Half an hour later, he led me to the manor’s back mountain, where rows of graves stretched out in silence. Then he stopped at a fresh mound. The headstone was blank with no name or identity.
I frowned, unsettled. Then Cade said, “Phoebe, the one you’ve been searching for has always been me.”
I froze, not understanding. “Cade, don’t lie to me. If you dare trick me, think about what might happen to Margaret.”
But his expression stayed grave, even pained. “Phoebe, stop searching. I am Renzo.”
My face turned cold. “Don’t joke with me.”
“I’m not joking. The one who died was my brother.”
With a tortured look, he pried open the stone casing on the tomb. My heart lurched when I saw the carved name beneath — Cade Oliver. The letters burned into my eyes.
“Now you believe me?” he pressed. “I am Renzo.”
