Chapter 2 - The Ghost in the Attic
The hospital parking lot was freezing, the autumn wind howling through the concrete pillars. I couldn't go home—that much was crystal clear. But I couldn't run away completely tonight, either. My purse, my car charger, my diaper bag, and every single cent of my savings were sitting in the master bedroom of the Sterling estate. More importantly, Toby's formula, extra clothes, and medical records were locked inside that fortress.
Desperate and terrified, I drove five miles away to the dimly lit parking lot of a 24-hour diner. I parked in the farthest corner, shrouded by shadows, and spent an hour nursing a terrified, crying Toby in the back seat. My right arm hung uselessly at my side, throbbing in agony.
I needed an ally. And there was only one person in the county who might believe a word of this madness: Detective Arthur Vance.
Vance was a grizzled, cynical investigator with the Ashford County Sheriff’s Department who had quietly retired six months ago after spending thirty years hitting brick walls whenever his cases brushed against the wealthy Sterling family. Rumor had it he kept a box of unsolved files in his garage.
I dialed his number from my cell phone, my hands shaking so badly I dropped it twice before it connected.
"Vance," a gruff voice answered on the third ring.
"Detective Vance, my name is Elena Sterling. I’m married to Marcus Sterling. You don't know me, but Dr. Harrison at County General just told me about Clara and Sarah."
Silence stretched across the line for so long I thought he had hung up. When Vance finally spoke, his voice was laced with profound exhaustion.
"Get out of that county, girl," Vance whispered. "I spent ten years trying to tie Eleanor and Marcus to those women. You can't touch them. They own the judges, they own the coroner, and they own the local bank. If you go to the police station tonight, the desk sergeant will call Marcus before you even fill out the paperwork."
"They tried to kill me tonight, Detective," I cried softly, careful not to wake Toby. "Eleanor shoved me down the marble stairs while I was holding my four-month-old son. My husband stepped over us to get champagne. They are going to finish the job."
A heavy sigh echoed through the receiver. "Listen to me very carefully, Elena. There is a reason those women fell. It wasn't just cruelty—it was money. Clara and Sarah both inherited substantial real estate and family trusts before they married into the Sterlings. The moment they signed marriage certificates, their assets were funneled into a joint family trust controlled exclusively by Eleanor. When they tried to leave... gravity took over."
"My name isn't on any trust," I said, frowning in the darkness. "I came from nothing. I worked as a graphic designer before I met Marcus. I don't have an estate or a trust."
"No," Vance said slowly, a terrifying realization dawning in his tone. "You don't. But your son does. Did you know your grandfather left a massive timber fortune to your mother, which legally transferred to you last year?"
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My breath caught in my throat. I had completely forgotten about the old timberland in northern Minnesota. My uncle had managed it, but after he passed away, the title deed had been transferred directly to my name—a deed I had foolishly mentioned to Marcus over dinner three months ago.
"They aren't just getting rid of wives," Vance said grimly. "They are eliminating mothers to gain sole guardianship of the heirs. Your son inherits the timberlands when he turns eighteen. With you gone, Marcus becomes his sole legal guardian. Do the math."
