A flicker of panic, then annoyance, then a weary resignation.

"I... I have to take this," he stammered, already moving toward the door. "It's an emergency at the office."

He was halfway out the door when he paused. "What were you asking me just now?"

She shook her head, a hollow feeling spreading through her chest. "Nothing. It was nothing."

"Don't let them wait too long," she added, her voice laced with an irony he completely missed.

He didn't notice. He came back, kissed her forehead with a tenderness that made her sick. "I'll be right back. Wait for me."

The moment the door clicked shut, she picked up the heart-shaped diamond. She walked to the trash can and dropped it in. It landed with a soft, unsatisfying clink.

He had already answered her question.