Forgotten Daughter

CHAPTER ELEVEN

BY THE time HER LAND Rover approached the French city of Châtellerault that afternoon, Annabelle had cried until she had no tears left.

A loud honk from a passing truck made her focus her attention on the road. Sweat broke out on her forehead. She’d just nearly had an accident. Had she wanted to crash?

Had she?

Her heart pounded. She saw an exit and pulled off the motorway. Parking beside a gas station, she turned off the ignition and cried, leaning her head against the steering wheel.

She wished she could talk to someone who’d give her a reason why she shouldn’t crash her truck into a tree right now. Her heart yearned for Stefano. But he was lost to her now forever.

Who else could she turn to for comfort? Who? Her ex-assistant Marie was busy with her husband and newborn baby. Annabelle’s brothers were getting married and settling down. They didn’t need to be bothered by their poor pathetic sister yet again.

Then she thought of one person who’d remained at Wolfe Manor all these years, even after Annabelle’s brothers had left. One person who’d refused to completely let Annabelle fall off the face of the earth.

Mollie Parker.

Annabelle turned on her mobile, and sudden hope rose to her throat. She looked to see if Stefano had left any messages, messages like I changed my mind. I love you. I need you.

But there were no messages.

And Annabelle realized she did have tears left, after all.

She was being stupid. She’d be back in London by midnight, she told herself, wiping her eyes. Soon, she’d be home.

Except her empty flat didn’t feel much like a home anymore. Now, home meant blue skies and wide golden fields, laughing teenagers and a kindly, plump-cheeked housekeeper keeping them all in line. And most of all, home meant Stefano.

Gone. All gone.

Huddled in the driver’s seat of her parked truck, she wiped her eyes even harder. She’d throw herself back into her career just like always. She’d forget Stefano. She’d bury herself in work until she died.

But the thought just made her cry harder. Once, she’d been numb and content in such a life, with her heart frozen and dead. Stefano had changed that. He’d brought her to life.

Then … he’d taken it all away.

With a shaking finger, Annabelle dialed Mollie’s mobile number in the U.K. But she reached only voice mail. “Hi, this is Mollie.”

Annabelle didn’t leave a message. Desperately, she rang the main house instead, praying that Mollie would be there.

Instead, she heard a man’s deep voice.

“Hello?”

“Jacob?” she said in shock.

“Annabelle?” Her brother sounded surprised, too. “Is that you?”

“I didn’t expect you to be at the house,” she stammered. “Mollie said you were in London all week …”

“I was, yes, but then something happened and—”

Nervously, Annabelle spoke over him. “Actually, I was ringing for Mollie …”

“She’s not here.” He paused. “But can I help you with anything, Belle?”

Her first instinct was to say no, to make an excuse and ring off. But instead, something made her grip the phone to her ear and take a deep breath, which came out as a sob. “Have you been crying?” Jacob demanded.

“What’s happened?”