“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the fiftieth annual Crystal Ball. Tonight, for the first time, the chairwoman of the Aurora Foundation joins us in person. Please welcome Madame Evelyn Hartwell.”
Gavin’s champagne glass slipped from his fingers and shattered on the marble.
For half a second he did not understand what he had heard.
Hartwell.
His wife’s maiden name was Hartwell.
But that was impossible, because her father had been a mechanic in Ohio who smelled like peppermint and oil and once fixed Gavin’s tire for free.
Then the doors at the top of the staircase opened.
Evelyn appeared.
Pregnant. Poised. Descending in midnight silk that moved like shadowed water, diamonds sparking softly, the sapphire at her throat like a captured ocean. She looked neither furious nor theatrical.
She looked inevitable.
For the first time in years, Gavin felt small.
At the bottom of the stairs, security shifted discreetly into place around her. Beside her stood Benedict Shaw. On the other side stood forensic accountant Martin Hale with a leather folio. Just behind them stood FBI Special Agent Dana Mercer.
Chloe whispered, “Why does she look like your wife but… not like your wife?”