Tiffany’s parents lived in Florida. They’d been making noise about their granddaughter for months, questioning whether Tiffany was fit to be a mother. They weren’t entirely wrong. And now they were circling closer.

The borrowed baby situation had an expiration date. I just didn’t know exactly when that clock would run out.

Everything was about to get very complicated—the test, the lies, the family that already hated me, and now this.

I took a deep breath, picked up Rosie, and headed for the door. Whatever happened at this dinner, one thing was certain: Patricia Whitmore had no idea who she was dealing with.

And by the end of the night, she would find out exactly how badly she’d underestimated me.

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Now, back to what happened at that dinner.

The Whitmore House wasn’t a house. It was a statement—a declaration of wealth that started at the iron gates and screamed louder with every inch of the circular driveway. By the time Graham parked his car and I got a good look at the three-story colonial mansion with its perfectly manicured hedges and fountain—yes, an actual fountain—I understood exactly what kind of family I was dealing with.

The foyer had a chandelier bigger than my first car. Actually, bigger than my first and second car combined. The floors were marble. The walls had actual paintings in actual frames, the kind that look like they belong in museums.

I was afraid to breathe on anything.

Graham squeezed my hand as we walked in. “They’re going to love you,” he said.

He was lying. He had to know he was lying, but I appreciated the effort.

Patricia Whitmore answered the door herself, which I later learned was unusual. She normally had help for that, but she wanted to see me first—to assess the threat before anyone else could form an opinion.

“So, this is the girlfriend,” she said, her eyes doing that slow scan I mentioned. Sweater. Flats. Baby. Each item judged and found wanting.

“Mom,” Graham said, a warning in his voice. “This is Bethany, and this is Rosie.”

“Charming,” Patricia said in a tone that suggested she found nothing charming about any of it. “Do come in. Try not to let the baby touch anything.”

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