Gabrielle pushes Jackson, but he doesn't move. He seems to be completely unconscious. He snores loudly, and she slips her phone back into her pocket. She stares down at him and tries to think. Jessica is such a common name—it could be anyone.

She chews her lip and paces back and forth on the oak floors. Well, the man clearly has expensive tastes, Gabrielle thinks. He must come from a wealthy family, but which one? There are at least a dozen different Jessicas in this city's top families—who knows how many there are in the country. There's Jessica Ratcliffe, Jessica Lee, Jessica Lawrence, Jessica Clifford—the list goes on and on. She leans down and shakes his shoulder as hard as she can, but he only snores louder. She grabs an open bottle of wine from the table and slowly pours it over his head. The red liquid splashed down his face and onto the sofa. He snorts, gasps, and opens his eyes. He looks around the room as if he barely recognizes it.

"Say it again, you ass," she shouts.

"Huh?" he asks, "What did I say?"

"Say it again," she insists.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he says.

"You just told me that you're faking your amnesia," Gabrielle says. "You said you felt really bad for taking advantage of me and promised to move out of the apartment and return all the money you've spent."

Jackson wipes the wine from his face with the back of his hand. His bloodshot eyes look glazed. He shakes his head and blinks slowly.

"No, you're trying to trick me," he says, but he sounds uncertain.

"I swear, I'm not," Gabrielle says. "Besides, you mentioned someone's name."

"Oh, who?" he asks, his face going slightly pale.

"Jessica," she says.

Jackson closes his eyes and rests his head in his hands, and Gabrielle wonders if he's about to pass out again. Suddenly he jumped to his feet and grabbed her by the neck, pushing her back into one of the wood-paneled walls. His drunken strength is terrifying.

"If you even mention that name to me again, I swear to God I'll choke you to death," he says.

"Get your hands off me," Gabrielle says. "You're too drunk to find your way out of this restaurant, let alone hide my body."

Jackson slowly releases his grip and sinks into a chair at the table. He grabs a glass and a bottle of whiskey and pours himself a drink. He swallows it in one gulp and turns to look at her.

"Drink with me," he says.

"I don't drink," Gabrielle says, rubbing her sore neck.

"I'll teach you," Jackson says.

He grabs another bottle of wine and a wine glass and fills the glass to the rim. Gabrielle sighs and sits down. The smell burns her nose, and she winced at the strong taste. She takes another sip, enjoying the way it makes her stomach feel warm. Before she realizes what she's done, she's drained the glass. Jackson pours her another.

Avery looks around the coffee shop. It's on the bottom floor of a trendy but small hotel, and it's decorated in a retro style. Each table sits beside a French window, and the noon sunlight streams in and reflects off the tabletops. Outside the window, some children splash in the pale blue hotel pool.

Sophie is sitting in the far corner, and she waves her hand when she sees Avery. Avery quickly crosses the room and slides into the booth, smiling shyly at Sophie. A small vase with a single daffodil sits in the middle of the table.

"What would you like to drink, miss?" a barista asks.

"Sparkling water, please," Avery says.

"Wow, it's been so long," Sophie says, suddenly misty-eyed. "The last time I saw you, you were this small little girl, and now you're a beautiful, accomplished woman."

"It's so nice to meet a friend of my mother's," Avery says. "You knew each other for so long—you must have been quite close."

"We were friends for more than a decade," Sophie says. "She was one of my closest friends, but then I left to study with a jewelry master in Europe, and your mother and I lost touch. After I finished my studies, I stayed there for a while, and she came abroad too."

Sophie looks down at her espresso cup and sighs. When she looks up, Avery can see a single tear on the older woman's cheek. Avery takes her hand over the table and pats it gently.

"I didn't even know she was in the country," Sophie says. "She didn't tell me she was there, but I eventually found out from some mutual friends. When I saw her, she had changed. She wasn't the woman I remembered at all. She was always so gentle, but suddenly she was stubborn.

"A lot of people found it difficult to be around her. I'm afraid I was one of them. She was suddenly so cold to me like she'd just forgotten about all the years of our friendship. I wondered what had caused such a dramatic change—if it was the failure of her marriage that had turned her bitter or something else, but I never found out."

Avery feels her breathing quicken. Her mother's situation is scarily similar to her own: a sudden personality change, becoming stubborn, forgetting things from the past. It seems too similar to be a coincidence. Is it possible that the toxin in my blood is genetic? Avery wonders. Or is someone trying to make me end up like my mother?

"Can you tell me anything else about her during that time?" Avery asks.

"I'm afraid I don't know much about her life," Sophie says. "She was in a new relationship, but it didn't end well. She found love and seemed to be incredibly happy, but the man's family was strongly opposed to their marriage. Some people said they didn't like her because she was divorced, and others said his family was trying to hide that he was a bastard.

The man proposed to her anyway, but I only saw her a few times after that. She seemed to be glowing with happiness, and she kept talking about plans for her future. She even designed and made a pair of wedding rings. She asked me to keep them in my workshop's safe. They're still there, actually. They're beautiful."

Avery sips her water and tries to process everything Sophie has just told her. Though she's sitting in the sun, she feels cold. She looks down at her arms, and they're covered in goosebumps.

"By the way, I have some of your mother's papers," Sophie says. "I've kept them for her, but it's time to pass them on to you."

Sophie passes Avery a thick, yellow envelope. Avery opens it and pulls out a stack of papers. She immediately recognizes her mother's delicate handwriting. Avery slides the papers back into the envelope and looks at Sophie.

Sophie stirs a sprinkle of sugar into her espresso and puts the spoon on her saucer with a small clink. She sips her espresso and sighs.

"At my show, you called yourself Bryan's sister," she says. "Do you know him very well?"

"He's like the brother I never had," Avery says. "After I lost my mom, I was raised by my nanny. He's her son, so we grew up together.

"Can you get in touch with him?" Sophie asks. "I'd like to see him before I return to Europe."

"It's difficult to get in touch with him, even for me," Avery admits. "Why do you need to talk to him?

"There are just some things I need to confirm," Sophie says. "He's 21, right?"

"Yes, he's younger than me," Avery says.

"If my son were still alive, he would be the same age as Bryan," Sophie says. "When I was forced to put him into the orphanage, I gave him a special pendant. I saw Bryan wearing the same thing at the show. I want to know where he got it."

"Sophie, Bryan is adopted," Avery says.

Sophie freezes. "Can I meet your nanny?" she finally asks.

"You can, but it won't do much good," Avery says. "Nanny is in a coma."