The Night In Question. Harper Allen

in a tense breath. “And now she’s the woman keeping your daughter from you. That’s my fault too, Julia. But whatever it takes, I’m—”

      “It’s not your fault. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

      It was ironic, she thought. For over two years now the man in front of her had been convinced she was guilty of the one crime she hadn’t committed. Now he seemed just as determined to find her innocent on all counts—and some part of her was more than willing to let him keep his good opinion of her.

      But that was why she’d needed to confess to him in the first place, she told herself coldly. Because she had to make him see that she didn’t deserve absolution.

      He could get Willa back for you. He said it himself—if your name was completely cleared, no court would keep her from you. That’s what you’ve wanted, isn’t it?

      The small voice inside her head didn’t belong to her anymore. It was the voice of the woman she’d once been, Julia thought dully—Sylvia’s daughter, who, if she’d learned nothing else from her beautiful mother, had been taught that her golden looks and an ability to tell the number of carats in a diamond at a glance entitled her to glide through life without taking any responsibility. And there was still enough of Sylvia left in her that she’d shirked from telling him the whole truth, even yet.

      She raised her gaze to his, schooling her features into a frozen impassivity.

      “I thought you would have come across it during your investigation, but I guess Kenneth’s lawyers must have figured it made him look almost as bad as it did me.” Despite herself, her voice shook. “But it exists, Max. I wish to heaven it didn’t but it does, and my signature’s on it.”

      “What exists, dammit?” Obliterating the last few inches between them, he took her by the shoulders, his grip firm. He shook his head in confusion. “Did Tennant get you to sign some kind of prenuptial agreement or something? Whatever it was, it won’t have any bearing on whether you’re given custody of Willa. You’re her mother, for God’s sake—no one can take that away from you.”

      “That’s just it—it wasn’t taken away from me!”

      Wrenching out of his grasp, Julia felt the tremors start to spread. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself, as if to hold them in, but it was no use. She stared back at him, her vision glazing in pain.

      “It wasn’t taken away from me, Max—I gave it up.” Her voice cracked hoarsely. “I gave Willa up.”

      She saw the incomprehension in his eyes and suddenly the guilt and shame that had been dammed up in her for so long spilled over in a corrosive wave.

      “You still don’t get it, do you?” she said, her tone rising thinly. “I signed all rights to my daughter away two days before I got married, Max! She’s the most precious thing in my life—and nothing can wipe out the fact that I traded her away before she was even born.”