Right after delivery, my husband smirked at the newborn: “We need a DNA test to be sure it’s mine.” I held the baby tightly, tears in my eyes, and whispered, “Fine, let’s do it.” Days later, the doctor stared at the lab results with a pale face and said, “Ma’am, call the police right now.”

against my ribs like a trapped bird. It was her. The peppermint phantom.

“So what’s the play?” the man demanded.

“We have to move the surplus asset tonight,” Marsh commanded, her voice turning ice-cold. “The buyer is waiting at the extraction point. Once the transaction clears, we vanish. I have the secondary target secured in the old hydrotherapy wing.continue reading …