Chapter 8: What He Saw at the Altar

Luca Benedetti sat in the hospital parking garage with the engine off for forty minutes.

Tierney's voice was still in the car with him.

I've always known who you were.

I've known about the swap for months.

He tried to hear it kindly.

She had kept a secret to spare him.

He had loved her since he was twenty-two, and it was the sort of thing she would do.

But the kind version would not hold still.

She had known for months.

She had sat beside him in his study, cried about Paris, and asked about his day.

She had known, and she had let him put his own wife down a flight of stairs.

He put his hand flat on the wheel.

It shook, and he watched it shake, and he couldn't stop it.

He had known the bride was the wrong twin since the wedding night, and he had kept quiet for three years.

She had never once said, Luca, I know you know.

She had only left the foyer light on and made him eggs that would not hurt his stomach.

On Thursday night, a woman with a cast and a bruise had told him Mirella pushed her.

He had not asked Livia one question.

He had not asked where she was at nine.

He had not asked what time her car came, or who had been on the terrace.

He had driven home with Tierney's voice in his ear and dragged his wife across a floor.

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