Chapter 3 - The Woman in Ivory
Emma woke with a throbbing pain in the back of her head.
For a moment, she could not remember where she was.
Then she smelled the damp stone.
The cold air.
The rusted pipes.
Panic surged through her.
She was lying on the floor of a small basement room. Her wrists were tied behind her back with thick plastic restraints. A single bare bulb flickered above her.
Across the room sat Ethan.
His face was pale. His dark hair was messy. One wrist was wrapped in a dirty bandage.
“Emma,” he whispered.
She pushed herself upright. “Ethan. Are you okay?”
He nodded weakly, but his eyes said otherwise.
“I thought she hurt you.”
“I’m okay,” Emma said, though she was far from okay. “Did she hurt you?”
“She gets angry,” he said quietly. “But Mr. Graves doesn’t let her hit me too much.”
Emma’s heart broke.
She moved closer to him, dragging her knees across the floor.
“Listen to me,” she said. “We are getting out of here.”
Ethan looked toward the door. “Nobody gets out.”
“Why do you say that?”
He hesitated.
Then he pointed toward a dark corner of the room.
Emma followed his finger.
There were children’s drawings taped to the wall.
Old drawings.
Some were faded, others yellowed with age. One showed a little girl in a blue dress standing beside a tall woman with black hair. Another showed a house with no windows and a big red X over the front door.
At the bottom of one drawing, written in shaky handwriting, were the words:
MOMMY SAID DON’T TRUST HER.
Emma’s throat tightened.
“Who made these?”
Ethan swallowed. “My sister.”
Emma stared at him.
William Sterling had only one child.
At least, that was what everyone believed.
“Ethan,” Emma said carefully, “you have a sister?”
He nodded.
“Her name was Lily.”
The name struck Emma like ice water.
Emma had heard rumors among old staff members years ago. William’s first wife, Caroline Sterling, had allegedly suffered a tragic accident shortly after giving birth to twins. One baby, Lily, had supposedly died in the hospital. Caroline never recovered emotionally and died in a car crash two years later.
It had always been spoken of as a terrible family tragedy.
But now Emma understood.
“What happened to Lily?” she asked.
Ethan’s eyes filled with tears.
“She didn’t die,” he whispered. “Mom found out Isabella was taking money from Dad’s company. Isabella used to work for Dad before they got married. She was in legal affairs.”
Emma listened, barely breathing.
“Mom said Isabella was dangerous. She said she was pretending to help Dad, but she wanted everything. Then one night, Lily disappeared.”
“How old was she?”
“Six,” Ethan said.
Emma did the math.
That was three years ago.
“And your mother?”
“Mom tried to tell Dad. But Isabella made everyone think Mom was sick. She gave her medicine that made her sleep all the time. Then Mom had the car accident.”
Emma’s hands went numb.
The official story was a drunk driver.
But perhaps there had never been a drunk driver.
Perhaps Isabella had arranged it all.
Before Emma could ask more, the door opened.
Isabella entered alone.
She had changed clothes. The wedding gown was gone, replaced by a black silk dress and high heels. Her dark hair was pulled neatly behind her neck. She looked less like a bride now and more like someone attending a funeral.
She held a tray with two sandwiches, a bottle of water, and a small silver case.
“Dinner,” she said.
Emma glared at her. “You’re going to prison.”
Isabella laughed quietly.
“That is what people always say when they have never met real power.”
She placed the tray on a table.
“You think William Sterling became a billionaire because he was kind?” she asked. “You think this family built towers and luxury apartments by playing fair?”
“You kidnapped his son.”
“I saved him from becoming William’s weakness.”
“He is nine years old.”
“And he owns half of everything William has.”
Emma looked at Ethan.
Isabella noticed.
“William’s will is very specific,” she continued. “If something happens to William, Ethan becomes the primary heir. Unless he is deemed mentally unstable or legally unfit.”
Emma understood.
Isabella wanted Ethan to disappear. To be labeled disturbed. To be removed from the inheritance.
“Where is Lily?” Emma demanded.
For the first time, Isabella’s expression shifted.
Only slightly.
But Emma saw it.
Fear.
“She is not your concern.”
“She’s alive,” Emma said.
Isabella’s face hardened. “Eat your food.”
Then she turned to Ethan.
“Tomorrow, you will sign the papers.”
“I don’t know how,” Ethan whispered.
“You will make a mark. That is enough.”
“What papers?” Emma asked.
“Medical documents,” Isabella replied. “They will say Ethan has been suffering from severe emotional instability since his mother’s death. He will be sent to a private treatment facility.”
Emma knew exactly what that meant.
A place where nobody would ever find him.
“You won’t get away with this,” she said.
Isabella stepped close.
“You already found the footage,” she whispered. “But you don’t have it anymore.”
Emma’s heart sank.
The hard drive.
Mr. Graves had taken it.
Isabella smiled again.
“Tomorrow morning, William will announce that Ethan needs treatment. The press will believe him. The board will support him. And by next week, everyone will forget Ethan Sterling ever existed.”
Then she walked out.
The door locked behind her.
Ethan started crying quietly.
Emma moved beside him, putting her shoulder against his.
“We need a plan,” she said.
“I tried before,” Ethan whispered. “There’s no way out.”
Emma looked around the room.
The old basement walls.
The pipes.
The flickering bulb.
Then she noticed something near the ceiling.
A narrow ventilation grate.
Too small for an adult.
But perhaps not too small for a nine-year-old boy.
“Ethan,” Emma said, lowering her voice, “can you climb?”
He looked up.
May you like
For the first time all night, a spark of hope appeared in his eyes.
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