“My mother kept proof,” Celeste said. “Because she knew Jonathan Ashford would bury anything that made him look weak.”
My mother shook her head. “We saw his body.”
Celeste’s eyes sharpened. “You saw a child. Burned by saltwater and time. Wearing Nathaniel’s clothes.”
The warehouse seemed to tilt.
I could not breathe.
“Then where is he?” I whispered.
Celeste’s smile changed.
Less triumphant.
More cruel.
“That is the part you should ask your father’s friends.”
My father whispered a name.
“Calloway.”
Celeste’s face lit with satisfaction.
“Very good.”
Mara stepped beside my mother. “Senator Thomas Calloway?”
Celeste clapped once, softly. “The honorable senator. Former Black Harbor investor. Family friend. Godfather to Nathaniel Ashford.”
I remembered Senator Calloway.
White hair. Warm smile. Christmas cards. A hand on my shoulder at charity dinners. He always called me “little dove.”
My stomach turned.
Celeste walked toward Samuel’s bassinet. “Calloway took the boy from St. Agnes before your father could find him. Black Harbor needed insurance. An Ashford child was perfect.”
