The terrace went completely silent, save for the hum of the pool filter in the distance.

I looked at Chloe, then at Julian.

The resemblance was suddenly unmistakable—the same slope of the nose, the same thin upper lip.

“You sick bastards,” Adelaide muttered, her voice trembling as she backed further away from them.

“It was a business arrangement,” Victoria said, her voice cold and steadying.

She stood up, smoothing the front of her cream-colored Chanel suit.

“My son Tyler was weak,” Victoria said, looking directly at me.

“He died of an overdose in Switzerland, and his death would have triggered the immediate dissolution of the Callahan family trust.”

“So you replaced him,” I said, my voice barely audible.

“I saved this family,” Victoria said.

“Julian was Tyler’s college roommate; he knew his habits, his mannerisms, his history.”

“And you paid him to become your son,” I said.

“We gave him a life he could only dream of,” Victoria replied, her eyes narrowing.

Julian finally looked up, his lips peeling back from his teeth.

“You promised me I’d be safe, Victoria,” Julian spat, twisting his wrists in the steel cuffs.