He wasn’t being cruel.

He genuinely thought he was helping.

Sabrina looked from one matching face to another.

“Tristan?”

He couldn’t answer.

His mother, Evelyn Holloway, came out from the dining room wearing an emerald necklace and an expression of practiced welcome.

She stopped so abruptly that the young waiter behind her nearly collided with her back.

“Who are these children?”

“Hello, Evelyn,” I said. “These are Mason, Caleb, Asher, and Liam.”

Her gaze passed over the boys and stopped on the shape of Mason’s eyes.

All four had Tristan’s dark hair.

Liam had the small indentation in his chin that appeared in Holloway family portraits going back three generations.

Evelyn’s hand rose to her mouth.

“Oh.”