“Quick, we need to hide her.

He knows she is alive,” my mother Gina said—her voice hoarse, and her hands which rested on my head trembled.

“What do you mean, he knows Gina?

We have kept her hidden for so long.

How can he find her now?

I made sure not to leave any traces at her birth.

I made sure he believed she was dead, and I knew he did.

So how did he find her?” a masculine voice growled beside me.

He sounded familiar—so very familiar yet distant.

I turned to face him.

His face blurry, and I could barely make out his features.

I squinted my eyes,...