Chapter 4

Late in the night, Quinn felt someone climb into bed beside her.

A hand settled over her waist. Warm breath skimmed her neck, and his voice carried something close to remorse. "Does your face still hurt?"

"I'm sorry, Quinn. I only lost my temper for a moment. Serena nearly died delivering Noah — it wasn't easy for that boy to survive. I can't stand watching him get hurt..."

Could Abby get hurt, then?

Abby had been sick her whole short life, frail and fragile from birth, yet whenever she needed an injection she would twist around on the table and look up at them with those enormous eyes. Don't worry, Daddy, Mommy — I won't cry. I'm the best-behaved girl.

She was so good. So careful. When she was kidnapped, she hadn't thrashed or screamed.

Because Holden had taught her: if you ever fall into danger, stay calm and cooperate for now. Don't provoke them.

Because she had heard her mother's voice, and she believed her mother was coming for her.

Every time Quinn thought of this, it felt like a blade turning in her chest.

Holden was still talking. "I've moved them to the west wing. They won't get in your way. Things can go back to how they were between us."

"You miss Abby, don't you? Then let's have another daughter—"

His lips came down toward her.

Quinn was about to push him away when her phone rang.

"What? Noah has a fever?"

There was a rustle of movement behind her. Holden got up quickly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before he left. "I'll be right back. Wait for me."

Before Abby died, he'd always been like this — a phone call and he'd drop everything, disappear without a second thought.

Looking back, she supposed it had always been for Serena and her son.

Once, Quinn would have stayed up all night holding Abby, waiting for him to come home. Now she simply reached over and switched off the lamp.

She was done with that particular brand of foolishness.

Quinn hadn't expected to wake to Holden sitting at the edge of the bed, his expression thunderous.

In his hands was her phone.

Her stomach dropped. Had he found out?

"Quinn." His voice was low and rigid. "I understand Abby's death hit you hard. And I've let it go every time you've taken out your grief on Serena. But this?"

He didn't wait for her to answer. He threw the phone at her face, his eyes burning with compressed fury.

"Leaking the story to a media outlet? Sending Serena and Noah to be torn apart online? I underestimated you. I didn't think you were capable of something this vicious."

Quinn picked up the phone and scrolled quickly through the anonymous tip that had been sent to the gossip account — the one retelling every detail of the kidnapping three years ago. She kept her voice flat. "I didn't do this."

"And even if I had — isn't it the truth?"

Holden's hands were shaking. "Quinn, you never learn."

He took a breath, steadied himself, typed something, and held out the phone. "Post this from your account. If you do, we'll consider it settled."

Quinn looked at the screen.

He wanted her to post a public statement saying that three years ago, the kidnapper's real target had been Abby. That Abby had wandered into trouble on her own, and that Noah was an innocent bystander caught up in it because of her. That rescuing Noah had been the only right thing to do.

Quinn couldn't begin to imagine the abuse that statement would bring down on Abby's name.

Abby was already gone. And Holden was asking her to let strangers desecrate what was left.

She clenched her fist so hard her knuckles went white. When she spoke, it came out almost like a shout. "Never. Try to force me and I'll kill myself right here."

Holden stared at her as if she'd said something incomprehensible. "You're threatening me with your own life? You know exactly how much I—"

"Fine. If you want to be stubborn about it, then kneel in the estate chapel. You stay there until you're ready to clear Serena's name."