In retrospect, he hadn't lavished her with his attention—also a lot like her father. He'd always been working, but she'd overlooked that. It would all be different when they married, or so she told herself. And maybe it would have been.

Vinnie's admission that he'd broken the law hadn't changed her decision to marry him. She'd agreed to stand by him, and at least he'd planned to do the right thing.

His murder had shattered her life. No, not exactly. His murder had shattered her heart. When she'd run, though, that had ended her life. With Vinnie, she'd been somebody's everything. And even after he'd died, Marisa had had Leslie, she'd had friends and coworkers and fellow students, people who liked her and cared about her. Marisa had mattered to those people.

After she'd had to escape, it was as if she'd disappeared. She had still existed, still taken up just as much space in the world, but people had stopped seeing her. They often noticed the pretty face—when she didn't hide well enough—but they didn't know her.

She remembered standing on a corner in Mexico City, surrounded by hoards of people and wanting to scream, "Look at me! I'm right here." Not that she would have, not with her fear of Charles and his goons. Even if she had, though, they wouldn't have looked, wouldn't have cared. She was one of millions and millions of people. She might as well have been a ghost.

When she'd started teaching at the orphanage, that had changed a little. Even then, though, she could imagine what would have happened if she'd vanished like so many people in this part of the world did. What would they say about her?

Remember that lady who taught English? She disappeared.

Oh, how sad. What's for lunch?

It hadn't been until Marisa found Ana, the baby who'd always been meant to be hers, that Marisa felt corporeal again. Suddenly, she wasn't just the English teacher. She was somebody's mother, and that somebody needed her like Marisa had never been needed before.

Now Ana was gone. Marisa could feel herself vanishing, even as she sat on the airplane and headed home. Without Ana, she would disappear. Without Ana, Marisa wouldn't matter at all. Without Ana, she wouldn't want to exist, anyway.

At the airport in Mexico City, Nate bought breakfast and two coffees. Rather than eat at the food court, they continued to the gate to wait for their next flight.

Seated in one of the many leather-like chairs scattered around the gate area, Marisa eyed the sack Nate had set on the seat between them. "I won't be able to eat. Not until I know where Ana is."

"Starving yourself won't help."

When Nate handed her the egg sandwich, her stomach growled. She ate the whole thing, then teared up for the thousandth time that morning. Had Ana eaten breakfast? Had she slept? Had they mistreated her?