The hospital called me before midnight — but my mother's reaction told me the truth was far worse than the news.

They took me to the station instead of the motel.

For two hours they left me in a room with beige walls and a clock that ticked way too loud. Then Marsh came in and told me Daniel had asked to talk to me.

"You're not obligated," he said. "You shouldn't feel like you have to—"

"I'll do it."

He studied me for a second. "There'll be glass between you. Officers in the room. You walk out the moment you want to."

I nodded.

Daniel looked thinner than I remembered. His blond hair was buzzed down close to his scalp. His face was bruised, but not badly. He wore the orange jumpsuit like it personally offended him. Even through the glass, he still had that old arrogance around him — that unshakable belief that the whole world had simply failed to understand him.

When he saw me, he smiled. Not warmly. Like he owned something.

"Em," he said into the phone.

I sat down and picked up the receiver on my side. "Don't call me that."

His smile stretched wider. "You look exhausted."

"You hurt our son."

Something flickered across his face. Then he leaned back in his chair. "Our son," he repeated. "That's cute."

"He is your son, Daniel."

His eyes sharpened. "Is he, though?"

"The test—"

He laughed, soft and low. "Your mother arranged that test."

My blood went cold.

"She told me the truth after the divorce," he said. "Told me she switched the sample. Said you needed stability. Said I owed you, after everything."

My hand tightened on the phone. "She lied to you."

"Did she?"

"Yes."

He tipped his head to one side. "You always were easy to talk into things."

I made myself sit still. "What did Ethan see?"

The smile drained off his face. And for the first time, I saw fear on him. Not guilt. Fear.

"You have no idea what your family really is," he said.

"My family?"

"You think this started with Diane?" He leaned toward the glass. "Your grandfather built that room. Your mother kept it running all these years. Chloe clawed her way in because she was sick of being a nobody. And you—"

He smiled again, slow.

"You were supposed to be the next one."

I stared at him. "What are you talking about?"

"Why do you think Diane pushed you at me so hard? Why do you think she paid for the whole wedding? Why do you think she handled the paternity test, the down payment on the house, the divorce lawyer?" He shook his head. "She wasn't protecting you, Rachel. She was placing you."

My pulse was pounding in my ears. "No."

"She had plans for you."

"You're lying."

"Ask her about the red book."

I went absolutely still.

He saw it. "Oh," he said. "You do remember."

I did. Not clearly. Not enough.

A red leather book, locked in the drawer of my mother's nightstand. I'd seen it exactly once, when I was eleven. Chloe dared me to open the drawer while our mother was at the grocery store. Inside were envelopes, old photographs, and that book. I'd barely gotten my fingers on it when my mother appeared in the bedroom doorway.

I remembered the slap. I remembered the taste of blood on my teeth. I remembered her leaning down close to my ear and whispering:

Never open what belongs to you before it's given to you.

Before it's given to you.

My throat closed up. "What was in it?"

Daniel's smile disappeared completely. "Insurance."

"Against who?"

He glanced over his shoulder, even though there was nobody back there but a guard. Then he dropped his voice.

"Against the people above her."

The people above her. A cold pressure spread through my chest.

"This isn't just my mother," I whispered.

Daniel looked at me through the glass. "No, Rachel. Your mother's small. Loud, mean, useful — but small."

"Then who?"

He leaned in close. "I'll tell you where the red book is."

"Why would you do that?"

"Because they're going to kill me."

He said it so plainly that I couldn't say anything back.

His eyes flicked up to the camera in the corner. "I was supposed to be out of Houston before Thanksgiving. Diane got greedy. Chloe got sloppy. Ethan heard too much. I told them to scare him. Not—"

I stood up so fast my chair banged over backward.

His face changed. "No — Rachel, wait—"

"You told them to scare a six-year-old."

"I didn't mean for it to go that far."

"You brought monsters into a room with my child."

And there it was, his own word coming back to me through Ethan's broken little whisper. Monster.

Daniel pressed his palm flat against the glass. "Listen to me. The red book isn't at the house. Diane moved it years ago."

I lifted the receiver back to my ear. "Where?"

His voice went very quiet. "In your apartment."

My blood turned to ice.