Until Eden appeared, her face chalky. “He beat the odds,” she whispered.
I stepped forward, too afraid to hope. “What does that mean?”
“It means he’s a perfect match.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Adriana
Tethered.
That was the only way to describe the feeling. Suspended in a quiet, private space high above the world. Like a hot air balloon still anchored to the ground. I looked down as the world still went on without me, but I remained tethered by a cord.
Beeps and voices hummed below me, but where I floated, it was peaceful. I glanced down at the rope holding me down and wondered what would happen if I cut it. Where would I go? Would I come back?
Maybe I didn’t want to. Up here, the air was clear. I could breathe. I didn’t cough. I didn’t shake. I wasn’t cold. I wasn’t tired. I wasn’t sick.
“Pretty, isn’t it?”
I spun around to see a dark-haired woman in a white flowing dress and familiar, warm, chocolate eyes dotted with gold. I’d seen her before. Not here, but in a dream.
“Mamá? How’d you get here?”
She laughed, the soft, lyrical sound of her voice carried by the breeze. “I’ve always been with you, cariño.
“Where am I?”
“Your safe place. This is where you keep all your memories.”
I shook my head, and it suddenly felt heavy. “I can’t remember any.”
She lifted a hand, brushing my hair back. “Yes, you do.”
Guadalajara, Jalisco, Mexico
Fifteen years ago
I twisted my fingers together while standing outside papá’s office. I knew he was busy, and it was forbidden, but the sound drew me near.
“Marisol, did you get lost again?”
Click clack click clack click clack.
I peeked into the office, keeping my eyes on the ground. “No, sir.”
“Come in here.”
The invitation filled me with anxiety, yet my feet moved without my permission, and I stepped into the dark office, the sweet leather scent of rain-soaked earth filling my nose. Papá sat at his desk, a lit cigar between his fingers as a row of silver balls hanging from wires clacked together.
Back and forth.
“What’s that?” I heard myself whisper.
“A pendulum.”
“What is it for?”
“It’s a reminder that nothing is stationary. Any situation can fluctuate from one extreme to the other at any given time. One must always prepare for the unexpected and never become complacent, Marisol.”
I didn’t know what most of that stuff meant, but it sounded scary. I didn’t think I ever wanted a pendulum. “Does it ever stop?”
He leaned forward, taking a long puff off the end of his cigar. “You should hope not, pequeña. The moment the pendulum stops clicking, the clock starts ticking.”
I giggled. “That rhymes!”
A cold smile split across his mouth. One that never reached his eyes and sent a shiver down my spine. “You laugh like your mother. The voice of an angel spoken by the lips of the devil.”
I frowned. “But mamá never laughs.”
His gaze shifted back to the pendulum. “No, pequeña. She can’t. Not anymore.”
Houston, Texas
One Year Ago
“Hello, Val.”
His dark eyebrows bunched together. “Do I know you?”
“Probably not. But I’ve studied you for a while now, and I think I understand you more than most anyone.”
“I doubt that,” he shot back with full conviction.
Stepping out of the shadows, I ran a hand through my long hair, and he immediately took a step back.
“I’m the one who ordered the hit on your new girlfriend’s brother.” I smiled and moved closer. “I’m the one who’s been tracking you, turning all your allies against you.” I pounded my chest with my palm. “I’m the one who watched you long enough to know you had such a hard-on for your own lieutenant’s bartender that it was just a matter of time before you fucked up.”
“Oh my God,” Eden croaked, her voice hushed and strained from Manuel’s restrictive hold. “It’s you. You’re the woman from the bar. You were sitting at the end the night Val came in. I remember because…because it was the night Nash was killed.”
I pulled my hair to the side and tucked it behind my ear. “Marisol. Marisol Muñoz.”
“Muñoz?”
“Yes, Valentin…Muñoz. As in Manuel’s sister and Esteban’s daughter. I’ve been away for many years while you’ve been in America. Too bad we won’t be getting better acquainted.”
Guadalajara, Jalisco, Mexico
One year ago
“No!” I stumbled backward toward the bookshelf. “It’s not true!”
Cristiano sat on the couch, sympathy etching in the lines drawn across his face. “I’m sorry, Mari. It is.”
But I didn’t want his sympathy. I wanted him to take it all back. I wanted him to tell me it was all a lie.
“How do you know? He’s in with the Carreras! He could be lying!”
He clasped his hands in front of him. “Brody Harcourt got the information from Leo Pinellas. I verified it myself. The birth certificate is authentic, and so are the blood records. Esteban and Carmen both have type A blood. You are AB. They can only produce children with type A or O. Adriana Carrera was born with Type 1 Juvenile Diabetes. The same thing that forced your transplant at age fourteen. Did you never wonder why your parents weren’t matches? Or Manuel for that matter?”
I heard every word he said, but I didn’t want to believe it. “They told me sometimes that happens.”
The corners of his mouth turned down, and he sighed. “Mari…”
“Why?” I screamed, ripping a book from the shelf and throwing it at him. “Why would they do this to me?”
He averted his eyes. “I don’t know.”
The cry that tore from my throat didn’t sound human. I didn’t feel myself falling until I hit the floor. “I can’t be a Carrera. I can’t!”
Present Day
I blinked, the visions fading as if they’d never been there. “I’m so sorry I never got to know you. I’m sorry I grew up hating you, and for turning into such a selfish, vile woman. You must be so ashamed of me.”
“Cariño, none of what happened was your fault. We live the life we are given. A child cannot be faulted for not seeking the truth when lies are all she knows. I’m not ashamed of you. You gave your life to save my grandson, Adriana. That’s the most selfless gift a person can give.”
I gave my life?
I looked again at her flowing white gown and glanced down at the tether. I couldn’t breathe as I spun around. “Am I dead?”
“That’s up to you. However, I believe someone is waiting for you down there.”
The tether grew slack. “I don’t know what to do.”