Page 123 of A Sinful Gravity

And what happened? Not only did she not see it, but she'd been planning her killing blow the whole time, ready to sever every connection between us.

And Chloe. My sister, the one I'd relied on my whole life, had never been on my side either. She'd watched me play the fool, performing my terrible impression of "good father" and "good husband" in front of them.

She never thought about how much I was hurting. I was her fucking brother!

No one thought about me. No one thought about what I'd missed, what I'd lost, how much it hurt.

I leaned back against the couch and closed my eyes.

Laila's face flashed through my mind. At the concert, she'd looked at me with eyes brighter than stars. She'd said, "I wish you were my dad."

When she said that, I didn't know she was my child.

Now I knew. But it was too late. She was leaving. Luna was taking her away—to Chicago, New York, LA. Anywhere I couldn't find them.

I clenched my fists. My nails dug into my palms.

I yanked off my hoodie in frustration—the one I'd worn to Laila's concert today. The fabric still carried her scent, that faint milky sweetness mixed with the sugary smell of popcorn.

The hoodie hit the floor with a sharp sound.

I froze. Reached down and felt the pocket. Pulled out something hard.

Laila must've slipped it in when I wasn't looking during the concert.

A cheap plastic pink hair clip with a wobbly plastic pearl stuck on top. Next to it was a crumpled piece of folded paper with a crayon drawing—three figures. On the left, a tall dark silhouette. In the middle, a little person in a dress. On the right, a woman holding the little person's hand.

On the back, in Laila's still-learning spelling, written one careful stroke at a time: "For Cassian. I love you."

I stared at those words. My heart stopped for a beat, then hammered wildly.

I recognized this pink hair clip. It was Laila's most treasured possession. She'd told me she bought it on a London street corner with the allowance she'd saved for half a month, a gift for her "future dad."

My fingertips trembled uncontrollably.

This cheap little plastic thing I normally wouldn't even glance at now burned in my palm.

I suddenly realized. Laila hadn't lied to me.

In this whole mess of lies and games, only her love was pure.

She loved me completely. I'd treated her like my own daughter, and she'd long ago made me her dad.

I remembered once when I picked her up, she'd asked me, "Cassian, what does it mean to love someone?"

The setting sun had cast warm light on her hair.

I'd thought about it. "Loving someone means wanting them to be happy, and wanting to give them that happiness yourself."

She'd giggled. "Mommy said the same thing. You're really smart."

Those words now boomeranged back and hit me. Had I wanted Luna to be happy, or had I wanted me to be happy?

That question threw my thoughts into deeper chaos. Then I heard a sound at the door.

The doorbell rang. Urgent. Loud.

I didn't move. The doorbell kept ringing, then pounding on the door.