“Right?” Lauren felt a rush of deep despair. “Same. And with . . . with the baby,” Lauren stuttered. “Did he make you think that you were doing things wrong?” And then she swallowed raggedly, something new occurring to her: Did Piper still think North was alive, after all of this?

“I know about North,” Piper said, as if reading her mind. There was defeat in her voice. “I know he’s not . . . you know. But I just . . . couldn’t . . .” She waved her hands around, searching for the words.

“It’s okay,” Lauren said gently. “You don’t have to explain.”

Piper laughed bitterly. “But I do. To lawyers. To the reporters who keep calling.” She sounded a little unhinged. “Oh, and by the way, it was your husband who called my contact at Hulu. My producer said she slipped up and told you they’d pulled out. Graham did it as insurance, I guess. So I wouldn’t warn you about him.”

Lauren pushed her spine against the back of the chair. She hadn’t put this piece together, and she didn’t know what to do with it. Did this mean Graham did love her, in some twisted way? He didn’t want to lose her? Or maybe he just wanted to keep her close so he could control her.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

Piper shrugged. “He really didn’t want you to know what kind of monster he was. That was his main concern. He kept talking about how he loves his baby, how he doesn’t want to lose what he has. Although, I’d keep him away from that kid, if I were you.”

Lauren nodded. And then she said, “Do you think Graham . . . Do you think . . . what happened, it was his fault?” She hated to even think of Graham accidentally hurting a baby—but she needed to know.

“I don’t know.” Piper sounded empty. “I always thought it was my fault. I put too many blankets in the crib. It was hot in the room. I second-guessed everything I did that day. But . . . I guess we’ll never know.” She shut her eyes as though she hadn’t slept in years. “I just . . . I just always wanted to be a mother. I couldn’t bear not being a mother.”

“You still are,” Lauren said sadly. It was such a secret society, motherhood. It defined you in ways a career couldn’t, not entirely. It gave you a center, it gave you a drive, it gave you an excuse to push forward every day. For Piper, it gave her a story—which launched Silver Swans. To have that ripped from you—it would be like losing a vital organ.

“Why did Carson write that note to me?” she asked. “That I wasn’t wanted at Silver Swans? Because of Graham?”

Piper shut her eyes. “I thought you knew something about the money. You were hanging around with those other women, so . . .”