me from my mother. Delete.
My mother knows best. I must listen to her. I never want to leave her. Delete.
I will never speak. Nothing can change that. I must accept it. Delete!
I’m looking forward to moving to Boise. Delete.
I never should have gotten involved with Psy. With great pleasure, he wiped that one away.
I do not want to ever speak to him again. Delete.
Although careful to cover her tracks, she’d left ghostly impressions of her presence. Should he remove the filaments and spare Cassie the pain of betrayal or leave evidence to help her understand her sudden about-face and change of heart and to protect against further intrusion?
Before he could decide, Cassie shook her head and reached out to him. Psy? Wh-what’s going on?
I don’t want to break up with you! she cried. I didn’t mean it. I love you. I don’t know why I said those things. I love my job. I don’t want to move to Boise.
Relief to have his Cassie back flooded over him. I know. I know.
Her eyes darted to and fro as more freed memories resurfaced, including the wispy vestiges of Rosalie’s perfidy. Was…was…my mother…in my head? Did she do something to me? She rubbed her temple. I feel like she was here, but I don’t remember any conversations.
Yes. Let’s sit down. He led her to a cherrywood floral settee with a curved back that hadn’t been moved to the shop floor yet. Your mother is a Verital.
Oh my god! She is?
Without your consent or awareness, your mother implanted false beliefs, which caused you to reject me, quit your job, and agree to move to Boise. He paused and took her hand. I also have strong reason to believe she planted the idea you would suffer breathing difficulties if you attempted to speak.
She kept me from speaking? Why would she do that? She gaped in horror.
He hated being the messenger of bad news, of having to inflict this on her, but she needed the truth. Why is still a mystery, but I have more information. You’re not bound by any legal guardianship. There is no such arrangement. She lied about that, too.
You have documentation?
He wished he did. But, unfortunately, absence was the only proof. There are no documents to show there are no documents. But I have these. He pulled the death and birth certificates from his pocket.
A crease appeared between her brows as she perused the papers. I don’t understand what I’m looking at. Somebody else has my name?
You have somebody else’s name, he said gently. Rosalie created a false identity for you and for herself. Her real name, her ’Topian name is Mentira.
Her jaw dropped as the implication sank in. Are you saying I’m half alien? Is that why you and I can communicate via telepathy?
No, I think it’s because we’re genmates. From what I can tell, you have no innate telepathic abilities.
You said my mother created fake identities, and her name is Mentira. What’s my real name?
I don’t know, but I think the answers to your past and Mentira’s motives are locked in your psyche somewhere, possibly hidden by the dark spot I noticed earlier. With your permission, I’d like to try to find the answers.
Her expression turned fierce. Yes, of course. I want that, too.
Whatever is there—if there is something there—she went to a lot of trouble to keep it hidden. It won’t be anything good, he warned.
It can’t be anything worse than what I already know—about her trying to sabotage our relationship and preventing me from speaking.
He cupped her face and pressed a kiss for luck to her soft lips. Whatever it is, I’ll be right here with you. Are you ready to begin?
Ready. She nodded.
He squeezed her hand and burrowed deeper into her mind, extending psychic tendrils, seeking out the hidden area. The kiss must have given him luck because he spotted the smudge right away and surrounded it before it could vanish like the last time. He found it surprisingly solid, as if it had existed a long time. Probably it had. Rosalie had been brainwashing Cassie for years.
Circling the barricade, he probed in search of an easy entry point but found only pinpricks of weakness. Mentira had sealed it well. Marshaling his psychic energy, he punched into the fortress, shattering the walls. Suppressed memories poured out, drowning him in shock and horror at what Rosalie had done.
Cassie’s entire body went rigid. Mommy! she cried.
Chapter Nineteen
“Cookie!” Three-year-old Meadow pointed at the teal bear on the kitchen counter.
“Say please,”