Guru Hothi’s leather pants and jacket had been replaced with a fitted gray suit and a pagadi that matched the color of his subtle pinstripes. Gone were the ostentatious watch and layers of gold chains. Instead, his Rolex was a bit more tasteful, and his jewelry was limited to a kara on his wrist, two gold rings, and a diamond stud in one ear. He stroked a hand over a closely trimmed beard.

“I haven’t changed that much for you to keep staring at me like that,” he said in Punjabi.

“What are you doing here, Guru?”

“Trying to chase you down when I have better things to do back in India.” He strolled across her office and pulled out the chair Tracey had recently vacated. He dropped into it and crossed an ankle over his knee. “How have you been?”

Seeing him was like a kick in the teeth. He reminded her of everything she’d escaped and everything she missed. “I’m going to ask you one more time before I tell you to get out. What are you doing here, Guru?”

He looked up at her, straight in the eyes, and said coolly, “Mom is dying. She has six months, maybe less. She wants to see you before she’s gone.”

Raj stumbled to her chair and dropped into it like a stone. The stomach bile rose again, and this time she had to brace her hands on her knees and take a few easy breaths.

“Do you want some water? I can call one of your staff to bring you some.”

She looked up at her brother, who was eyeing her as if he was . . . concerned. Which couldn’t be the case, of course. No, he’d turned his back on her long ago.

Her mother, the one person Raj had hoped would still love her when she decided to forge an independent future for herself, had turned her back on Raj, too.

Raj could still remember hearing her mother’s voice on the phone that last time. The cold rejection had been sharper than a chef’s knife. Even though the wounds on her heart had been scabbed over for so long, they still throbbed at the memory.

“What—what happened?”

“Mom has a tumor,” Guru said softly. “In her spine, and now there are growths in her brain. She’s gone through surgeries and radiation treatment, but nothing is working.”

“Why does she want to see me?”

“Because you are her only daughter.”

The way he said it, the accusing tone in his voice, had her straightening. “I thought she only had a son. Isn’t that what you told me the last time you came to New York? Isn’t that what she told me the last time I called her? You got what you wanted. I’m no longer a part of the family. You can’t continue to change your mind, bhaiya.”