“But she knew you were her mother the whole time. That is truly sick.”

“I’m no psychologist, but if I had to guess, I’d venture to say she wanted to take away everything that mattered to me. You. Dashiell. Our marriage. And punish us both in the process.”

“She bloody well nearly succeeded.”

Sutton went silent for a moment. “Ethan... There’s more. In Paris. I—”

He held up a hand. “Tomkins—he called himself Constantine, right?—told Graham all about it, and she gave me the basics. I forgive you. My God, if you can forgive me Ivy, and Dashiell, it’s the least I can do.”

“You are forgiven,” she said. “For everything, and I hope you’ll forgive me, too, and we can let them go. They deserve each other. But I have something much more important to tell you. In Paris...I found out that I’m pregnant.”

Ethan reared back as if she’d slapped him. “By that douche you slept with? Hell of a way to begin forgiving—”

She laid her hand on his. “Ethan, no. Oh my God, no. I was pregnant before I left. I swear. I thought I’d lost it. I took a test three weeks ago, and it was positive, but right after, I started to bleed. I assumed I was miscarrying. Maybe I was, or maybe it was a fluke. I took it as a sign. It seemed fitting. I was so afraid you’d hurt Dashiell, and if I were pregnant again, then we would both be in danger. I prayed not to be, and then I started to bleed, and I thought, for once, God’s answered my prayers.”

“I would never hurt Dashiell. Or you.”

“I know that now. I started feeling ill the first day I arrived in Paris. I figured I’d gotten into something on the plane. I didn’t think. No, that’s not true. I wanted to run away and pretend my life hadn’t turned out how it did.”

“When did you know for sure?” he whispered.

“Inspector Badeau noticed how sick I was during the interrogation and thought something was up. She brought me a test, and I took it.” She pulled it from her purse and handed it to him. The two lines stared up at him like slitted eyes.