Chapter 1
Cullen’s first instinct was to deal with Tove and Chase.
His second was stronger.
Mireya.
He lifted his daughter while Margaret called the child’s pediatrician from the conservatory.
Mireya’s breathing had improved after the inhaler, but she remained frightened enough to bury her face against Cullen’s jacket.
Tove tried to speak.
“She does this when she wants attention.”
Cullen looked at her.
“She couldn’t breathe.”
“She was panicking.”
Margaret turned sharply.
“She has asthma.”
Tove gave an irritated laugh.
“She has a mother who taught everyone to panic over her.”
The words landed badly.
Mireya’s mother, Isabel, had died eighteen months earlier after a sudden brain aneurysm.
Margaret had become the person who handled most of Mireya’s daily routines while Cullen buried himself in work.
Tove had entered their lives six months later.
At first, Cullen believed her confidence around Mireya was healthy.
She refused to treat the girl as fragile.
He had admired that.
Now he wondered what else he had mistaken for strength.
The pediatrician told Margaret to take Mireya to the emergency department because of the delayed rescue medication.
Cullen immediately called for a car.
Tove stepped toward him.
“You’re really taking her to a hospital because she coughed?”
Cullen looked down at Mireya.
The child was still holding the inhaler pouch against her chest.
Then Margaret bent toward her handbag.
Tove’s attention snapped toward it.
Cullen noticed.
So did Margaret.
Margaret closed the handbag.
“I’m taking this with me.”
Tove said nothing.
Cullen looked from one woman to the other.
May you like
Whatever Tove had been trying to carry out of the conservatory mattered enough that she had reached for Margaret’s handbag before leaving.
Cullen suddenly wanted to know why.
