Chapter 1 - THE MAN WHO KNEW MY NAME
For three full seconds, I honestly thought I had misheard him.
“She and the baby are coming with me.”
The two men in dark suits didn’t react.
The flight attendants did.
One of them actually stepped backward.
I tightened my arms around Sophie.
“I’m sorry, what?”
Ethan Callahan looked at me as if he had just said something perfectly reasonable.
“You’re not going through the main terminal.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“No.”
His mouth almost curved.
“It wasn’t.”
I glanced toward the window.
Chicago lights glittered beneath us.
My sister had texted me twenty-three times about bridesmaid dresses, flowers, and how disappointed Mom would be if I missed rehearsal.
Now the most feared man in Chicago was apparently kidnapping me before breakfast.
“I’m going to my sister’s wedding.”
“I know.”
Every nerve in my body went still.
“How do you know that?”
For the first time, Ethan’s expression changed.
Barely.
But enough.
One of his men leaned closer.
“Boss.”
Ethan ignored him.
“What’s your sister’s name?”
I stared at him.
“You already know, apparently.”
“Rachel.”
Hearing my name from him made my stomach drop harder than turbulence.
I had never introduced myself.
He had called me ma’am on the flight.
Nothing more.
I shifted Sophie higher.
“How do you know my name?”
The landing gear lowered with a mechanical groan.
Ethan looked toward Sophie.
“Because your daughter isn’t the first Morales baby I’ve seen.”
I stopped breathing.
“What does that mean?”
He didn’t answer.
The plane touched down.
The moment we stopped moving, his security detail formed around us.
Passengers watched.
Nobody complained anymore.
Not the businessman.
Not the woman who had sighed.
Nobody.
Ethan stood and took my diaper bag before I could stop him.
“Walk with me.”
“I’m not going anywhere until you explain.”
His voice lowered.
“If we leave through the public terminal, there are three men waiting near baggage claim.”
My blood went cold.
“For you?”
“No.”
He looked directly at Sophie.
“For her.”
I almost laughed because the alternative was screaming.
“She’s six months old.”
“I know.”
“Who would be waiting for my baby?”
His jaw tightened.
“Someone who thinks she belongs to them.”
The cabin seemed to narrow around me.
I grabbed the seat.
“No.”
Ethan stepped closer.
“You need to trust me for ten minutes.”
“I don’t know you.”
“That may be the only reason you’re still alive.”
Then one of his men handed him a phone.
Ethan looked at the screen.
His face became terrifyingly still.
“What?”
He turned it toward me.
Security footage showed three men near baggage claim.
One held a photograph.
Even from the grainy image, I recognized it.
Me leaving my apartment in East L.A.
Sophie strapped to my chest.
The picture had been taken two days earlier.
May you like
And written beneath it were four words:
BRING THE CALLAHAN CHILD HOME.
