The Maid Was Humiliated at Her Mother’s Grave—Then the Real Father of Her Baby Walked In

Bianca's palm hit Mara across the face hard enough to knock her into the wet grass beside her mother's grave.

For one second, Mara heard nothing but rain.

Then pain flashed through her cheek, and her body moved before her mind did. She curled both arms over her stomach.

"Don't touch me again," she gasped.

Bianca Harrow stood over her in a cream-colored coat that probably cost more than Mara made in three months. Rain darkened the shoulders. Her blond hair stuck to her face. In one hand, she held a plastic pregnancy test sealed inside a sandwich bag.

"You think you can sleep with my husband and then hide behind a dead woman?" Bianca snapped.

Mara stared at the test. "You went through my room?"

"I own the house. I pay you."

"You don't own me."

Bianca laughed once, sharp and ugly. "Then tell me whose baby it is."

Mara pushed herself up against the headstone. Her mother's name, LUCILLE ELLIS, was cold beneath her fingers.

Three months earlier, after the worst night of Mara's life, she had met a bruised, exhausted stranger at a twenty-four-hour diner. She was grieving and too tired to pretend she was okay. They talked until sunrise. One reckless night followed.

She knew his first name.

Ethan.

That was all.

"It isn't Nolan's," Mara said.

Bianca's eyes narrowed. "Liar."

"Your husband has never touched me."

"He looks at you."

"That isn't my fault."

Bianca grabbed Mara's arm. "You are going to tell Nolan that baby is someone else's, and then you're going to disappear."

"It is someone else's."

"Who?"

Mara hesitated.

Bianca squeezed harder.

"Let go of her."

The voice came from the cemetery gate.

Mara stopped breathing.

A tall man stood beneath the stone arch, rain running from his dark hair to the collar of a black jacket. His face was leaner than she remembered. There was a pale scar near his temple that had not been there that night.

But the voice was the same.

So were the eyes.

Ethan.

Bianca released Mara as if she had been burned.

Her face drained of color.

"No," Bianca whispered.

The man walked toward them, slow and steady.

Mara rose, one hand still over her stomach. "Ethan?"

His gaze moved to her belly, then back to her face.

Something in him cracked.

"Mara," he said softly.

Bianca took a step backward.