Chapter 1 - THE MAN WHO BROKE DOWN THE DOORThe heavy wooden door exploded inward just as Evelyn Blackwood thought she might pass out.
Wood splintered across the marble foyer.
Cold daylight flooded the mansion.
And through the broken doorway stepped a man Evelyn had never seen before.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Black suit. No tie. His dark hair was touched with gray at the temples, and there was something in his face that made him look less like a visitor and more like someone who had arrived expecting trouble.
His eyes found Evelyn immediately.
She was lying on the expensive Persian rug, one hand beneath the enormous curve of her thirty-eight-week belly, the other stretched toward the handbag she had failed to reach.
Her light maternity dress was damp with sweat.
Another contraction struck.
Evelyn screamed.
The stranger crossed the foyer in seconds and dropped beside her.
“How far apart?”
She barely understood him.
“What?”
“The contractions.”
“Two… maybe three minutes.”
His eyes dropped to her belly.
“Twins?”
She nodded.
Something hardened in his expression.
“Where is your husband?”
Evelyn gave a breathless, disbelieving laugh.
“He left.”
The man looked toward the ruined lock.
“Who locked the door?”
“My husband.”
For the first time, the stranger seemed genuinely shocked.
“And his mother.”
He stared at her.
Evelyn heard herself saying it again because even now it sounded impossible.
“They locked me inside.”
Another contraction seized her.
She grabbed his sleeve.
“The babies are coming.”
The stranger pulled out his phone.
“I’m calling an ambulance.”
“No.”
His eyes snapped toward her.
“My phone.”
“What?”
“My handbag. Please.”
He grabbed it from the floor.
Evelyn fumbled for her phone.
Garrett had not called.
Not once.
Her husband had stepped over her trembling legs, looked down at her like she was an inconvenience, and told her not to ruin his day.
Then he had locked the door from outside.
Evelyn dialed him anyway.
Straight to voicemail.
She called again.
Nothing.
The stranger watched her.
“He’s not answering?”
“He thinks it’s a false alarm.”
The man’s jaw tightened.
“Your water broke?”
“Not yet.”
“Any bleeding?”
“No.”
“Dizziness?”
“Yes.”
“Vision changes?”
“No.”
He was asking questions too efficiently.
Evelyn stared at him.
“Are you a doctor?”
“No.”
“Paramedic?”
“No.”
“Then who are you?”
For the first time, he hesitated.
“Victor Hale.”
The name meant nothing to her.
“Why are you here?”
His expression changed again.
“I came to see you.”
Evelyn froze.
“You came to see me?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know me?”
Before Victor could answer, another violent contraction ripped through her body.
She cried out.
Then warmth suddenly spread beneath her.
Evelyn looked down.
Victor did too.
Her water had broken.
He immediately dialed emergency services.
“Thirty-eight-week twin pregnancy, active labor, contractions approximately two minutes apart, membranes ruptured.”
He gave the Blackwood Mansion address.
The dispatcher asked something.
Victor looked toward Evelyn.
“Any complications during the pregnancy?”
“No.”
“Twin positions?”
“Baby A is head-down. Baby B was breech at my last appointment.”
Victor repeated it.
Then he looked toward the driveway.
“They’re eight minutes away.”
Evelyn almost laughed.
“Eight minutes?”
“You’ll make it.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No.”
His honesty frightened her.
He took off his suit jacket, folded it, and placed it behind her head.
For a few seconds, the enormous mansion became strangely quiet.
No Eleanor.
No Garrett.
No clicking platinum watch.
No cold voice telling her an auction mattered more than two unborn babies.
Just Victor.
A stranger.
The only person who had come when she screamed.
Evelyn stared at him.
“You said you came to see me.”
Victor nodded.
“Why?”
His eyes moved toward her phone.
“Did Garrett tell you where he was going?”
“The Blackwood charity auction.”
Victor became still.
“What auction?”
Evelyn blinked.
“The annual Blackwood Heritage Auction.”
“That isn’t today.”
She stared.
“What?”
“It was postponed yesterday.”
“No. Eleanor said—”
“I know what Eleanor said.”
“How?”
Victor took out his own phone.
He showed her the Blackwood Foundation website.
A notice sat across the top.
AUCTION RESCHEDULED — SEPTEMBER 14.
Evelyn read it twice.
Her skin went cold.
“Then where did they go?”
Victor looked at her for several seconds.
“That’s one of the reasons I came.”
He pulled a folded photograph from inside his shirt pocket.
It showed Garrett leaving a private bank in downtown Manhattan forty-eight hours earlier.
Beside him was Eleanor.
And between them was a man Evelyn recognized immediately.
Her father’s former attorney.
A man she had not seen since her father died eight years ago.
Martin Keene.
Evelyn’s breath caught.
“What is this?”
Victor’s answer was interrupted by distant sirens.
He leaned closer.
“Your husband isn’t going to an auction, Evelyn.”
“Then where is he going?”
Victor looked at the broken door.
Then back at her.
“To take something that belongs to you.”
The pain in Evelyn’s stomach suddenly felt less frightening than the coldness spreading through her chest.
“What?”
Victor’s voice dropped.
“Your father left you far more than you were ever told.”
May you like
The sirens grew louder.
“And Garrett has spent six years making sure you never found out.”
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