The rest of the day seemed to crawl by. Eloise lay on her bed, listless, too depressed to move. For the first few hours after arriving back at the hotel, she had struggled to think of a way out for herself and for Masoud. If she could tell him the truth about the situation, would that help?

No, she realized. It was too late for that. Coming clean about the way Patrick was manipulating her would ease her own conscience, probably, but it wouldn’t do anything to help Masoud out of the fix he was in. He would still be the father of two babies being carried by a woman he barely knew. Whether or not she was angry about it wasn’t the problem.

She considered lying and saying she’d made the whole thing up. She could tell Masoud and Patrick that she’d done exactly what Patrick had hinted at and lied about the paternity of the babies. Now that Patrick had pointed it out to her, she could see that there were many reasons why a person might do something like that.

But that wouldn’t work either, she decided. For one thing, after being fed contradictory stories, Masoud likely would insist on a paternity test, and the truth of the matter would be revealed. For another, Patrick was sure to cut her off if she tried to disrupt his plan.

If only she didn’t need him. If only she didn’t need his money. She hated to admit that she did. God, if only it had just been her, she would have taken a job waiting tables, moved into a tiny apartment, and figured out how to get by. But she had four other lives—her parents’ and her babies’—to consider.

No matter how much she hated what she was doing to Masoud, she couldn’t put that out of her mind. Not even for a moment.

She would have to face him again tomorrow. The thought of it was almost too much to bear. Would she be asked to take a pregnancy test to prove her claim? If she was, she realized, she would have no choice about whether to comply or not. She had no agency here. She was nothing but a pawn in the negotiations.

He wouldn’t use me this way, if he knew.

But Masoud didn’t know, and there was no way she could tell him.

Eloise got to her feet. She hadn’t eaten yet today, and although she was too distraught to feel genuinely hungry, she knew she needed to eat something for the sake of the babies. For a moment, she considered leaving the hotel. She could go down to the street below, take a walk, enjoy the warm desert air, and look for someplace to eat.

Closing her eyes, she remembered the wonderful spices in the fresh seafood she’d shared with Masoud. The food was prepared so differently here in Al-Zhera from how it was back at home. Eloise had loved it.

No, she couldn’t go out to eat. Those flavors were likely to remind her of her meal with Masoud, and she’d probably start crying or something. It would be too horrible.

She considered ordering a car and going to the old town. There had been so many street vendors in the area, and she and Masoud hadn’t had the chance to stop at any of their carts. She could pick up a few ingredients, bring them back here, and put together a salad or some other meal that didn’t require much cooking.

But it all just sounded like so much work. The idea of going out—of even leaving this bed—was overwhelming. What was her life going to be like? Not only would her children not have a father, but she was always going to know that his lack of involvement in their lives was her own fault for allowing herself to be played like this. She needed the money to raise them, yes, but did they need their father more than they needed money?

Had Eloise made the wrong choice?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.

Patrick, she thought dully. No doubt he wanted to go over what they would say when they met with Masoud tomorrow, what terms they would insist upon for the revised contract. Eloise was not going to get involved with that. It was bad enough that she was being used as leverage; she certainly wasn’t going to help Patrick come up with the best possible deal to take advantage of Masoud’s position.

She ignored the door.

The knock came again, more insistently. Eloise didn’t move.

“Ms. Lang?” a voice called. It wasn’t Patrick.

Eloise got to her feet and looked through the peephole to see a young man in a hotel uniform. She opened the door slightly, keeping the chain bolted.

“Yes?” she said, peeking through the crack.

“A letter was delivered for you,” the man said.

Indeed, he was holding a silver tray with a letter on it. Eloise could make out her name on the envelope. She extended a hand through the cracked door and the man passed her the letter. Nodding her thanks, Eloise closed the door and returned to the bed, turning the envelope over in her hands.

There was no return address and no indication of who the sender might be. Eloise slit it open and read:

Eloise,

I would very much like to meet with you to discuss the information that was brought to light today. I will be in the gardens at City Hall at midnight. I hope you will join me.

Please come alone.

Regards,

Masoud

He wanted to see her. He wanted to talk about it.

She didn’t know what he would have to say. It was entirely possible he just wanted to berate her for taking advantage of his generosity. But at least Eloise would have the opportunity to apologize, and to tell him her side of the story.

For the first time since Patrick had outlined his plan, she felt hopeful. Maybe together, they would figure out what to do.