A few minutes later, the floorboards creaked behind me, and Maren stepped into the room.

She sat on the opposite end of the old fabric sofa, pulling her knees up to her chest.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she said quietly.

“I think I have,” I replied, looking into the gray ash of the hearth.

“What did Mercer say?” she asked.

“My mother knew,” I said, my voice flat. “She had proof that Noah and Lila were mine years ago.”

Maren closed her eyes, her head dropping back against the sofa cushion.

A long, slow breath escaped her lips.

“She knew, and she still let Celeste drive me out,” Maren whispered.

“Yes,” I said. “She wanted a daughter-in-law she could control, and Celeste fit the mold perfectly.”

“I’m sorry, Adrian,” Maren said, opening her eyes to look at me.

“Don’t be sorry,” I said, shaking my head. “I was the one who let them dictate my life.”

“We were both young,” she said. “But you’re different now.”

“I am trying to be,” I said, looking at my hands, which were stained with blue crayon.