Elena had buried her mother at twenty-one.

She thought that experience had taught her how funerals worked.

It had not prepared her to bury Richard Bennett while wondering whether her father had helped arrange the marriage that destroyed her life.

Friday morning was gray and brutally cold.

Chicago cold.

The kind that found the space between a glove and a sleeve and punished you for it.

Elena stood near the front of the church in a black wool dress while guests approached one by one.

Some offered condolences.

Some whispered about Zurich.

Others stared too long at Leo.

Mia noticed.

“Want me to start charging admission?”

Elena almost smiled.

“Behave.”

“I am behaving.”

Leo sat beside her swinging his legs.

“Is Grandpa sleeping?”

Elena knelt.

“No, sweetheart.”

“Then where is he?”

She glanced toward the casket.

How did anyone explain death to a child who still believed broken airplanes could be fixed with glue?

“He’s gone somewhere we can’t visit.”

Leo thought about that.

“Like very far?”

“Very far.”

He reached for her hand.

The church doors opened.

The room changed.

Elena knew who had entered before she looked.

Dante.

Black suit. Black overcoat. Nico two steps behind him.

Several people lowered their voices.

Dante Moretti did not attend public funerals without changing the temperature of the room.

Elena’s stomach tightened.

Then another figure stepped through the doors.

Victoria Bennett.

Elena forgot how to breathe.

Her sister looked almost exactly as she had three years earlier.

Tall.

Elegant.

Controlled.

Honey-blond hair pinned beneath a black hat.

A diamond wedding ring on her left hand.

Dante’s ring.

For three years, Elena had imagined seeing Victoria again.

In some versions, she screamed.

In others, she slapped her.

In reality, she did neither.

She simply stared.

Victoria’s gaze found Elena.

Then moved down.

To Leo.

Her face changed.

It was small.

A fraction of a second.

But Elena saw it.

Shock was not the emotion.

Recognition was.

Victoria already knew.

Dante stepped away from her almost immediately.

The distance between husband and wife was subtle enough that no one else would notice.

Elena did.

She had once known every movement Dante made.

Victoria walked toward her.

“I’m sorry about Dad.”

Elena’s voice was flat.

“Are you?”

Victoria flinched.

“Elena.”

“Not here.”

Leo looked between them.

“Mommy, who is she?”

Victoria’s eyes filled.

Elena hated that too.

“This is Victoria.”

“Your sister?”

Elena looked at him.

“Yes.”

Leo smiled politely.

“Hi.”

Victoria crouched.

“Hi, Leo.”

The ease with which she said his name sent ice through Elena.

She had never introduced him.

“How do you know his name?”

Victoria stood too quickly.

Dante looked over.

Victoria’s face tightened.

“Elena—”

“How do you know my son’s name?”

People nearby began to notice.

Mia stepped closer.

Victoria lowered her voice.

“Not here.”

The exact words Elena had used moments earlier.

But now they sounded like an admission.

The service began before Elena could force another answer.

She sat through prayers she barely heard.

Through stories about Richard’s business career.

Through a eulogy describing him as a devoted father.

That almost made her laugh.

Leo held her hand.

Across the aisle, Dante sat alone.

Victoria sat two seats away from him.

Not beside him.

Elena noticed.

She hated herself for noticing.

At the cemetery, Dante kept his distance.

Victoria did too.

But after the burial, everyone returned to the Bennett house.

Elena was trapped between relatives, attorneys, old business partners, and people she had not seen since leaving Chicago.

Leo escaped upstairs with Mia.

By four, Elena needed air.

She stepped into the back hallway.

Victoria was waiting.

“Did you know?”

No greeting.

No pretense.

Victoria closed the door behind them.

“Elena.”

“Did you know I was pregnant?”

Victoria’s face went pale.

“When?”

“When you married him.”

“No.”

Elena searched her expression.

“Did you know afterward?”

Silence.

That was enough.

Elena stepped back.

“Oh my God.”

“I found out months later.”

“How?”

“Dad.”

Elena stared.

“Dad knew?”

“He suspected.”

“And you said nothing?”

“You were gone.”

“You had my email. My phone number. Mia knew where I was.”

“You changed your number twice.”

“Because your husband kept calling me!”

Victoria’s eyes flashed.

“He isn’t—”

She stopped.

Elena caught it.

“He isn’t what?”

“Nothing.”

“Say it.”

Victoria looked away.

Elena laughed bitterly.

“You know what the worst part is? I spent three years wondering which one of you betrayed me more.”

“Dante didn’t betray you the way you think.”

Elena went still.

“You do not get to defend him.”

“I’m not defending him.”

“You married him.”

“Yes.”

“Three weeks after he stopped coming to my apartment.”

Victoria’s composure cracked.

“You think I don’t know?”

“You stood at the altar.”

“You think I wanted that wedding?”

Elena stared at her.

Victoria immediately regretted the words.

Too late.

“What does that mean?”

“Elena, you need to talk to Dante.”

“I spent eight years talking to Dante.”

“No. You spent eight years asking him questions he was not allowed to answer.”

“Allowed?”

Victoria closed her eyes.

“Forget I said that.”

“No.”

“Elena.”

“Why did he marry you?”

Victoria turned toward the window.

Outside, black cars lined the street.

“Ask him.”

“I did.”

“And?”

“He blamed Dad.”

Victoria gave a humorless laugh.

“Of course he did.”

“Was he lying?”

“No.”

The answer came too fast.

Elena’s pulse accelerated.

“What did Dad do?”

Victoria looked at her.

For the first time, Elena saw something beneath her sister’s polished exterior.

Fear.

Not guilt.

Fear.

“Dad made choices before either of us understood what they would cost.”

“That tells me nothing.”

“It’s more than I should have said.”

“You slept beside the man I loved for three years and now you want to lecture me about what you should say?”

Victoria’s expression hardened.

“I never slept beside Dante.”

The hallway went silent.

Elena stared at her.

“What?”

Victoria realized what she had revealed.

But she didn’t take it back.

“You heard me.”

“You’re married.”

“Yes.”

“For three years.”

“Yes.”

“And you expect me to believe—”

“I don’t care what you believe.”

Elena’s anger returned.

“Then why marry him?”

Victoria’s eyes glistened.

“Because there are things worse than marrying a man who doesn’t love you.”

Before Elena could answer, Victoria moved toward the door.

Elena caught her wrist.

“One more question.”

Victoria looked down at her hand.

Elena released her.

“Did Dante tell you why he married me?” Victoria asked.

“No.”

Something changed in Victoria’s face.

A bitter understanding.

“Of course he didn’t.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Victoria opened the door.

“Because if he tells you the truth, you’ll hate our father more than you ever hated me.”

She walked away.

Elena stood frozen.

A moment later, Mia appeared at the other end of the hall.

“Elena?”

Elena barely heard her.

She was staring at the empty doorway.

Her father had known about Leo.

Victoria had known.

Dante claimed Richard was the reason for the marriage.

And her sister had just told her that in three years of marriage, she and Dante had never shared a bed.

“Elena.”

Mia touched her arm.

“There’s a lawyer asking for you.”

“What lawyer?”

“Charles Whitmore.”

Elena frowned.

Her father’s longtime attorney.

“He says Richard left something that can only be given to you.”

“What?”

“A box.”

Elena looked toward the study.

Mia lowered her voice.

“He said your father ordered him to give it to you only after he was buried.”

For the first time that day, Elena felt afraid of a dead man.