The drive from Atlanta to Chattanooga was an easy two and a half hours. Aiden’s Aston Martin ate up the road, hurtling us down I-75 toward my parents and the confrontation I was dreading. It didn’t matter that they weren’t my biological parents.

Finding out that I’d been adopted changed everything. And nothing.

Whoever was responsible for my DNA, they were strangers. They had nothing to do with my childhood. Nothing to do with Suzanne and Henry Westbrook. Nothing to do with their expectations and my failures.

I stared through the window for most of the drive, marshaling my resources. I would show them nothing. No pain. No fear. All they would get from me was ice. I didn’t want to renew our relationship or mend fences. I wanted to get my hands on those files. That was all.

We pulled up in front of the house I’d grown up in at exactly five-thirty. The brick colonial looked just as it had the last time I’d seen it, right down to the tidy landscaping and artfully arranged flower pots on the front steps.

Unless their schedule had changed, my father would have arrived home from work fifteen minutes before and would be in the parlor with my mother enjoying a pre-dinner drink.

I wasn’t ready, and I was out of time.

I’d dressed in the only suit Aiden had packed, the ice blue linen he’d liked so much when I’d worn it in Las Vegas. I was glad. I was tired of hiding myself in boxy, drab suits. They could take me as I was.

I almost wished I’d snapped a picture of my mother’s expression when she saw us in her doorway. For just a second her face went slack, jaw dropped, eyes wide and disbelieving.

Her frosted blonde hair, so like Chase’s and my own, was arranged in the same sleek bob she’d had for years. Like me, she wore linen, though her calf-length skirt was topped with a light Cashmere twin set. My mother did love her twin sets. The delicate pearl buttons matched the string around her neck and the studs in her ears. Her blue eyes were cool when she regained her composure.

“Violet. What brings you here unannounced?” she asked, neither stepping back from the door to invite us in or bothering to say hello.

Aiden’s squeeze of my fingers gave me strength. I lifted my chin and looked down my nose at the woman who’d raised me, then thrown me out without a moment of pity.

“I won’t take much of your time. I have a few questions, and if you’ll answer them, I’ll leave.”

“And who is this?” she asked, raking Aiden with a gaze like a blade, ready to carve him to pieces. I knew her too well. When she heard his last name, she’d shift gears fast enough. My parents were predictable, and they were dyed in the wool snobs.

Taking control, Aiden held out his hand for hers. “Aiden Winters. Of the Atlanta Winters. If you don’t mind, as Violet said, we won’t take much of your time.”

At the sound of his name, my mother warmed to wealth and position as she never had to her children. She took Aiden’s hand in both of hers as if he were a long-lost relative.

“Of course, of course. I’m sorry, I was just so surprised to see Violet. We haven’t heard from her in so long, you see. Come in. Come in.”

Finally, she stepped back and held the door wide, inviting us inside. “Henry and I were just having a drink. What can I get you?”

We followed her in, Aiden and I sharing a glance behind her back. He rolled his eyes at her ridiculous shift in manner, his expression almost startling a giggle from me.

It wouldn’t do to laugh: that would put her on edge and I needed her relaxed. I bit my lip to keep the sound inside and shook my head at him.

My father’s face when he saw me was almost enough to startle the laugh right back out of me. He went white, then red, and shot my mother a furious glare. She stepped into the breach with a flutter of one hand towards Aiden. “Darling, Violet has stopped by for a short visit and brought Aiden Winters with her.”

The look she sent him was so heavy with expectation I had to bite my lip again. Did she know how obvious she was? My father’s eyes flew wide before he regained his composure and came to his feet, thrusting his hand toward Aiden.

Not only did he not speak to me, he didn’t even look at me. As much as the sight of his face made my stomach turn, his disinterest in his only daughter was a stab to my heart.

He shook Aiden’s hand heartily, embarrassingly enthusiastic. “So good of you both to visit. What can I get you to drink?”

Aiden said politely, “Whatever you’re having.”

No one acknowledged my quiet, “Nothing for me, thank you.”

My father fixed drinks and we sat. I found myself perched on the edge of the loveseat beside Aiden. Chase and I were never allowed in this room unless we were in trouble. Then, at my mother’s direction, I always sat here, back straight and eyes level as I listened to her castigate me for whatever it was I’d done wrong.

My mother handed me a glass of wine I hadn’t asked for and said, “Violet, you look well.”

“Thank you.”

“So, how do you know our Violet,” my father asked Aiden. “I can’t imagine how you might have crossed paths.”

“You’d be surprised,” Aiden said. “Violet has made a place for herself in Atlanta. My family and I are very fond of her.”

I resisted the urge to poke Aiden in the side. If Gage was fond of me, I’d hate to see his reaction to someone he disliked.

“How did you meet?” My mother asked, her eyes flitting between us.

Already tired of this conversation, I set the glass of wine on the coffee table untouched and leaned forward. “I spoke with Chase yesterday.”

My father’s voice was a slap. “Do not speak his name in our home.”

“He’s your son and my brother. I will speak his name. He’s doing very well, not that you care.”

“Your brother,” my father said weightily, “chose to turn his back on this family.”

“He dropped out of college, got a tattoo, and bought a motorcycle. He didn’t kill someone. He just didn’t fall in line with your plans. He didn’t turn his back on you, you turned your back on him.”

My mother pursed her lips in disapproval and avoided my gaze, making a tiny sound of distress in the back of her throat. I realized I’d raised my voice. Seeing them again, being here, reminded me of all the reasons I’d walked out the front door and never returned.

Focus, I lectured myself. You’re not here to fight with them. You’re here to get those files.

Aiden’s palm flattened on the small of my back just under the edge of my suit jacket, his hand warm through the thin silk of my blouse. The simple touch soothed, and I leaned into him just a little. “Chase said that we were adopted. Why did you never tell me?”

Both of my parents froze, faces blank. My mother recovered first. “He’s a liar. Violet, you know that. We had no choice but to cut him off after his behavior became unacceptable. You can’t believe a thing he says.”

“So it’s not true?” I asked, fully aware who the real liars were.

My father blustered, “Of course, it’s not true. Look at you. You’re the image of your mother.”

Except that I wasn’t. Our hair color was the same, but hers was helped by a bottle. I was taller, and curvier, and though her eyes were similar to Chase’s, no one in the family had the same odd bluish-purple of my own.

I’d seen a picture of Aiden’s cousin Vance at Winters House. He was right, Chase and Vance were almost identical.

I ignored my father’s comment. “Then you’re denying it.”

“Of course, we’re denying it,” my mother said, tugging at the strand of pearls around her neck as if it were a tightening noose. “It’s ridiculous. It’s just your brother trying to cause trouble again.”

Sensing that we were wasting our time, Aiden leaned into me and said quietly, though loud enough for them to hear, “Sweetheart, we don’t need to talk about this. We’ve had a long drive, why don’t you go freshen up while I get to know your parents.”

I manufactured the most saccharine smile I could come up with and aimed it straight at Aiden. “Of course. I’ll be right back.” To my parents, I said, “Excuse me.”

As I left the parlor and walked down the hall to the kitchen I heard my father say, “That’s how you have to handle her. She needs guidance. Direction. If you don’t keep her in line, she gets out of hand.”

I resisted the urge to eavesdrop and picked up my pace. Bypassing the small powder room off the kitchen, I headed straight for the basement door.

I was too angry at Chase to talk to him yet, but I didn’t need to ask where he’d found the files. Like the rest of the house, the basement was ruthlessly organized. There were only two file cabinets in the storage closet beneath the stairs, each of them with three drawers, and none were locked. It probably hadn’t occurred to my parents we’d ever bother to look inside.

My heart raced and sweat coated my palms as I opened a drawer and scanned the neatly labeled folders. I trusted Aiden to keep my parents occupied, but I’d feel better once I found what I needed. The first drawer was filled with tax information, a folder for each year going back well over two decades.

The second drawer held receipts, titles to their vehicles, and, weirdly, every report card either Chase or myself had ever brought home. I couldn’t imagine why my parents would have saved them. Especially since they’d thrown us both out of the house. But there they were, organized by year. I skipped past them and dug further.