Chapter 1
An eight-year-old girl carried my unconscious son into my hospital.
That was the first thing I saw.
Bare feet.
Scraped knees.
A torn cardigan.
And Noah hanging across her back like his body weighed nothing because fear had convinced hers it couldn't stop.
“Mr. Angelo…”
Lily Carter was crying so hard she could barely breathe.
“Please help Noah.”
I was halfway out of the consultation corridor before the doctors reached them.
Noah was fourteen.
Tall.
Athletic.
Nearly twice Lily's size.
Yet somehow she had brought him through the front entrance herself.
Doctors lifted him onto a stretcher.
I caught Lily before she collapsed.
“Where's Emma?”
Her mother had worked in my estate for almost nine years.
Lily looked behind her.
Not toward the entrance.
Toward the doors as if she expected someone to follow.
That was when Helena appeared.
My aunt crossed the atrium with the kind of fury people usually reserve for enemies.
She raised one hand.
Lily dropped instantly.
Crouched.
Covered her head.
Before Helena even touched her.
I stopped breathing.
Children don't invent that movement.
They learn it.
“Keep the maid's brat away from him.”
Helena reached again.
I stepped forward.
Then Noah moved.
His eyes opened weakly.
“Dad…”
I turned.
He lifted one shaking hand.
Pointed at Helena.
“She hit Lily.”
His voice was barely there.
“I got between them.”
Dominic moved immediately.
Too immediately.
My cousin charged toward the stretcher.
I stepped between them.
He swung.
Bad decision.
I slipped outside the punch and hit him once.
He flew backward into the patient-comfort rack.
Blankets burst from the shelves.
Pillows rolled across the marble.
Storage baskets scattered everywhere.
Helena grabbed Lily's arm.
I tore her hand away and slapped her so hard she crashed sideways into the art display.
Foam sculptures fell.
Acrylic panels folded down.
Padded blocks slid across the atrium.
Nobody spoke.
Not the capos.
Not the nurses.
Not Helena.
I looked at her.
“Someone who treats children like that doesn't deserve to exist.”
For the first time in my life, Helena looked afraid of me.
Then Lily grabbed my sleeve.
Her fingers were freezing.
“Mr. Angelo…”
I looked down.
She glanced toward Noah.
Then toward Dominic.
“Don't let him take Noah back home.”
Dominic stopped trying to stand.
I looked at him.
“What does that mean?”
Lily's entire body shook.
She opened her mouth.
Helena shouted:
“Enough.”
Too late.
Lily whispered:
“Noah saw the basement room.”
Everything inside me went still.
My estate had twelve basement rooms.
Eleven were on the plans.
May you like
One wasn't.
And only six people in the Castellano family were supposed to know it existed.
