Chapter 1 - THE BOY THE MAFIA BOSS ALREADY KNEW
The message from Bernadette sat on my phone like a threat.
Come to the mansion tonight. Bring your son. Mr. Rourke has asked to meet him.
I read it three times.
Then I looked through the hospital window at Toby.
He was sitting cross-legged beneath a thin white blanket, folding another paper airplane while blood slowly moved through the line beneath his collarbone.
He looked small.
Too small for hospital words like transfusion, marrow testing, and hemoglobin count.
"Mom?"
I forced myself to smile.
"Yeah?"
"Why are you staring at your phone like it insulted you?"
I laughed despite myself.
"My boss wants to meet you."
Toby's eyes widened.
"The scary rich guy?"
"Toby."
"What? You said his house has guards."
"I said security."
"That's rich-person language for guards."
I rubbed my forehead.
Seven years old and already impossible.
At six that evening, the hospital discharged him with instructions I had memorized before the nurse finished speaking.
Watch for fever.
Watch for weakness.
Watch for breathing problems.
Watch for everything.
By seven-thirty, a black sedan sent by Bernadette was waiting outside our apartment.
I almost refused it.
Then Toby looked at the freezing rain and said, "Our car makes the death noise when you turn left."
So we got in.
Rourke Manor looked even more intimidating at night.
Stone walls.
Black iron gates.
Tall windows glowing gold against the darkness.
Toby pressed his face against the glass.
"Do people actually live here?"
"Apparently."
"Why?"
I had no answer.
Bernadette met us at the front entrance.
The moment she saw Toby, something strange crossed her face.
Not pity.
Recognition.
She crouched.
"You must be Tobias."
He nodded.
"Everybody calls me Toby."
Her eyes filled.
"Of course they do."
I noticed.
"Bernadette?"
She stood too quickly.
"Mr. Rourke is waiting."
My stomach tightened.
We followed her through the mansion.
Past the silver tray I had broken that morning.
Past the grand staircase.
Past two armed men who looked at Toby and immediately looked away.
Then we entered the library.
Damien Rourke stood beside the fireplace.
He was forty-three, tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in a black shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearms.
I had seen him twice since being hired.
Both times, the entire room changed when he entered.
Tonight, he wasn't looking at me.
He was looking at Toby.
His face had gone completely still.
Toby stared back.
Then whispered to me:
"Mom, why does he look mad?"
"I'm not mad," Damien said.
Toby blinked.
"You heard me?"
"Unfortunately."
Toby considered that.
Then smiled.
Something flickered across Damien's face.
Pain.
He stepped closer.
"How old are you?"
"Seven."
Damien's jaw tightened.
"When's your birthday?"
"March fourteenth."
The color left his face.
Bernadette lowered her head.
I noticed both reactions.
"What is happening?"
Damien looked toward me.
"What's Toby's full name?"
"Tobias James Miller."
"His father's name?"
My whole body stiffened.
"That's personal."
Damien nodded.
"You're right."
He looked back at Toby.
Then his eyes moved to the paper airplane in my son's hand.
"Where did you learn to fold that?"
Toby shrugged.
"My grandpa taught Mom. Mom taught me."
Damien stepped closer.
"Can I see it?"
Toby handed it over.
Damien unfolded the paper carefully.
Then froze.
Inside, Toby had drawn the strange symbol he drew on almost everything.
A circle split by three diagonal lines.
Damien's hands began shaking.
"Where did you see this?"
Toby frowned.
"I don't know. I just know it."
My stomach tightened.
"What does it mean?"
Damien looked toward Bernadette.
She whispered:
"Oh, God."
I stepped between them.
"Someone needs to tell me what is happening right now."
Damien stared at the symbol.
Then slowly turned toward me.
His voice became rough.
"Nine years ago, my younger brother disappeared inside the Kesler Building."
My blood ran cold.
May you like
He looked at Toby again.
"And that symbol was tattooed on his left wrist."
