Rosebud.

Damien’s name for me, the word which had sickened me each time he’d said it.

This time I turn the word over in my mind while gazing with awe into my baby daughter’s little face. I no longer associate the word with pain and darkness. The unopened beauty of a pink rose—that’s her lips—awakens in me feelings of love and hope.

The nine months of pregnancy had been a roller-coaster as I wrestled with the fear of keeping the baby and the guilt of aborting her or giving her up for adoption. After months of being trailed by the ominous cloud of depression, I made the decision to give her to someone who will love her without associating bad memories with her. I’d found a family, signed the papers, and gone through with the pregnancy.

When Mom heard of my decision, she and I had a huge argument that lasted a month. She offered to raise the baby, but I pointed out that it meant the baby would still be in my life. Finally she gave up trying to change my mind.

My daughter was born last night at the break of dawn. Before her new parents took her away, I asked for a moment with her, to say goodbye to the little person who’d been a part of me for nine months, to feel her warm body in my arms for the first and last time. The moment her big, hazel eyes met mine, the walls around my heart crumbled.

When Jane and Patrick Smith came back into the room to take her, I broke their hearts. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I apologized and told them that just because she left my body doesn’t make her less a part of me. Even if she’s not in my life, she will remain in my world. She’ll live under the same sun, moon, and stars. Giving her away will not mean she’s gone. My body will remember her heartbeat, my heart will forever hold a place for her. I’ll hurt more with her out of my life than in it.

Last night I slept better than I have in months and woke up with that light feeling one gets when something good is about to happen. She’s my something good, the miracle I never saw coming.

I’m standing by the window, gazing out into the night, finally alone for the first time today after my visitors have left. My overjoyed mother left an hour ago, leaving me alone with baby Reese Hollifield, named after my paternal grandmother.

“You are the most gorgeous baby.” I press a kiss on her forehead. “Forgive me for what I almost did.”

I sway from side to side, pulling her body close to mine. She belongs in my arms, in every fiber of my life. Something about Reese brings me peace, the kind I’ve been searching for since leaving Mexico. I could laugh at the irony of life. Funny how Damien’s child, the constant, ever-present reminder of him and Judson is the one that returns to me the peace and joy that had been stolen from me that fateful day in Oaklow.

As I lay Reese back in her crib, she stirs but doesn’t wake. Her sleeping face suddenly reminds me of another baby from the past. Tim, the baby Damien had brought into my life for a short while, the little boy who had given me a slice of comfort when I needed it most. I wonder how he’s doing, whether he finally has the life he deserves, whether he is happy with his adoptive parents.

I recall the shock that had hit me when Damien asked me to look after him, my confusion at trying to understand how Damien could be a monster and still offer to help an abandoned baby.

I switch off all lights except the lamp above my hospital bed. Still sore from the birth, I wince as I lie down, turning to face Reese’s crib, unable to believe how something so precious could come from such a dark place.

The fog of sleep is still thick on my brain, but the urge to wake and check up on Reese is strong. Call it mother instinct. I’ve only fed and changed her an hour ago, but something tells me she needs me. I squeeze my eyes first, and open them, the insides of my eyelids grainy against the eyeballs. Before falling asleep, I’d switched off the light above my bed.

The room is illuminated by the moonlight entering from the window and the sliver of light sneaking in from the corridor through the slit under the door. More than enough light for me to make out a person sitting on the other side of Reese’s crib. But the light is enough to enable me to see the person’s shadow, but not enough to make out the face.

As I sit up in bed, at first I think it might be my mother, but visiting hours have been over for hours. A quick glance at my phone tells me it’s after midnight and the night nurses are strict on no visitors after hours, certainly not this late.

I flick on the light above the bed with the small remote control next to me.

My eyes meet those of the intruder. I blanch and bite back a scream, my hands covering my mouth.

His hair is longer, brushing the tips of his shoulders, and his facial features are slightly sharper from a bit of weight loss. But it’s him.

The man sitting in the wooden chair, holding my baby, is none other than Damien Steel. It can only be him since Judson had died in front of my eyes.

“How—what the . . .?” The whispered words passing through my throat feel like broken glass.

A corner of his mouth curls into a smile so faint it’s almost invisible, but I see it. He glances at Reese, and back up at me. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask for your permission to hold her. I didn’t want to wake you. You need your sleep.”

Fear claws at my spine. I don’t believe in ghosts, but the moment I saw his face, I thought he has to be one. There’s no other explanation for his presence. But ghosts don’t talk, do they?

What the hell is going on?

No. This can’t be happening. I don’t see Damien. I can’t. He’s dead. “You can’t be—” I stutter. “You’re not real.” Even as I say the words I know he is. A ghost would also not be able to hold a baby.

“Put the baby down.” I’m unable to stop my lips from trembling. What I want most to do is fling back the covers and jump out of bed, to snatch Reese from him. But I can only think it as my body is unable to move.

“You’re not real. You’re not here.” I wet my lips as tears press the back of my eyes. I hate not being able to go and protect my child from something I don’t even understand. “You’re dead. He shot you. I saw . . . I heard.”

“You’re right, he did. He shot me right here.” He lays a hand on his abdomen, a storm brewing in his eyes. “But he missed some vital organs. It was a bit touch and go, but I survived. And I heard you killed him.” Pain distorts his face for a moment. “I should have been there to protect you. I don’t know what I would have done if he killed you instead. I never thought we would both make it out of Mexico alive.”

“But,” I shake my head. Unanswered questions bounce around inside my skull. “How did you escape?”

“I played dead, so he set the house on fire and went after you and Adrian instead. He had to keep you from going to the cops. I made it out through the tunnel. Good thing Adrian disobeyed my order of locking it.”

“It’s impossible.” I shiver as my mind returns to Mexico. “The cops said there was a body.”

“It wasn’t mine.” Damien runs a hand over Reese’s red curls and the base of my spine cools. “Remember when the doorbell rang, shortly before you fainted?”

I blink in response.

“My guess is the person who rang it ended up being one of Judson’s victims. Perhaps it was someone who heard shots and came to investigate. I’m sorry, Ivy, for everything I did to you. For everything he did to you. I’ll never forgive myself.” He kisses Reese on the top of the head. “I can’t believe something good came out of such a mess.” He glances up. “She’s beautiful. Like you.”

Still not convinced Damien is real, I bring my hands together in a prayer pose. “Please—put my baby down.”

“Our baby.” He touches Reese’s cheek with the tip of his finger. Reese stirs but continues sleeping. “She’s a miracle.” When he looks back at me, his eyes are bright with tears. “Please, let me hold her for a few more seconds, then you can do anything. I’m not naïve enough to believe you’ve forgiven me for everything I did to you. I wanted to see you and her, then you’ll never see me again. If that’s what you want.”

Adrenaline rushes through my body and I slide out of the bed, pushing past my fear of ghosts. I move cautiously toward Damien, afraid that out of desperation he might do something to Reese. He surprises me by not putting up a fight, instead placing the sleeping baby in my arms.

Holding Reese to me, I take cautious steps to the bed, pick up the remote. “Please go.” One press of a button and one of the night nurses would be alerted and at my door in a heartbeat.

Damien rises, his hands up. “I didn’t come here to hurt you. I’m not the same man I used to be, I can promise you that.” His brows draw together in a frown. “Ivy, you don’t think . . . I hope you don’t think I had something to do with Judson showing up that day. I swear, I had no idea. I really wanted to let you go.”

As much as I want to believe he’s not here, that he’s dead and buried, my hand had come into brief contact with his when I took Reese from him. He’s not a ghost, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t dangerous. My instincts assure me he’s harmless, and his words sound genuine. But how can I ignore the fact that he sneaked into my room and took Reese from her crib without my knowledge, that he’s the same man who had kidnapped me.

“How did you know about the baby?” I hold the remote tighter, still not pressing the button even though panic is forming at the base of my skull. “Have you been following me?”

His face crumbles. “I’m sorry. I meant no harm. I wanted to see how you were doing. I wasn’t sure you’d want me close.” He hangs his head. “So I watched you from a distance. I loved seeing you pregnant. But after the baby was born, I couldn’t stay away. I needed to hold her. It was not my intention to frighten you.”

“I don’t know what to say.” I sink onto the bed.

“Rosebud, I’m ashamed to ask this of you but . . .” He takes a step toward me but I flinch. He nods and takes two steps back. “Give us a chance. Give me a chance to repair what I broke.”

“I can’t.” I swallow a sob. “I’m glad you’re okay, Damien, but I’ll never be able to look at you without seeing Judson.”

He rakes a hand through his hair. “I can’t change the way I look. I’ll always resemble him, but I’m different. I’ll never hurt you again. We can have a real life this time, a real marriage, a family. We already have a child together.”

I lift my chin. “There’s no paternity test to prove it.”

“You think it could be his?” His voice cracks.

I meet his eyes. “I don’t know,” I lie. Judson wore a condom when he had sex with me. I’m well aware that condoms tear, but every piece of me believes Reese is Damien’s child. But I can’t tell him that. I can’t give him a reason to want to stay.

He removes a black cap from his pocket and pulls it low on his forehead. Given the attention my story got, the press would go nuts if someone recognizes him. The twins’ names—and mine—are still on the tip of people’s tongues.

He puts on his shades at the door and turns to me. “You don’t have to worry about seeing me again. I’ll leave town. There will be an envelope waiting for you at the front desk with samples you may need should you want to do a paternity test.” He reaches for the door handle. “I’ll always love you.” Before I can say anything, he’s gone, leaving behind traces of his cologne and an ache in my heart.

After an hour of crying which leaves my temples throbbing, I’m about to lower Reese back in her crib when I notice a small, black leather box at the foot of the crib.

I tuck Reese in and return to my bed to open it. What I find inside makes my breath hitch. Glinting back at me is an oval cut diamond ring with my name engraved in the white gold metal.