She’d be forever grateful for that. Grateful enough to let them go, because it was the right thing to do. The only thing really. She had no right to them because she’d lied. She was a terrible person, just like her sister and her mother, no matter how noble her reasons for doing it.
Tears stung her eyes and here, in the privacy of her mother’s hospice room with nothing but the monotonous beep of the heart monitor for company, Isabella let them fall. She cried for her sister’s tragic death, cried for her mother who had always been too smart and too ambitious for her own good. But mostly, Isabella cried for herself. For all she’d finally gained and would ultimately lose because of her deception.
When her sobs finally lessened to sniffles and hiccups, she noticed her mother’s fingers gripping hers tighter. She wiped her blurry eyes and looked up to find her mother looking at her through half-lidded eyes, dark circles shadowing the flesh beneath.
“Why are you crying, Issy?” her mother said, the words a ragged whisper. “What’s wrong?”
Isabella shook her head and blinked away fresh tears. “Nothing, Mama. I’m fine.”
“I can see you’re not. I know better than to think all that crying’s about me.” She gave her daughter a dubious look. “Got no illusions about how I lived my life. I’m just sorry that you got caught up in my mess. Your sister was born to it, but you never were. Forgive me?”
“It’s fine, Mama. Really. You did the best you could.” Isabella’s heart squeezed. “Why didn’t you tell me your cancer was so advanced though? I never would have left if I’d known.”
“That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you. Look, for your whole life I’ve been selfish where you were concerned. I didn’t do right by you, Issy. But in this last thing I wanted to. I want you to have your shot at happiness. With the man you love.” She tried to push herself up in the bed, wincing, then stilled. “Look in my drawer.”
Isabella opened the drawer in the nightstand her mother indicated and found a sealed white envelope. She pulled it out and handed it to her mother.
“I tried to remind you that day when you and Feraz came to see me before you left for Djave. Did you ever wonder why I gave you girls the same names, just reversed?” Her mother stared at the envelope in Isabella’s hands. “Why your sister was Roxanne Isabella and you were Isabella Roxanne?”
“I figured it was laziness or lack of imagination,” Isabella said, snorting. “Not really.”
“No. I’m never lazy and I’ve got more imagination than all of Disney put together.” Her mother raised her chin and met daughter’s gaze. “I’ve spent my whole life looking ahead, calculating the next risk, hedging the next bet. It was the same with you girls. I always knew you were my ace in the hole, Issy. I always knew one day you’d save us all. Now, it’s my turn to do the same for you.” She handed Isabella back the envelope. “Go ahead, open it.”
She did, then stared at the paperwork inside. It was a letter, written by Roxanne to Isabella two days before her death. In it, she spoke of knowing about Isabella’s crush on Feraz and how if anything happened to her, she wanted her sister to comfort him. How she’d decided to have Isabella undergo the IVF in her place because she knew that Isabella would make a wonderful mother and that her children would always have a loving home. She gave her blessing for Isabella to take over her life in Djeva, to take her place in Feraz’s family, to have the future she’d always dreamed of but never expected.
It still didn’t solve the problem of living a lie.
“Mama, I—”
“Stop.” Her mother gave her a look. “It was clear to anyone with eyes that you loved that Nazrani fellow from the first moment you laid eyes on him on the beach two years ago. Of course, back then your sister and I had other plans. We ruined what might have been for you two by pushing your sister at him and men are so easily fooled by a pretty face and flashy clothes.” Her mother broke off in a coughing fit and Isabella rose to rub her back for her to ease the pain.
When the awful hacking was over, she helped her mother to lean back against the pillows again, alarmed by her glassy stare and ragged breathing. A hospice nurse peeked her head in and gave Isabella a sad smile. Her instincts said it wouldn’t be long now and she didn’t want to waste a moment. She took her mother’s hand again and held tight.
“Mama, it wasn’t your fault. Feraz had a choice in the matter too and back then he didn’t even look twice at me. Things work out the way they’re supposed to.”
“Unless you give them a push,” her mother said, flashing a weak smile, her voice gruff and low. “I’m a pusher. Always have been. This time, though, I’m so glad for it. You love him, I can see it in your eyes, Issy. You deserve him. And now you can have him. You have your sister’s blessing, for what it’s worth. And you have mine too. I want you to have him and a family again after I’m gone.”
Isabella exhaled slow. “It’s not that easy, Mama. I have to tell him about what we did. I can’t live a lie. I won’t do that to him or his family. And once I tell them they’ll have to throw me out because you can’t fix something like this.”
“Ah, but you can, Issy.” Her mother wheezed, her pale skin going even grayer. “That’s where your names come in. Tell him. If he truly loves you, he’ll understand. Knowing him and how clever he is, he may have already figured it out. Tell him and then use the name I gave you to fix it. Use your names…”
Her mother tensed, and her eyes went wide, then nothing. The heart monitor flat-lined and the hospice nurses rushed in along with the doctor, but Isabella knew it was over. Her mother was gone.
In a daze, Isabella talked with the staff and confirmed her mother’s arrangements then signed the necessary paperwork. Gone. Her mother was gone. On one hand she was grateful she wasn’t in pain anymore. On the other she couldn’t shake the persistent ache in her heart. She’d lost so much already. and it wasn’t over yet. She still needed to talk to Feraz.
She walked out to the waiting limo and slid in the back seat, still reeling from the events of the past hour and still trying to figure out what her mother’s last words meant.
Use your names…
* * *
One week.
One week his wife had been gone and all Feraz had gotten were a few sporadic texts. To say he was worried and a tad upset would have been an understatement. Not because he didn’t understand her need to rush home to be by her dying mother’s side or the reason she’d gone alone. She still assumed he didn’t know her true identity or what she’d done. Or why.
He’d put his nervous energy to good use while she’d been gone. Isabella. He’d invested time and money into a thorough private investigation surrounding the events of Roxanne Germain’s death and also the weeks leading up to it. He’d also petitioned to have the New York clinic’s records opened regarding Roxanne’s IVF procedure and it hadn’t taken long to put the pieces together. Roxanne had manipulated her sister into having the twins. The only thing he didn’t fully know was what had been offered to make Isabella say yes.
He needed that answer to come directly from his wife.