A woman hides the child she conceived with a comatose mafia don, raising the baby alone in secret. Years later, the powerful father wakes and discovers the truth, forcing a collision between the family she built and the dangerous world he belongs to.
Yeah, I was jealous of her. Not because she had Shane, because she had Mom. Mom had always loved her most. And hated me most. I drove home with Serena's handprint still on my face. My car broke down on the way. I took off my jacket, crawled underneath it, and started fixing it myself.
Mrs. Hart. A familiar voice came from behind me. My hand froze around the wrench. I awkwardly wriggled out from under the car, hair everywhere. Shane stood there, expression cool. I put the wrench back in my toolbox, wiped my hands, and greeted him awkwardly.
Uh, Don Whitworth. He frowned slightly. Just call me Shane. Why didn't you call roadside assistance?
I'm broke. I answered honestly. Painting and holding exhibitions were expensive, but Mom had cut off my money so Serena could boss me around with money.
I'll fix it soon. You can go. Shane didn't answer. He just called a tow truck. Then he hung up and looked at me. Wait in my car.
Thanks, but I'm fine here. I was afraid the little monster would start clinging to me again. Shane seemed to understand. He opened the door.
Get in. Charlie's asleep. The little girl slept soundly in her car seat under a cream blanket. I quietly climbed into the back seat, so her name was Charlie. I'd raised her for three years and called her Charlotte.
Charlotte? The kid didn't care what I called her, though. I could make a few clicking sounds or tap a spoon on a bowl, and she'd happily come running.
Out of habit, I touched her hair.