54 "I was only eight years old when I found a wallet containing enough money to save my mother and me from eviction. But when I tried to return it to a billionaire, a woman called security to throw me out—until he noticed the paper sticking from my backpack and ordered, “Lock every door. No one leaves.”

The ride in Robert Sterling’s black SUV was completely silent, save for the hum of the engine. I sat in the plush leather backseat, staring out the window. Beside me, Robert kept looking at me, tears occasionally slipping down his cheeks. He tried to offer me snacks from a built-in mini-fridge, but my stomach was too knotted with anxiety to eat.

"Is your mom okay, Sophie?" he asked softly.

"She’s sick," I said, looking at my sneakers. "She coughs a lot. She works two jobs—one at a diner and one cleaning offices at night. That’s why she wasn't home when I left. But she’ll be back soon to help me pack."

Robert squeezed his eyes shut, a look of immense pain crossing his face. "I'm so sorry. If I had only known..."

When the luxury SUV pulled up to our dilapidated apartment complex on Rosewood Avenue, it looked entirely out of place. The paint on the building was peeling, trash bins were overflowing, and shady characters lounged on the corner.

We climbed the creaking, narrow stairs to the third floor. Apartment 3B.

I unlocked the door. "Mom? I'm home."

The apartment was tiny, smelling of cheap lavender cleaner and damp walls. Sitting at the small wooden kitchen table, surrounded by cardboard boxes, was my mother. She looked exhausted, her face pale and her frame thin. When she saw me, relief washed over her face, followed immediately by confusion as she saw the tall, wealthy-looking man standing in our doorway.

"Sophie! Where have you been? I was so worried—"

Her voice cut off. Her eyes locked onto Robert.

The cardboard box she was holding slipped from her hands, spilling old photo albums onto the floor.

"Dad?" she whispered.

"Clara..." Robert choked out, rushing forward.

My mother stood up, but instead of running into his arms, she took a step back, her expression hardening into a defensive shield. "What are you doing here? How did you find me? Did Victoria send you to finish what she started?"

Robert stopped, bewildered. "What? Victoria? Clara, what are you talking about? I’ve been looking for you for eight years! Victoria told me you died in a car crash in Mexico. She showed me the police reports, the dental records, the grave!"

My mother let out a bitter, hollow laugh. "Of course she did. She set me up, Dad. She threatened to kill Sophie—who was just a baby then—if I ever showed my face in Texas again. She staged the crash. She had her thugs drag me out of my apartment, threw me in a car, and told me that if I ever contacted you, Sophie would pay the price."

I stood by the door, my heart pounding. I had never known any of this. My mother had always told me my father had passed away and that we had no other family.

"She did what?" Robert’s voice was deathly quiet, but it carried the weight of a category five hurricane. "Victoria... my own sister..."

"She wanted the inheritance, Dad," Clara explained, tears finally spilling down her cheeks. "Mother’s private estate was willed entirely to me. With me 'dead,' it all went to her. And she knew that if I was alive, you would never hand over the keys of Sterling Energy to her."

Suddenly, the door to our apartment was kicked open.

Three men in dark suits, wearing sunglasses despite the dim hallway, stepped inside. Behind them stood Victoria. She had managed to bypass the lockdown, likely using her own security clearance, and had followed us.

"How touching," Victoria sneered, stepping into our cramped living room. "The family reunion from hell."

Robert spun around, his eyes blazing. "Victoria! You lied to me for eight years! You threatened my daughter! You stole her life!"

"Oh, please, Robert. Don't be so dramatic," Victoria said, casually checking her manicured nails. "Clara was weak. She would have ruined the company. I did what was necessary for the Sterling empire. And now, you’ve brought this little drama out into the open. It's a shame, really."

One of the men in suits pulled back his jacket, revealing a silver handgun tucked into his holster.

"What are you doing, Victoria?" Clara gasped, pulling me behind her back.

"Fixing a loose end," Victoria said coldly. "You see, Robert, you’ve been acting very erratic lately. The board is already concerned. If you, Clara, and this little brat happen to have a tragic accident in this terrible, crime-ridden neighborhood... well, Sterling Energy will finally be mine. Completely."

"You wouldn't dare," Robert snarled, stepping in front of Clara and me. "My driver is downstairs. The police will be here in minutes."

Victoria laughed, a chilling, high-pitched sound. "Your driver works for me, big brother. Who do you think paid for his daughter’s Ivy League tuition? And as for the police... they don't patrol Rosewood Avenue very quickly. By the time they get here, it will just be another tragic house fire."