Chapter 2 - The Mafia Boss Told Me My Missing Sister Had Entered His House Eleven Months Ago—and Never LeftI didn't sleep.
Not even for a minute.
Adrian had placed me in a guest room with two armed guards outside.
It should have frightened me.
Instead, the only thing I could think about was the photograph.
Emma.
My sister.
Dead?
Alive?
Somewhere in this house?
I walked downstairs at six in the morning.
Adrian was already awake.
He sat in the library, reading reports.
When he saw me, he closed the folder.
“You should be resting.”
“Is Emma alive?”
He didn't answer.
I stepped closer.
“Is she?”
“Yes.”
My knees nearly gave out.
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
“What do you mean?”
“She was here.”
“When?”
“Eleven months ago.”
“Why?”
“She asked for help.”
“What kind?”
“Protection.”
I stared.
“From whom?”
He looked toward the windows.
“People who wanted her dead.”
My heart pounded.
“Why didn't you call me?”
“She didn't want you involved.”
“That doesn't make sense.”
“It does if she believed someone was watching you.”
I shook my head.
“Who?”
Adrian stood.
“That's what I've been trying to determine.”
He walked to the desk.
A file waited there.
My sister's name appeared on the cover.
EMMA HARPER.
I touched it.
Inside were photographs.
Emma entering the mansion.
Emma speaking with Adrian.
Emma carrying a suitcase.
Then nothing.
No departure.
No death.
No body.
Just missing.
“Where did she go?”
“I told you. I don't know.”
“Then why is her file here?”
“Because I investigated.”
“You lied to me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn't know who you were.”
I stared.
“You invited me into your home.”
“Because my daughter chose you.”
That silenced me.
He continued.
“Lila's mother died when she was two.”
“I know.”
“She hasn't trusted a woman since.”
“Why?”
“Because the last woman who tried to care for her was connected to someone who wanted access to me.”
My stomach tightened.
“What happened?”
“She was kidnapped.”
“Lila?”
“No.”
“The caregiver.”
I nodded.
Adrian's face darkened.
“She was killed.”
I understood.
That was why he was careful.
Why there were cameras.
Why every door had locks.
Why the men watched constantly.
“Do you think Emma betrayed you?”
He hesitated.
“I don't know.”
“Then why keep her file?”
“Because I believed she was telling the truth.”
I stared at him.
“And now?”
“Now someone is trying to make me believe she lied.”
He opened another file.
Inside were bank transfers.
Names.
Shell companies.
One company stood out.
Harper Medical Consulting.
I stared.
“That belongs to my uncle.”
“Your uncle?”
“My mother's brother.”
Adrian nodded.
“He's connected to your family's finances.”
“How?”
“He loaned your father money.”
“My father died twelve years ago.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
Adrian looked at me.
“Because the debt was transferred.”
“To whom?”
“To Emma.”
I felt sick.
“My sister owed money?”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“Someone used her identity.”
My hands trembled.
“Who?”
Adrian placed another document in front of me.
A signature.
Emma's.
It authorized the transfer of several million dollars.
I stared.
“She never signed this.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Because your sister was left-handed.”
I looked up.
The signature was right-handed.
Adrian knew.
That detail mattered.
“How much money?”
“Fourteen million.”
My throat tightened.
“From where?”
“Your father's old company.”
“What company?”
“Harper Medical.”
I laughed.
“I didn't know we had a company.”
“You didn't.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your father had several hidden assets.”
I stared.
“How did you know?”
“Emma told me.”
The room became silent.
I sat down.
“My father?”
Adrian nodded.
“He wasn't the man you thought he was.”
I remembered childhood.
My father's strict rules.
His locked office.
His warnings.
His late-night phone calls.
I had assumed it was business.
Maybe it was.
Maybe not.
“Emma knew all of this?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn't she tell me?”
“She thought knowing would make you a target.”
I looked at Adrian.
“And now?”
“You already are.”
The words were simple.
Terrifying.
I swallowed.
“Why?”
“Because your name appears on a trust.”
“What trust?”
He opened a final file.
My name.
GRACE HARPER.
A trust worth almost sixty million dollars.
I stared.
“That isn't mine.”
“It is.”
“I don't have sixty million dollars.”
“You don't know what you have.”
I shook my head.
“Who created it?”
“Your mother.”
“My mother?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because she believed your father would eventually destroy everything.”
I laughed.
This couldn't be real.
My entire life had been built on assumptions.
My family was ordinary.
My father was difficult.
My sister disappeared.
I was poor.
I was alone.
Now a mafia boss was telling me my family had hidden millions and that my missing sister had been trying to protect me.
Then Lila came into the library wearing pink pajamas.
She walked directly toward me.
“Mommy.”
My throat tightened.
“Hi.”
She climbed into my lap.
Adrian watched.
His expression softened.
“Did you sleep?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“You weren't there.”
She looked at me.
“You were.”
Adrian looked away.
Lila touched my cheek.
“You're staying?”
I didn't know how to answer.
Adrian said:
“For now.”
Lila smiled.
“Good.”
Then she whispered:
“Daddy likes you.”
I nearly choked.
Adrian closed his eyes.
“Lila.”
“What?”
“Enough.”
She giggled.
For the first time since I entered the house, Adrian looked embarrassed.
I couldn't help smiling.
Then the moment ended.
A security guard entered.
“Boss.”
Adrian turned.
“What?”
“We found the car.”
“Whose?”
“Ms. Harper's.”
My blood froze.
“My car?”
The guard nodded.
“It was parked three blocks from the shelter.”
“What about it?”
“Someone searched it.”
Adrian went still.
“What did they take?”
The guard hesitated.
“Nothing.”
I frowned.
“Then why search it?”
He looked at Adrian.
“Because someone left something.”
My heart pounded.
The guard handed him a plastic bag.
Inside was a photograph.
Me.
Standing at the bus shelter.
Taken from across the street.
On the back, handwritten:
SHE HAS THE KEY.
Adrian stared at it.
I did too.
“I don't have any key.”
He looked at me.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Then he noticed my grandmother's poetry book sticking out of my backpack.
He took it.
Opened it.
A brass key fell onto the table.
I froze.
I had carried that book for years.
I had never opened the binding.
Adrian picked up the key.
A number was engraved on it.
614.
He looked at me.
“Do you know what that is?”
“No.”
He looked toward the guard.
“Find out.”
The man left.
Adrian turned back.
Then he asked:
“Grace, what exactly did your mother leave you?”
I shook my head.
“I thought she left me a book.”
He held up the key.
“Apparently she left you something else.”
The door opened.
Another guard entered.
His expression was grim.
“We found the locker.”
Adrian looked at him.
“And?”
The guard swallowed.
“It's empty.”
“Who opened it?”
May you like
The guard looked at me.
“Your sister.”
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