Chapter 1 - My Eight-Year-Old Twins Called the Father They Had Never Met While I Lay Unconscious—Then He Heard Their Birthday and Warned Us Someone Already Knew Who They WerePain exploded behind my right eye.
One second, I was studying blueprints in my home office.
The next, my coffee mug shattered on the hardwood floor, papers flew from my desk, and the room tilted beneath me.
I reached for the drafting table.
My fingers closed around empty air.
I hit the floor hard.
First my knees.
Then my shoulder.
As darkness crawled across my vision, the office door burst open.
“Mom?”
Hazel's frightened voice sounded far away.
Iris dropped beside me and shook my arm.
“Mommy, wake up!”
I tried to tell them it was only a migraine.
I tried to whisper Mrs. Peterson's name so they would run next door.
But my body refused to obey.
Hazel grabbed my phone.
She unlocked it with their birthday.
Iris was already speaking to the emergency dispatcher.
“She fell down,” Iris said, fighting tears. “She won't wake up.”
Hazel scrolled through the contacts.
Her eyes stopped on the emergency contact pinned above every other name.
Griffin Drake.
I had saved his number eight years ago.
I had never deleted it.
Before I could stop her, Hazel pressed call.
Three rings.
Then a deep voice answered.
“Sloan?”
Hearing him say my name after all those years hurt more than the pain in my skull.
“My mommy fell down,” Hazel cried. “She won't wake up.”
Griffin's voice changed instantly.
“Tell me your address.”
Hazel did.
A heavy silence followed.
Then:
“Lock every window. Don't open the door for anyone except the paramedics.”
Hazel frowned.
“Why?”
“I'm coming.”
“Why do you care about my mommy?”
His answer came low and rough.
“Because she once meant everything to me.”
I closed my eyes.
The girls couldn't see my face.
Maybe that was mercy.
Nine months before my daughters were born, I disappeared from Griffin's life with one voicemail and a lie.
I told him I'd accepted a job across the country.
I told him I needed a fresh start.
I didn't tell him I was pregnant.
I convinced myself I was protecting my children from his world.
From blood debts.
Rival families.
Men who smiled before pulling a trigger.
At the time, I believed leaving was the bravest thing I could do.
Eight years later, lying helpless on my office floor, I realized it might have been the biggest mistake of my life.
Griffin stayed on the phone.
“What are your names?”
“Hazel and Iris.”
“You're sisters?”
“Twins,” Iris answered.
“How old?”
“Eight.”
Silence.
“When is your birthday?”
“December fourteenth,” Hazel said.
I heard Griffin inhale sharply through the phone.
Then silence again.
“Hazel?”
“Yes?”
“Are you wearing matching bracelets?”
She looked down.
“Yes.”
“Who gave them to you?”
“Mommy.”
“What do they say?”
Hazel read the tiny engraving.
“G.D.”
Another silence.
Then Griffin's voice became colder.
“Put the phone on speaker.”
Hazel obeyed.
His voice filled the room.
“Girls, I need you to listen carefully.”
Iris whispered:
“Okay.”
“Does your mother keep a black notebook?”
Hazel looked around.
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“In her desk.”
“Don't touch it.”
He paused.
“Is there anything else?”
Hazel scanned the office.
Her eyes landed on the floor.
“Mommy has an envelope.”
My heart stopped.
Griffin's breathing changed.
“What kind?”
“Black.”
“What is written on it?”
Hazel crawled closer.
I tried to move.
Nothing.
She brushed aside papers.
The envelope lay beneath my desk.
A silver crest was pressed into the wax.
Hazel read the words.
“WE KNOW WHO THE GIRLS ARE.”
Griffin went silent.
Then:
“Hazel, do exactly what I tell you.”
“Okay.”
“Move away from the desk.”
She stood.
“Don't open that envelope.”
“I won't.”
“Lock the office door.”
Iris rushed to it.
“And don't answer anyone except the paramedics.”
Hazel asked:
“Mister Griffin?”
“Yes?”
“Are you really our daddy?”
The room disappeared.
Even the pain behind my eye seemed to stop.
Silence.
Then Griffin whispered:
“What did you say?”
“Mom never told us who our dad is.”
She looked at Iris.
“Iris says we have your eyes.”
Griffin didn't answer.
Finally, his voice came.
“Listen to me.”
It sounded different now.
Not soft.
Not shocked.
Dangerously controlled.
“If you're my daughters, then someone has spent eight years lying to all three of us.”
Iris frowned.
“Why?”
Griffin's voice dropped.
“Because I have enemies.”
Hazel asked:
“Are they going to hurt us?”
“No.”
He said it immediately.
“Not if I get there first.”
I heard car doors slam through the phone.
Men shouted in the background.
Griffin was moving.
Fast.
Hazel asked:
“How long?”
“Seven minutes.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I'm already on the road.”
I tried to speak.
A sound finally escaped my throat.
Griffin heard it.
“Sloan?”
I couldn't answer.
“Sloan, stay with me.”
My eyes opened slightly.
The room blurred.
His voice came through the phone.
“You should have told me.”
I wanted to say I was sorry.
I wanted to tell him why.
Instead, darkness took me again.
The next thing I remember was the smell of antiseptic.
Hospital.
Bright lights.
A nurse.
A machine beeping beside me.
I opened my eyes.
“Where are my daughters?”
The nurse smiled.
“They're safe.”
I tried to sit up.
“How long?”
“Three hours.”
“And their father?”
The nurse hesitated.
“He's here.”
My heart stopped.
“Griffin?”
She nodded.
“He's been waiting outside.”
Before I could answer, the door opened.
Griffin Drake walked in.
Eight years had changed him.
He was broader.
Harder.
A scar ran along his jaw.
His dark hair was shorter.
His expression was colder.
But his eyes were the same.
Those eyes had once made me forget every warning I had ever heard.
Now they looked at me like I was the answer to the question that had haunted him for eight years.
“Hello, Sloan.”
I swallowed.
“Griffin.”
He looked at me.
Then at the door.
“Why did you disappear?”
I couldn't answer.
“Why didn't you tell me about them?”
“I thought I was protecting them.”
“You made the decision alone.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I loved you.”
His expression changed.
“You loved me?”
“I loved you enough to know your world would destroy them.”
He stepped closer.
“My world?”
“Yes.”
He looked away.
“My world has never been the only danger.”
That made me frown.
“What does that mean?”
He pulled a photograph from his jacket.
A picture of Hazel and Iris sleeping in their bedroom.
Taken that morning.
I stared.
“Who took this?”
“That's what I'm trying to find out.”
He placed another photograph beside it.
My house.
Taken two weeks earlier.
Then another.
Me leaving the grocery store.
Then another.
Hazel at school.
Iris at ballet.
I felt sick.
“Someone has been watching us.”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“I'm not sure.”
“Why?”
Griffin looked at me.
“Because someone knew about the girls before I did.”
He pointed toward the black envelope.
“It carries the crest of the Bellmont family.”
I recognized the name.
“Your enemy?”
He nodded.
“My most dangerous one.”
“What do they want?”
His answer frightened me.
“They don't want you.”
May you like
He stared at me.
“They want the girls.”
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