My five-year-old son slipped his hand out of mine and ran across the polished teak deck.
“Mommy! Dolphins!”
His little voice carried over the music and conversation.
Then Alexander Vale turned around.
The champagne glass fell from his hand.
It shattered near his shoes.
He wasn’t looking at me.
He was staring at Liam.
Same dark hair.
Same gray-blue eyes.
And the same tiny scar cutting through the left eyebrow.
A mark that ran in the Vale family.
A mark Alexander himself had inherited from his father.
For a moment, he looked as if the air had been knocked from his lungs.
“Claire?”
I had imagined seeing my ex-husband again for five years.
I never imagined our reunion would happen aboard a two-hundred-foot yacht in Monaco, surrounded by the same family that had helped destroy our marriage.
Before I could answer, a woman stepped between us.
Vanessa Vale.
