Chapter 1 - The Last Line
The final note of the lullaby barely left the maid’s lips.
Then the dining room became so silent Andrew could hear the old grandfather clock ticking in the hallway.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
His sons were still wrapped around the woman on the floor.
Eight-year-old Evan had both arms around her neck.
Six-year-old Ben pressed his cheek against her shoulder, his little fingers tangled in the white apron tied around her waist.
Andrew could not move.
He had heard that song hundreds of times.
But it was not the melody that terrified him.
It was the last line.
When the stars forget to shine, I’ll still find my way to you.
Rachel had written those words herself.
She had made up the lullaby when Evan was a baby because the boy had been afraid of thunderstorms. She had never written it down. Never recorded it. Never sung it in public.
Andrew knew because he had once teased her about it.
“You should copyright that,” he had said while standing beside Evan’s crib.
Rachel had laughed softly.
“No. This belongs to us.”
Only three people had ever heard the complete song.
Andrew.
Evan.
And Rachel.
Ben had been too young to remember the words when Rachel supposedly died.
Yet the maid had sung every note exactly as Rachel had.
Andrew stared at her.
“What is your name?”
The woman swallowed.
“Mara Lewis.”
“No.”
Her face tightened.
“That is my name.”
Andrew stepped forward.
The woman in the blue silk dress moved with him.
“Andrew, this is insane.”
Victoria Sterling had been standing beside him all evening at the charity gala downtown. She had returned to the mansion with him less than twenty minutes earlier, still wearing diamonds at her throat and anger beneath her perfect smile.
She had expected champagne.
She had expected a quiet conversation about their engagement announcement.
She had not expected to find Andrew’s sons crying in a maid’s arms.
And she certainly had not expected the maid to sing a dead woman’s secret song.
Victoria squeezed Andrew’s arm.
“You’re grieving. The boys are grieving. She probably heard the song somewhere.”
Andrew did not look at her.
“Where?”
Victoria hesitated.
“What?”
“Where could she have heard it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Neither do I.”
Mara slowly stood.
The boys rose with her.
Andrew watched her carefully.
The movement.
The way she steadied Ben with her left hand.
The slight tilt of her head when she was frightened.
Something cold slid through his chest.
Rachel used to do that.
No.
He told himself not to be ridiculous.
He had buried Rachel.
He had stood beside a polished walnut coffin beneath freezing rain while a priest spoke about eternity.
He had placed his wedding ring against the coffin before they lowered it into the earth.
He had watched the grave disappear beneath white roses.
Dead people did not come back wearing a maid’s uniform.
“Show me your wrist,” Andrew said.
Mara instinctively pulled her sleeve down.
Victoria laughed sharply.
“This has gone far enough.”
Andrew turned his head.
“Leave.”
Victoria blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“Go upstairs.”
“You cannot be serious.”
“I am very serious.”
Something changed in Victoria’s expression.
Only for a second.
Fear.
Then it disappeared.
She lifted her chin.
“Fine. But when you realize this woman is manipulating two traumatized children, remember that I warned you.”
She walked away.
Her heels struck the marble floor one measured step at a time.
Mara watched her leave.
And went pale.
Andrew noticed.
“You know her?”
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
“Mara.”
“I said no.”
Her hands were shaking.
Andrew lowered his voice.
“Show me your wrist.”
Mara slowly pushed back her sleeve.
The scar was small.
A curved white mark just above the pulse point.
Andrew’s stomach turned.
Rachel had gotten the scar nine years earlier after knocking a glass lantern off a patio table during a summer storm. A broken piece had sliced her wrist.
Andrew had driven her to urgent care.
He remembered holding her hand while the doctor stitched it.
He remembered Rachel joking that at least the scar looked like a crescent moon.
The maid’s scar was in the exact same place.
The exact same shape.
Andrew’s mouth went dry.
“How did you get that?”
Mara stared at the floor.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“I woke up with it.”
Andrew stopped breathing.
Evan tightened his arms around her.
“Daddy, don’t yell at her.”
“I’m not yelling.”
“You look like you’re going to.”
Andrew looked at his son.
Evan had Rachel’s eyes.
Gray-green.
The same eyes now staring at him from beneath wet lashes.
Ben spoke quietly.
“She wakes up scared.”
Mara stiffened.
Andrew’s gaze returned to her.
“What does he mean?”
“Nothing.”
Ben disagreed.
“She sleeps in the little room by the laundry room, and sometimes she screams.”
“Ben,” Mara whispered.
“You do.”
The boy looked at his father.
“She says somebody is locking a door.”
Mara closed her eyes.
Andrew felt the room narrowing around him.
“Tell me.”
“There is nothing to tell.”
“You know that song.”
“I don’t know why.”
“You have my wife’s scar.”
“I don’t know why.”
“My sons say you wake up screaming about a locked door.”
Mara’s voice broke.
“I don’t know why.”
Andrew stared at her.
She looked terrified.
Not caught.
Not guilty.
Terrified.
That frightened him more.
“When did you start working here?”
“Six weeks ago.”
“Who hired you?”
“Mrs. Carter.”
The household manager.
“Before this house?”
“I worked at the Bellmont Hotel.”
“For how long?”
“Almost two years.”
“And before that?”
Mara said nothing.
Andrew waited.
Her eyes filled again.
“I don’t know.”
Evan leaned closer to her.
Andrew felt something crack inside his chest.
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
Mara wiped her cheek.
“Three years ago, I woke up in a hospital outside Albany.”
Andrew’s heartbeat stumbled.
“I had burns on my back. Smoke damage in my lungs. A concussion. No identification.”
“Three years ago?”
“Yes.”
“What month?”
Mara looked at him.
“February.”
Andrew’s legs almost failed him.
Rachel had died February 17.
Three years ago.
Andrew reached for the back of a dining chair.
“What hospital?”
“St. Catherine’s Recovery Center.”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“It closed last year.”
“Who brought you there?”
“I don’t know.”
“Doctors?”
“I remember nurses. A psychiatrist. A man who said I’d been found beside a highway.”
“What man?”
“Dr. Hale.”
A glass shattered somewhere behind Andrew.
Everyone turned.
Victoria stood in the hallway.
Her face had lost all color.
A champagne glass lay broken at her feet.
Andrew stared at her.
Victoria stared at Mara.
And for the first time since entering the room, Mara screamed.
She stumbled backward so violently she hit the table.
“No!”
Evan and Ben cried out.
Andrew crossed the room.
“Mara!”
She backed away from Victoria.
“No, no, no.”
“What is it?”
Mara pressed both hands against her temples.
“I know that name.”
Victoria’s lips parted.
Andrew looked between them.
“Hale?”
Mara was shaking.
“Dr. Samuel Hale.”
Victoria’s father.
The man who had died eighteen months earlier.
Andrew felt ice spread through his veins.
Victoria recovered first.
“My father treated hundreds of patients.”
Mara looked at her.
“I remember your voice.”
Victoria froze.
Andrew stepped toward her.
“What did she say?”
Mara’s breathing became shallow.
“I don’t know.”
“Mara.”
“I hear things sometimes. Pieces.”
“What pieces?”
She squeezed her eyes shut.
“A door closing.”
Andrew waited.
“A woman crying.”
Her voice dropped.
“Someone saying I should have stayed in the house.”
Victoria turned.
“That is enough.”
Andrew blocked her path.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
Her face hardened.
“You have no right to detain me.”
“You’re standing in my home while a woman who may be my dead wife says she recognizes your voice from a private medical facility run by your father.”
“She is not Rachel.”
Andrew flinched.
Victoria realized her mistake.
No one had said Rachel’s name.
Not once.
Mara had been introduced to the household only as Mara Lewis.
Andrew had never discussed Rachel with the staff.
The boys called her “Mommy.”
But neither child had spoken their mother’s name tonight.
Andrew stared at Victoria.
“How did you know who I was thinking she might be?”
Victoria’s mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
Mara looked at Andrew.
Then at Victoria.
And suddenly her expression changed.
It was not recognition.
It was terror.
A memory had arrived.
Mara grabbed the edge of the table.
“Blue.”
Andrew moved closer.
“What?”
Mara stared at Victoria’s dress.
“Blue silk.”
Victoria looked down.
Mara began crying.
“I remember blue silk.”
Victoria backed toward the hall.
Andrew caught her wrist.
“Stay.”
“Let go of me.”
“What does she remember?”
“I don’t know!”
Mara’s knees nearly gave out.
Andrew released Victoria and caught Mara instead.
The instant his hands touched her shoulders, Mara looked into his eyes.
The room vanished for Andrew.
Because Rachel used to look at him exactly like that when she was trying not to cry.
“Mara?”
She whispered one word.
“Andy.”
Andrew stopped breathing.
Nobody called him Andy.
Nobody except Rachel.
His wife had called him Andy from their first date until the night she died.
Mara covered her mouth as though horrified by what she had said.
Andrew stepped back.
Victoria ran.
Andrew heard her heels racing down the corridor.
“Dad!” Evan shouted.
Andrew turned.
“Stay here.”
He pulled out his phone.
His head of security answered immediately.
“Mr. Calloway?”
“Lock the gates.”
“Sir?”
“No vehicle leaves this property.”
Mara stared at him.
“What are you doing?”
Andrew looked at her.
“I’m finding out who you are.”
“You already think you know.”
“No.”
His voice broke.
“I’m afraid I know.”
Ben walked between them.
He reached for Mara’s hand with one hand and Andrew’s with the other.
Then he pressed their palms together.
“You both shake the same way.”
Andrew nearly laughed.
Instead, his eyes burned.
Mara looked down at their joined hands.
Her wedding finger was bare.
But there was a faint white line around it.
A place where a ring had once been.
Andrew saw it.
So did Mara.
Her breathing stopped.
A flash crossed her face.
Fire.
Smoke.
A bedroom window.
Someone screaming.
A hand tearing a wedding ring from her finger.
Then a woman’s voice.
He’ll believe you’re dead.
Mara collapsed.
Andrew caught her before she hit the floor.
And as he lowered her into his arms, she whispered against his chest:
“She took my ring.”
Andrew looked toward the empty hallway.
For the first time in three years, grief disappeared.
Something colder replaced it.
Because if Mara was Rachel, then his wife had not died in an accident.
May you like
Someone had stolen her life.
And Andrew had just watched that person run upstairs.
