One of the names appeared repeatedly.
Daniel Vale.
Another name appeared at the end.
Arthur Sterling.
“Who is Arthur Sterling?”
“The man who owned Sterling Holdings.”
“Ethan’s grandfather?”
Samuel nodded.
“And Daniel worked for him?”
“Yes.”
“So Ethan’s family knew my father.”
“Yes.”
“And my parents were killed after my father discovered what they were doing.”
“Yes.”
I stared at the paper.
“But Ethan…”
Samuel sighed.
“Ethan was only a child when your parents died.”
“So he couldn’t have known.”
“Not then.”
I looked at the photograph again.
“Then why did he disappear?”
“I don’t know.”
I remembered the night.
Ethan had stood in my kitchen.
I had held the pregnancy test.
He had stared at it for nearly a minute.
Then he had whispered:
“I’m sorry.”
Not congratulations.
Not fear.
Not excitement.
Just—
I’m sorry.
The next morning, he was gone.
His phone was disconnected.
His apartment had been emptied.
His car was gone.
I had assumed he abandoned me.
But now I wondered if someone had ordered him to disappear.
At seven the next morning, someone knocked on the front door.
I froze.
Samuel reached for the old wooden baseball bat he kept beside the fireplace.
