I raised my stiff hand and tapped the last recording, desperate to hear her voice, to pretend she was still beside me.
But the voice that came through wasn't my daughter's. It was Mabel's breathy moan.
"Baby, thank God Amber's such an idiot. She got so wasted she didn't even realize she signed her own daughter's heart transplant consent form."
What did that mean?
My legs buckled. I collapsed to the floor, gasping for air, my eyes locked on the speaker.
It came flooding back. A week ago, Mabel had come to me with a glass of wine, wanting to talk. She kept pouring, glass after glass, until my head was swimming and she guided my hand across a piece of paper to sign my name.
I was the one who killed my daughter.
My hands shook violently. The speaker slipped from my grip and hit the floor. I pressed my palms over my ears, choking on the pain.
"I'd give up everything for you and our baby. Amber means nothing. I only want you two. At least her daughter's heart is good for something..."
Then came Guy's ragged panting.
I had believed I'd found my way into his heart. Only now did I understand that the person he would give up everything for had never been me.