Chapter 2

When I met Ethan, he had nothing.

He was 24.

The lowest-ranking warehouse manager at a flower import company.

I dropped out of grad school to start a business with him.

At first, all we had was one used refrigerated truck.

We called on hotel clients during the day.

At night, we drove to the airport to pick up the flowers ourselves.

We called the company Midsummer because Ethan first told me he loved me in July.

He'd made me a promise back then. "Once we make it, I'm going to build you a rose garden that never dies."

And the company really did take off.

We did flowers for hotels.

Weddings.

Then import logistics.

Four years ago, our biggest client suddenly pulled out of their contract.

Then the bank called in our loan.

Money got tighter every day.

I was eight months pregnant and still meeting with creditors every single day.

The day it happened, I finally got one of them to agree to an extension.

I called Ethan.

No answer.

But Olivia texted me.

[Ethan's waiting for you at the old clinic warehouse.]

[He says there are some important papers he needs you to sign.]

I didn't suspect a thing.

She was Ethan's most trusted secretary.

He'd waived the usual requirements to hire her six months earlier.

I'd even bought her a birthday cake.

Ethan wasn't at the old clinic.

There were only three men.

And Olivia.

She stood in the doorway.

"Mara.

"You really are in the way."

That was when I realized something was wrong.

I don't want to relive everything that happened after that.

All I remember is waking up strapped to an operating table.

They weren't there just to kill me.

They were part of a ring that trafficked in organs and identity documents.

Olivia handed me over to them in exchange for cash and the money the company needed to make it through the crisis.

She looked at me.

"Aren't you always saying you'd do anything for Ethan?

"Then help him out one last time."

I never made it out of that building alive.

Four years later, the homicide unit finally tied the old clinic to several other missing persons cases.

Caleb didn't go home for three days straight.

Rachel's report was coming together.

Age.

Height.

Old fractures.

Dental records.

And finally, DNA.

The day the results came back, Caleb sat alone in his office for a long time.

The printer spit out the last page.

[Probability of kinship: 99.99%.]

His hands were shaking so hard he couldn't hold the paper.

"Mara?"

The first time.

For the first time in four years, someone had said my name like that.

Not "the woman who ran off with the money."

Not "a disgrace to our family."

Just Mara.

Caleb ran to the ME's office.

He pulled out the evidence bags one by one.

My wedding ring was bent out of shape.

Only the chain was left of the necklace I'd planned to have remade into a keepsake pendant for the baby.

And a small piece of a burned leather card holder.

Inside was a prenatal appointment card from the hospital.

Caleb crouched down on the floor.

He didn't get up for a long time.

He called our parents.

All he said was, "We found Mara."

My mother's first question was, "Is she back?"

Caleb closed his eyes.

"No.

"She died four years ago."

There was nothing but silence on the other end.