Buried Betrayal on Eight Hundred Acres 34

behind his dark eyes—shock, disbelief, and then, a tidal wave of suppressed memory.

But then he does what Nicolás always does when cornered.

He recovers. He builds a wall.

“Well,” he says softly. His voice is a blade, honed and lethal. “Cecilia Morales.”

My throat constricts. He says my maiden name like it is a disease.

“You have got to be kidding me,” continue reading …