“You wouldn’t do that to her,” I said, though I knew he would.

“Try me,” he said.

The refrigerator hummed in the corner, a low, monotonous sound.

Outside, a sudden gust of wind sent dry leaves scratching against the kitchen window.

I looked at Richard’s face, searching for any sign of the man I had married.

Instead, I saw a stranger with a cold, calculating mind.

My eyes drifted from his sharp jawline to Rose’s face.

There was something in the slope of their noses, the slight tilt of their eyes.

I looked down at the counter where a framed photograph of Claire sat.

Claire had that same distinct slope to her nose.

I had always assumed it was just a coincidence.

Now, seeing them in the same room, the resemblance was striking.

But resemblance wasn’t proof.

I needed something undeniable, something Richard’s lawyers couldn’t touch.

I needed biological certainty.

My gaze fell on the glass of water Richard had poured earlier.

It sat near the edge of the island, a smudge of his fingerprints on the side.