Chapter 2 - The Girl Who Knew My Childhood Secrets Had Been Living Under My NoseI didn't sleep.
Neither did anyone else in the Moretti security network.
By midnight, every entrance into Manhattan had been monitored.
By one, my people had checked hospitals.
By two, bus terminals.
By three, airports.
Nothing.
Maya Jenkins had vanished.
Like Elena Moretti had vanished sixteen years earlier.
It felt too similar.
Too deliberate.
Too cruel.
At four thirty in the morning, Victor found something.
“Boss.”
I looked up from my desk.
“What?”
“This came from the old restaurant cameras.”
He placed a photograph in front of me.
Maya.
She was sitting in the alley behind the restaurant.
Her apron was stained.
Her cheek was bruised.
She was holding the silver locket.
And next to her was a second woman.
Older.
Gray-haired.
Mrs. Gable.
Again.
I stared.
“How did she leave?”
“We don't know.”
“Who picked her up?”
“We're trying to trace the vehicle.”
Then Victor froze.
“What?”
He pointed at the wall.
A security map.
One red dot appeared near the estate.
Inside.
My jaw tightened.
“That's impossible.”
Victor looked at me.
“We've got a breach.”
I stood.
“Where?”
“West wing.”
I walked fast.
The guards followed.
The corridor was empty.
I opened the door to the old library.
The room looked untouched.
Then I saw the book on the floor.
A childhood storybook.
I knew it.
The same book my mother used to read to Elena and me.
I picked it up.
Inside the cover was a handwritten note.
Danny,
If you ever find me, don't trust the first person who says she loves you.
I froze.
No one else used Danny.
No one.
I turned the page.
Another message.
She is closer than you think.
I heard footsteps behind me.
I spun.
Chloe stood in the doorway.
“What are you doing here?”
She looked pale.
“I couldn't sleep.”
“Where did you get that?”
She stared at the book.
“I don't know.”
“Why are you here?”
“You're my fiancé.”
I walked toward her.
“Did you know Maya?”
“No.”
“Did your family?”
She hesitated.
“What does that mean?”
“The waitress.”
“She could be your sister.”
“Could be?”
Chloe shook her head.
“That makes no sense.”
“Why are you so certain?”
She swallowed.
“Because Elena Moretti died.”
I stared.
“You're repeating what my father told you?”
She didn't answer.
I stepped closer.
“My father said she died.”
“Yes.”
“Why did my mother never believe him?”
“I don't know.”
“You knew my family before we met.”
She looked at me.
“My father did business with yours.”
“I know.”
“You're accusing me.”
“I'm asking questions.”
“That's not what this feels like.”
I studied her.
She was afraid.
But fear could be performed.
“What did Maya say to you before she disappeared?”
Chloe looked away.
“I don't remember.”
“Think.”
“I don't know.”
“What did she say?”
“She said you looked familiar.”
I frowned.
“That's all?”
“Yes.”
I knew she was lying.
I could smell it.
Then my phone rang.
Victor.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“We found the car.”
“Where?”
“Brooklyn.”
“Occupied?”
“No.”
“Blood?”
Silence.
“Yes.”
“Whose?”
“We don't know yet.”
I grabbed my coat.
Chloe followed.
“I'm coming.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because this concerns my family.”
She stared.
“So I'm not your family?”
I didn't respond.
She watched me leave.
At the warehouse, the car sat abandoned.
Blood covered the back seat.
Maya's purse lay on the floor.
Her phone was missing.
But there was another item.
A child's hair ribbon.
Red.
I recognized it.
Elena used to wear ribbons exactly like that.
Victor handed it to me.
“Boss.”
I looked at the vehicle.
“Someone moved her.”
“Who?”
“Someone who knows how I think.”
We searched the warehouse.
Nothing.
Then a hidden door opened beneath the floor.
A tunnel.
We followed it.
It led to a room filled with old files.
Photographs.
Maps.
Medical records.
And one wall covered with images of Maya.
Her childhood.
School.
Jobs.
Everything.
I stepped closer.
One photograph stopped me.
Maya was eight years old.
Standing beside Mrs. Gable.
I stared at the date.
Sixteen years earlier.
That was the year Elena disappeared.
I turned.
Victor looked at me.
“She really is your sister.”
I shook my head.
“I need proof.”
He pointed at a file.
A DNA report.
The name:
MAYA JENKINS.
Mother:
Sofia Jenkins.
Father:
Unknown.
Then a second document.
Birth date.
Exactly the same date Elena had been born.
My hands shook.
I opened the DNA comparison.
Probability of full sibling relationship: 99.99%.
I closed my eyes.
My sister was alive.
She hadn't vanished.
She had been hidden.
And someone had rewritten her identity.
Then I saw something worse.
A photograph of Maya wearing the Moretti locket.
But she was standing beside a man.
My father.
Sixteen years ago.
And beneath the photograph was a message:
WE DID NOT STEAL THE GIRL. WE SAVED HER FROM HER BROTHER.
I stared at the words.
My brother?
I didn't have one.
Unless they meant me.
I felt sick.
Someone believed I was the danger.
The story I had spent sixteen years believing might be completely backwards.
May you like
And Maya wasn't hiding from my enemies.
She might have been hiding from me.
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