skin and straight into my bones. I stared at Vivian. The matriarch was no longer looking at Graham, who was still sobbing in the snow, or at Chloe, who was quietly trying to sneak back into the house. Vivian was staring at me, her face a mask of absolute, terrified recognition.
“You did this,” I breathed, the realization a physical weight crushing my lungs.
Vivian’s jaw tightened. “I did what was necessary for the Harrington legacy.”
“Mother?” Graham croaked from the snow. “What is she talking about?”
Before Vivian could speak, another car pulled through the gates—a battered sedan. A woman scrambled out, clutching a leather binder to her chest. It was Nora Vance, the private nurse from the exclusive Harrington fertility clinic. She was the nurse who had abruptly vanished three months into my pregnancy, the one Vivian had dismissed as “mentally unstable.”
“Ms. Vale!” Nora shouted, running toward
