Chapter 1
The crystal chandeliers flooded the ballroom with blinding light.
They glinted off marble floors and diamond necklaces alike.
Laughter echoed off high ceilings—rich, careless, loud.
I was Emma Torres.
In my crisp housekeeping uniform and bright yellow gloves, I moved like a ghost among them.
My tray was stacked high with empty champagne glasses.
No one really looked at me.
To them, I was just part of the furniture.
At the center of it all stood William Sterling.
Real estate billionaire.
The most talked-about man in New York.
Right beside him was his new wife, Isabella.
She wore ivory satin that flowed like milk.
Her smile was perfect.
Too perfect.
Only a month had passed since their wedding.
And already, every trace of his late wife seemed wiped clean away.
I slipped into the staff hallway.
The music faded behind me.
Then I heard it.
A tiny sound.
Faint.
Weak.
Almost buried in the walls.
A muffled cry.
Not a scream.
Not a shout.
Just a broken, exhausted sob.
The cry of a child.
My blood ran cold.
I knew that voice.
I’d sat by Ethan’s bed so many nights.
I’d held his hand through nightmares.
He was nine years old.
And he hadn’t been seen for five days.
Isabella told everyone he was in Maine.
Staying with family.
Building their bond before he came home for good.
I’d believed her.
Until now.
The crying came again.
Quiet.
Desperate.
Begging without a word.
Then silence.
Heavy.
Unnatural.
My eyes landed on a huge baroque painting on the brick wall.
It looked all wrong there.
Too big.
Too fancy.
Out of place in this narrow passage.
I set my tray down slowly.
My hands shook.
I gripped the heavy gold frame.
May you like
I pushed.
It moved.
