Chapter 1 - THE WOMAN ON THE COT
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The woman's wrist was cold.
Too cold.
I pressed two fingers against the side of her neck and felt a pulse so faint I almost thought I had imagined it.
“Maya.”
The little girl stood frozen in the doorway.
Her muddy feet were planted on the cracked concrete floor.
The two cans of infant formula she had fought so hard to buy were still clutched against her chest.
“Who is she?”
Maya looked at the woman on the cot.
“My mommy.”
I looked back at the unconscious stranger.
Then at the bracelet.
A tarnished gold band.
The Sterling crest.
And underneath it, a tiny engraved letter.
C.
Clara.
My sister.
The woman I had spent five years believing was dead.
My entire body went numb.
“What's your mother's name?”
“Clara.”
Maya said it softly.
“Clara Vance.”
Vance.
Not Sterling.
That was the name she had used after disappearing.
The name we had been told was an alias.
The name my father had insisted never be spoken again.
I immediately called my private physician.
“Dr. Hayes, emergency. I need you at my location now.”
I gave the address.
He went silent.
“Gabriel, what kind of emergency?”
“My sister.”
Another silence.
“Your sister?”
“Yes.”
“I thought Clara…”
“So did I.”
I hung up.
Maya was still staring at me.
“Are you mad?”
The question surprised me.
“Why would I be mad?”
“Because I brought you here.”
I crouched in front of her.
“You didn't do anything wrong.”
“I had to get milk.”
“I know.”
“My brothers were hungry.”
“I know.”
Her lower lip trembled.
She looked toward the mattress.
Two newborn boys lay bundled together beneath a threadbare blanket.
One was crying.
The other was barely moving.
I crossed the room immediately.
I wrapped the crying baby in my coat.
Then I checked the second infant.
“Gabriel?”
I turned.
Clara had opened her eyes.
Barely.
Her lips moved.
“Maya…”
“She's safe,” I said.
Clara stared at me.
Her expression changed from fear to disbelief.
“Gabriel?”
I couldn't answer.
Five years of grief had turned into one impossible moment.
She tried to sit up.
Pain forced her back down.
“No.”
I grabbed her shoulder gently.
“Stay still.”
“You found me.”
“I found your daughter.”
Clara looked at Maya.
Then at me.
“You can't be here.”
“Apparently I can.”
“You have to leave.”
“Not without you.”
Her eyes filled with panic.
“You don't understand.”
“Then explain.”
She looked toward the door.
“They found us.”
The hallway outside creaked.
Everyone froze.
A vehicle engine rumbled in the street.
Clara's hand tightened around my wrist.
“They're here.”
I looked at Maya.
“Take your brothers.”
Maya hugged the formula cans tighter.
“I can't carry both.”
I lifted one baby.
She carried the other.
Then I heard footsteps climbing the stairs.
Slow.
Heavy.
More than one person.
Clara whispered:
“Gabriel…”
“What?”
“They aren't here for me.”
“Who are they here for?”
She looked at the babies.
Her voice broke.
“They're here for the boy.”
I stared.
“Why?”
“Because he is the last Sterling heir.”
The footsteps stopped outside the door.
A shadow crossed the crack beneath it.
Then a man's voice spoke calmly from the hallway.
“Clara?”
I looked at my sister.
She was terrified.
The voice continued:
“You've had five years to run.”
A pause.
“Now give us the child.”
My blood turned cold.
Because I knew that voice.
It belonged to a man who had attended my father's table for twenty-two years.
A man I trusted more than almost anyone.
My family's chief strategist.
May you like
Victor Hale.
And he had just found us.
