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At least she took her car. A few weeks ago, I had Sawyer plant a tracking device on her sedan.

Nova is getting too far ahead of me, but Sawyer is with us and keeps up with Nova to make sure that she doesn’t run across the street on her own or run off.

“Thank you for letting me know,” I say before ending the call.

I open the tracking app on my phone to determine Paige’s most recent location. It turns out that she’s not far from here.

“How about we grab some lunch?” I say to Nova, leading her toward the café a few blocks away.

Nova gives a slight shrug and a nod.

“Afterwards, we can have ice cream.” I glance at her as we walk along the sidewalk.

Her smile is tight-lipped and her cheeks rosy, but the silence is deafening. I want her to talk to me again, giggle and laugh, sing songs like she used to with her mother.

While I recognize Serene is gone and those moments are in the past, I can’t help but miss the little girl full of life and brightness.

Vance and the DeLuca’s robbed my daughter of her innocence. A four-year-old shouldn’t have to witness their nanny gunned down or a funeral for their mother, all within the same week.

I groan.

Nova squeezes my hand and glances up at me.

More silence pulls at my heart. I want her to trust me, confide in me, and talk to me.

Dante and Nikki were right in pushing me to take her to a child psychologist. I shouldn’t have lied, pretended Paige was my wife, and everything was sunshine and rainbows.

I’m a monster.

I’ve hurt Nova.

Forgiveness isn’t in my blood.

Is it in hers?

We cross the street, and I open the door to the café.

Paige hands her credit card to the waitress, and her gaze lands directly on me.

The smile fades from her face.

Good.

Nova spots Paige and drops my hand, rushing over to hug her.

I won’t lie. It hurts that my kid lights up like a kid on Christmas morning at the first sign of Paige.

I want Nova to look at me like that, with such admiration.

Hell, I want Paige to look at me like that.

“Paige!” Nova squeals.

Damn.

Could this day get any worse?

My footsteps aren’t the least bit light as I approach their table.


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