“Take your hands off her.”
Alexander Harrington’s voice thundered across the ballroom.
“Now.”
Marcus froze.
His fingers loosened around my arm.
The room became completely silent.
Hundreds of people had been talking only seconds earlier.
Now nobody moved.
Nobody laughed.
Nobody touched their champagne.
Even the string quartet near the stage had stopped playing.
Marcus looked at Alexander.
Then at me.
Then back at Alexander.
“Sir, I was only—”
“Take your hands off her.”
Alexander repeated it more quietly this time.
That was somehow worse.
Marcus released me.
Red fingerprints remained on my skin.
Alexander saw them.
So did Margaret.
The billionaire’s older sister looked as though she had seen a ghost.
She stared at the old necklace hanging against my dress.
Her lips trembled.
Then she whispered one word.
“Amelia.”
I heard it clearly.
I had no idea what it meant.
My name is Sofia Mercer.
I was thirty-three years old.
Until that night, I believed I knew almost everything important about my life.
I knew I had been found after a fire when I was a small child.
I knew I had no memory of my biological parents.
I knew Teresa Alvarez had raised me.
I knew she had loved me.
