Adrian’s mother, Vivienne, pushed through the crowd, her elegant composure cracking with every step. She looked at the twins, at their gray eyes, and I watched the same recognition that had drained her son’s face drain hers. “Get away from them,” she hissed at Adrian, gripping his arm. “We are leaving. Now.” But Adrian did not move. For the first time in five years, he was not obeying his mother.

“Are they mine?” he asked again, louder this time, ignoring the woman who had spent a fortune arranging my erasure. Vivienne’s eyes snapped to me, and in them I saw not just anger but genuine terror. Because she knew what I knew. She knew what was inside that sealed legal file. And she knew that if her son learned the truth standing in the middle of Oakmont Mall, three million dollars would not be able to bury it ever again.