"Oh, and you should've seen their little boy—fair-skinned, sharp as a whip, a real city kid. They threw dozens of parties for his first birthday. I even got a bag of dyed eggs to take home..."
A high-pitched ringing flooded my ears. The world tilted.
Spencer's first birthday. Calvin had brought the baby back to the countryside that year.
If what these villagers were saying was true—if Spencer was their child—then where was mine?
The image of that small, crumbling grave flashed through my mind, and my chest tightened until I couldn't breathe.
No. Absolutely not.
I couldn't hold back any longer. I stormed out and confronted them head-on.
"Why is my son calling you 'Mom'? What is this?"
Panic flickered across Lola's face. She looked to Calvin on instinct.
"Calvin..."
He hadn't expected me to show up. Something close to alarm broke through his handsome features, and he immediately stepped away from Lola, putting distance between them.
"Corinne, it's a misunderstanding. Calm down."
Only then did I realize my entire body was shaking.
I stared at the man I'd loved for six years, and the tears spilled before I could stop them.
"Lola said Spencer is your child. Yours and hers."
"What does that mean?"
Isabella Lyons rushed forward to smooth things over.
"Oh, listen to yourself! You're a Lyons wife, and haven't I always treated you like my own daughter?"
"Your sister-in-law lost her baby so young—she can't help doting on Spencer like he's her own. She just misspoke, that's all."
The Guardian Locket dug into my palm, the edges biting into skin that already itched and stung.
I steadied myself and turned to Calvin.
"Is that true? What your mother said?"
Calvin pressed his lips together. His gaze shifted, just slightly.
"Of course."
"Every year when we visit the graves, Lola thinks about the child she lost. I let Spencer call her 'Mom' just to comfort her. That's all it is."
Then he changed the subject.
"Weren't you supposed to be paying respects at your family's cemetery? What are you doing here?"
Calvin had a tell. Whenever he lied, he deflected.
A chill sank through me.
He was lying. Just as I'd suspected.
So I played along.
"I've been having nightmares lately. A child, face bruised purple, crying out for me—calling me Mama. A priest told me to check your family's burial plots, see if there's something wrong with the feng shui."
The moment the words left my mouth, all three of their faces changed.
Isabella's reaction was the most dramatic. Her voice shot up an octave.
"That's just superstition! Your father-in-law probably sent you a dream because you never come to pay your respects—that's all!"
Her own words contradicted each other. One breath it was superstition; the next, a dead man was sending dreams.
I didn't call her on it. I just kept my eyes on Calvin and Lola.
"I've heard that when a child dies young, you're supposed to hold a proper ceremony to put the spirit to rest. Could it be that Lola never had one done? Maybe that baby sees how much love Spencer gets and isn't happy about it—so she came to me instead?"
Lola clutched Spencer tighter. A visible shudder ran through her.
"That's terrifying, Corinne. Don't say things like that."
"It was just a baby girl who didn't even live long enough to be named. How could she possibly haunt anyone? You've just been overworked."
Calvin stepped in front of Lola without thinking, shielding her. The look he gave me held a thin edge of irritation.
"We're living in the twenty-first century. Stop with the ghost stories—you're scaring Spencer."
On cue, Spencer wrapped his arms around Lola's neck and peered at me with wide, frightened eyes.
"Mommy, I'm scared."
Isabella wiped the cold sweat from her forehead and reached for my arm.
"Come on, enough of this spooky talk. Let me show you the family plots. Six years of marriage and this is your first time visiting—Calvin always said you were too busy."
Six years. Calvin had always promised he'd bring me next time.
