Chapter 1 - THE MARK
“If that birthmark is real, my husband stole you from me.”
The dinner rush at Bellamy’s stopped cold.
Forks froze halfway to mouths. A wineglass slipped from someone’s hand and shattered near the bar.
Emily Bennett stood beside table twelve with a plate of sea bass balanced in one hand and Margaret Ashford gripping her other wrist.
Emily’s first instinct was to pull away.
Her second was to look at the woman’s face.
Margaret wasn’t angry.
She looked terrified.
“Ma’am,” Emily said, keeping her voice low, “you’re hurting me.”
Margaret released her at once.
“I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry.”
Thomas Ashford rose from his chair.
He was silver-haired, expensive-looking, the kind of man who seemed dressed for a board meeting even at dinner.
“Margaret, sit down.”
She ignored him.
Her eyes stayed fixed on the back of Emily’s right hand.
The mark was small, red-brown, and shaped almost perfectly like a heart.
Emily had covered it with makeup as a teenager because kids used to tease her about it. These days she barely noticed it.
Margaret noticed.
She noticed everything.
“Were you born with that?”
Emily glanced around the restaurant.
People were staring.
“Yes.”
Margaret swallowed hard.
“May I see it?”
“You’re already seeing it.”
“No. I mean… up close.”
Thomas grabbed his wife’s elbow.
“That’s enough.”
Margaret jerked away from him.
“Don’t touch me.”
His expression changed for half a second.
Not embarrassment.
Fear.
Emily saw it.
Margaret saw it too.
Slowly, Emily placed the plate on the table.
“I’ve had this mark since I was a baby,” she said. “My foster mom used to call it my lucky heart.”
Margaret made a sound like the air had been punched out of her.
Then she sank to her knees.
“Margaret!” Thomas snapped.
She opened her purse with shaking hands and pulled out a small silver locket.
It was oval, tarnished around the edges, with a tiny engraved rose on the front.
Margaret held it toward Emily.
“Have you ever seen one like this?”
Emily stopped breathing.
Her fingers rose automatically to her neck.
Thomas went pale.
Emily unbuttoned the top button of her black uniform and pulled out the chain she had worn since childhood.
An identical silver locket rested against her skin.
Nobody at the table moved.
Margaret whispered, “No.”
Emily looked from her necklace to the one in Margaret’s hand.
“What the hell is going on?”
Margaret started crying.
Not delicate tears.
Her whole body shook.
“I had two made,” she said. “One for me. One for my daughter.”
Thomas stepped forward.
“Margaret, you are upsetting this young woman.”
“My daughter died twenty-two years ago.”
Emily’s stomach tightened.
Margaret looked at her.
“At least that’s what they told me.”
Thomas’s voice became sharp.
“Stop.”
Margaret stood.
“There was a fire at St. Matthew’s Hospital. The nursery wing filled with smoke. They said several infants died.”
Emily whispered, “Why didn’t you see the body?”
“I asked.”
Margaret looked at Thomas.
“My husband told me there was nothing left to see.”
Emily felt suddenly cold.
Thomas stared back at his wife.
“That was what the doctors told us.”
“You told me not to ask questions.”
“You were sedated. You were grieving.”
“I was a mother.”
Thomas lowered his voice.
“And right now, you’re making a scene over a coincidence.”
Emily stared at him.
Something about the way he said coincidence made her skin crawl.
“My foster mother said I wasn’t adopted through an agency,” Emily said.
Margaret turned instantly.
“What did she tell you?”
“That someone left me at a convent.”
Thomas’s jaw tightened.
“What convent?”
Emily hesitated.
“Saint Anne’s.”
Margaret gripped the back of a chair.
Thomas took one step backward.
Margaret stared at him.
“Claire worked at Saint Anne’s.”
Thomas said nothing.
“Your sister worked there,” Margaret continued. “The year of the fire.”
“Margaret—”
“You knew.”
“No.”
“You knew!”
He slammed his hand against the table.
“Enough!”
The entire restaurant fell silent again.
Emily recoiled.
Thomas noticed and forced his face calm.
“We’re leaving.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Margaret said.
Thomas reached for Emily.
“We all need to calm down.”
Emily pulled her arm away.
“Don’t touch me.”
At that moment, the restaurant manager hurried toward them.
He looked nervous.
“Emily?”
“What?”
“There’s a man outside asking for you.”
Thomas’s head snapped toward the window.
The manager continued.
“He says it’s urgent.”
Emily looked through the glass.
A black Lincoln sat at the curb.
Beside it stood an elderly man in a dark coat.
He was holding a photograph.
Even from inside the restaurant, Emily recognized Margaret’s younger face.
Margaret was lying in a hospital bed.
In her arms was a newborn baby.
Thomas whispered, “Jesus Christ.”
Emily heard him.
Margaret did too.
The old man outside raised the photograph against the window.
Then he pointed directly at Thomas.
And mouthed three words.
May you like
HE TOOK HER.
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