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“I’m talking about that forehead,” I quip. “You could sell ad space on that thing.”

He laughs. “I walked into that one.”

“Said your forehead.”

He glares at me with pouting lips as I turn back to my computer. Pages and pages of transactions and statement balances wait for me. It’s going to be a long day and I’ve already hit my five cups of coffee limit that’s not actually a limit.

My scroll finger stops dead.

“Boston Bio?” I read.

Trevor looks up. “What?”

I blink. “Nothing, just thinking out loud.”

A large four-figure deposit stands out between trips to a grocery store. Boston Bio. A fertility clinic. Coincidentally, the same clinic I used to help conceive Charlotte.

What the hell was Milo doing at a fertility clinic — I check the date — five years ago?

My stomach turns over.

Oh, no.

I click over to his mugshot again, slamming the mouse button down hard as if it will make it happen faster.

No, no, no.

I zoom in on his eyes. Those gorgeous multicolored eyes. Brown irises with spikes of bright blue shooting out from his pupils.

I grab my phone, quickly swiping it on to see the photo of Charlotte on my home screen.

Brown-hair. Dimples. Cleft chin.

This isn’t possible.

There was a profile. Donor #7134-C. I chose the sperm of a tall, dark, and handsome lawyer. Milo fits the first part, but he’s miles away from the second. I saw a photo of the donor. That guy was literally James Bond by way of Chris Evans. He had a dalmatian puppy. It wasn’t Milo. It isn’t Milo.

I look between their photos again, feeling that same dread fill to the edges of my gut.

Oh, no.

CHAPTER 10

MILO

Iyawn. Not much else I can do in here.

I can barely even sleep. The sun pours in from the window above my cot and the city sounds aren’t exactly soothing. I’ve been stuck in this jail cell for hours now. Maybe I should have attempted to make more friends. They could have paid my bail. Can murder suspects even get bail?

I hear the outer doors open and somebody wanders in slowly. The sound echoes all around me, but I ignore it in favor of just a few more seconds of peace.

“Hey, Milo.”

I jolt upward and look over to see her standing behind the bars.

“Anna,” I say.

“Detective.” Her throat clears. “I need to ask you something.”