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Chapter 3

Word Count: 1231    |    Released on: 10/04/2026

ulling the heavy velvet curtains until the California s

pearing into her hands. Her shoulders shook with silent

d by the do

the mind had forced it to carry. In the Sanctuary, Master Kaelen had taught her to

ystal decanters caught the dim light

e glass into her mothe

et the glass down with a click and dre

n. "New York. Twenty-on

bitter laugh. "Your father was closing a deal in Tokyo. He flew back whe

ond chair closer and sat, her body an

lways finding reasons to stay late at the office." Her hands twisted in her lap. "I didn't think anything

darkness, Emilie could see th

oming from somewhere down the hall. They evacuated us. Moved us to the emergency stairwell

covered her mother's, feeling

t was wrong. The smell was wrong. And when I unwrapped the blanket-" Her voi

Emilie said. "Dur

ate strength. "I went to the nursery the next morning. I demanded to see the other babies. And there she was-Corie-lying in

? Why didn't you call the

ord. "-Archibald Dunlap cares about one thing only. The appearance of propriety. If I'd announced that his grandd

r face emerging from s

called me 'Mommy,' my heart wasn't screaming for my real child. And all the while, I used Dunlap money and Dunlap connections to

t in her chest-a sensation

Not a question. "Corie. You thought s

. The woman-she was screaming that Burnett had to take responsibility, that t

ut

's not a liar. Not about this. When I finally accused him, three years ago, he looked at me like I'd lost my mind. He sw

ther's inexplicable favoritism toward Corie. The way her own father, Burnett, shif

uietly. "To this story. Mo

widened. "What

parted the curtain just enough to let

e carried the weight of absolute certainty. "What matters is that I'

alm eyes and the capable hands and the aura of command

ered. "What happened to

ose," she said. "That'

rrupted whatever respons

med herself back into Mrs. Burnett Dunlap in the space

nt bags-enormous things with logos that screamed expense: Prada, Valentino, G

er these. She selected them from her own wardrobe as a welcome gift for Miss Emilie. She

tightened on

d the first garment bag, unzipped it wit

previous wear, not storage. And there, barely detectable beneath the floral notes of ex

iscoloration at the hem-champagne, perhaps, from a party three weeks ago. She'd seen the ph

htful," Em

opened. Th

rpet in a puddle of

ith a gaze that made him step backward, "that I don't wear other peopl

ightly, sending it sli

iled, and for the first time, there was genuine

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