Chapter 1

The morning I went to visit my son's grave, a woman I'd never seen before was kneeling at his headstone.

My breath caught.

Her profile. The slope of her nose, the set of her brows... Every line on that face belonged to my dead son.

"Sorry, baby. Mama's late." She said.

"Thirty years ago, you were born with the liver disease I passed on to you. I had no choice but to... swap you for a healthy child."

"Please don't blame me. I had no money to treat you."

"Look at your adoptive parents. Rich as they were, they still sold their house for your liver cancer. Every penny. Gone."

My mouth opened. "You... you monster—"

The rest of my voice was swallowed up. She rushed at me and shoved me into the lake.

"You shouldn't have come. Now you know. So die."

"Go in peace. Your child will take my son's place. He'll be a good, dutiful boy for us."

Water closed over my face. Then it all went dark.

When I opened my eyes again. I saw a ceiling. Fluorescent tubes buzzing.

My lower belly cramped, hard, like someone was wringing a wet towel inside me.

This was thirty years ago. The night I gave birth.

I turned my head. Greg sat in the chair beside me. Young. Not yet crushed to death by the mountain of medical bills.

That woman's face flashed through my mind. Her voice, still ringing: swap you for a healthy child.

I grabbed Greg's hand instantly.

"Greg, I'm not delivering here. Take me to another hospital."

...

Greg's head snapped up.

"Another hospitals? Now? Honey, you're four centimeters dilated."

"I know. But I have to."

In my first life, I delivered a healthy boy in this room. But a year later, a doctor found his liver disease.

After that, we chased doctors. We sold the house. Drained every account. Thirty years of paychecks, gone.

Then Greg.

He worked himself to death. All of it for the son of the woman who stole ours.

At this hospital. On this night.

And here I am again.

"Nora? Nora?"

Greg's hand passed in front of my eyes. I blinked. "What?"

"I'm just saying, it's the middle of the night. Nothing's running out there. The nearest hospital is twenty miles away..."

He leaned forward, took my hand. His palm was sweating. "Switching hospitals is too dangerous. For both of you."

I didn't care. I knew what was waiting here.

Bleeding on the road was better.

I grabbed the side rail and swung my legs off the bed. The linoleum shocked cold through my bare feet.

"Then we go downstairs and wait for a ride."

"Honey—"

"I am not having this baby here."

Greg opened his mouth. Closed it.

He looked at me, eyes soft the way they'd always been. Then he grabbed my coat off the chair and helped me into it.

Two steps into the hallway, a nurse blocked my path.

Donna. Short. Square shoulders. Clipboard pressed flat against her chest.

"Where do you think you're going? You're next for the delivery room."

A contraction hit. I grabbed Greg's arm. My nails dug through his sleeve.

"I'm switching hospitals."

"What?" Her face darkened. She turned to the chart.

"The bed is prepped. You're in active early labor."

Her voice dropped into that tone. Calm. Firm. The voice you use on someone who isn't thinking straight.

"You can't just wander off."

I looked at her face. The set of her jaw. The way her eyes stayed on my belly.

I couldn't tell if she was worried about my baby, or about losing it.

There's no way that woman swapped my baby in a hospital all by herself. She had help. Absolutely.

My fingers dug harder into Greg's arm.

"Take me to another hospital."