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Prologue
Denver, Colorado, three months ago.
The offer was a good one. I knew that. Move to Tennessee and continue to look after and care for a young boy named Samuel Savage or stay in Denver and start all over again. I’d been Samuel’s nanny for over a year now and loved that little boy to pieces. He was the sweetest child besides my nieces.
I adored kids and always dreamed of having one of my own one day, but that didn’t look to be in the cards for me. Not that I was resisting anything. It was more of the fact that the men I dated only wanted one thing, and when they realized that would not happen one hour after meeting me, I never heard from them again.
Yeah… Mom raised me better than that.
I loved living in Denver. I loved everything about Denver. Mainly, I loved that my sister Davy was ten minutes away and I could visit with her and spoil my nieces rotten. When Mom died, it decimated the both of us, but we held tight to each other as life moved on. It was strange walking into my childhood home and not seeing mom there smiling and happy, but Davy was there and so were the girls. I could have stayed at my family home if I wanted to, but I didn’t want to intrude on Davy’s marriage.
Davy being the first born meant she got it all.
I was the spare.
Growing up, I knew I would always come second to Davy. Not that I minded, not one bit. What Davy had to deal with every day was exhausting. The thought of being in her shoes for one day gave me hives. So yeah, I was happy being second born and second to Davy. At least I had some kind of life. Davy never really did. So, when Mom passed, the house went to Davy. Everything went to her. I still had my trust and the money I made from being a nanny, but everything else went to my sister. I didn’t balk or complain. I loved my sister and didn’t envy her one bit.
I didn’t come from a normal family like most people did. From an early age, I knew my mom was different. That everything we had growing up wasn’t from dad but from mom. For the longest time, I never understood why dad had another name than Davy and me. It wasn’t until dad died when I was ten that I learned the truth.
It was because I was a Duchene.
The great-granddaughter of Victoria Marguerite Duchene and that the Duchene name held prestige. When I fully understood what that meant, it was of no surprise to my mom when I was going away to college that I asked to change my last name to my father’s. I wasn’t being disrespectful. I just wanted a normal life, whatever that meant. So, before I headed off to college, I became Linsey Adams. The daughter of Jerome Adams and his wife, Vivienne.
I wish I could say being an Adams was better than being a Duchene, but I wouldn’t know. It seemed it still plagued me with the same problems, trials and doubts.
Only now, I had a whole new set of them.
Do I stay or go?
I was being asked to continue to care for Samuel at three times the pay, with a fresh start in the state of Tennessee. Had to admit, the thought of starting over did intrigue me. No one would know who I was or who my mother was. Plus, I’ve always loved the Smoky Mountains. I remembered when mom would pack Davy and me up and we’d head out on one of our many adventures.
God, mom loved camping.
Me, not so much.
This new adventure would give me the opportunity to start over and possibly meet some new people. When I mentioned all this to Davy a few weeks ago, she encouraged me to go for it, that we would still see each other, just not as often. She told me I deserved my own life, and she was right. The more I thought about it, the more I agreed. I hated the idea of not seeing my sister or nieces, but I couldn’t pass up this opportunity.
I would never be the real Duchene. I accepted that many years ago, but I deserved to find my own happiness. Wherever that was. I knew if I stayed in Denver, everyone would know me as the spare. The woman with the same name but not any of the perks.
Nope, my life was my own, and I needed a change.
With my mind made up, I jumped in my car and headed over to my sister’s. I knew she would be up. Davy never fell asleep before one in the morning. I could have waited to tell her, but she would want to know immediately.
Plus, if I hurried, I could kiss my nieces goodnight.
I saw the lights before I even turned the corner.
Slowing my car to a stop, I sat and stared in shock when I saw several police officers pushing back the news reporters as they clamored for information, as paramedics rushed into the house. Moments later, I watched as two officers escorted Davy’s husband from the house in handcuffs, then placed him in a squad car. What shocked me was the blood covering him. Blood coated him from head to toe.
Getting out of my vehicle, I raced toward the house, only to be stopped immediately by an officer.
“Miss, you can’t go in there,” he said, holding me back as I struggled to get past him.
“That’s my sister’s house!” I screamed, drawing the attention of a plain clothed officer and a few of the reporters who rushed towards me, asking questions I didn’t have the answers to. The officer pushed through the crowd, wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and hurriedly ushered me past the throngs of reporters. “Where is Davy?”
“Your name?”
“Linsey. Linsey Adams. Where is my sister? Where are the girls?”
