“You really think you can just walk away with him?” Julian said.

“He’s not your husband anymore, Claire.”

“The records say he doesn’t exist.”

He looked at Alexander, a strange expression passing over his face.

“And besides,” Julian said, taking another step.

“He wanted this.”

I stared at him, my heart stopping.

“What?” I whispered.

“Ask him,” Julian said, pointing his umbrella at his brother.

“Ask him why he agreed to the swap in the first place.”

I looked at Alexander.

His head was hanging down, his breathing ragged.

“Alexander?” I whispered.

He didn’t look up, but his grip on my shoulder tightened.

He opened his mouth to speak.

“I had to,” Alexander whispered.

His voice was a dry, scraping sound that barely carried over the noise of the falling rain.

I looked at his face, pale and wet under the harsh glare of the headlights.

“What do you mean, you had to?” I asked.

My fingers dug into the damp fabric of his sleeve.

Julian took a slow step closer, his polished leather shoes splashing in a shallow puddle.

“Tell her, brother,” Julian said.