Chapter 3 - The Sanctuary of Chestnut Hill
The Sterling estate in Chestnut Hill was a fortress of stone, steel, and high security. Surrounded by forty acres of dense forest and high wrought-iron fences, the stone manor house had stood for nearly a century as a symbol of the family's immense wealth.
When the black limousine pulled through the iron gates, night had fully fallen.
Inside the grand sitting room, a fire roared in the massive stone fireplace. Dr. Harrison, the family’s private physician, was already waiting with two nurses and a portable medical kit.
Julian refused to let go of Leo’s hand. He sat on the soft leather sofa, keeping the boy right beside him, while Clara watched from her wheelchair near the fire.
"It will only take a small swab from the inside of his cheek, Leo," Dr. Harrison said gently, holding a sterile cotton tip.
Leo pulled back instinctively, pressing his back into the soft leather cushions of the couch. He looked around the room—at the oil paintings, the plush carpets, the crystal chandeliers—with deep suspicion.
"Is this a clinic?" Leo asked, his voice trembling. "Marcus said clinics take you away and never let you back out."
Julian leaned down, meeting the boy at eye level. "No, Leo. This is my house. This is a safe place. No one is ever going to take you away again. I promise you on my life."
Clara wheeled herself closer, reaching out to touch Leo's knee. "It's okay, Leo. Dr. Harrison is nice. He helps me with my legs. He won't hurt you."
Looking at Clara, Leo slowly nodded. He allowed the doctor to take the cheek swab and draw a small sample of blood for rapid DNA testing.
While the medical team set up the portable analysis unit in the adjoining study, two housekeepers prepared a warm bath and a plate of hot food.
When the silver platter of roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, and fresh bread was brought into the room, Leo’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. He didn't use the silver fork provided. He grabbed a chicken leg with his bare, dirt-smudged hands and began eating ravenously, as if he hadn't seen food in days.
Julian felt a sharp, agonizing stab in his chest watching his son eat like a starving stray. A boy who should have been raised in luxury, who should have had every comfort in the world, had been scrounging through trash cans behind city diners.
"Take it easy, buddy," Julian whispered softly, pouring a glass of fresh milk and placing it near the boy's plate. "There's plenty more. All of it is yours."
Half an hour later, Dr. Harrison stepped out of the study. His face was pale, his eyes filled with profound disbelief as he looked at the official printed readout in his hands.
Julian immediately stood up, leaving the sofa. "Well?"
Dr. Harrison cleared his throat, his hand shaking slightly as he handed the paper to Julian. "The genetic markers are a ninety-nine point nine nine percent match, Mr. Sterling. He is your biological son, Alexander. The baby who disappeared from St. Jude's eight years ago."
Julian stared at the name printed on the paper—Alexander Sterling. He closed his eyes, a ragged breath escaping his lips as another wave of emotion washed over him.
Suddenly, the heavy double doors of the sitting room burst open.
Vance, Julian's chief of security, walked in briskly. His expression was dead serious, his hand resting near the holster under his suit jacket.
"Mr. Sterling, we have a situation," Vance reported in a low, urgent tone. "I dispatched a team to the harbor bridge where the boy said he was living. The basement hideout was completely burned to the ground twenty minutes ago. Arson."
Julian turned, his eyes narrowing into cold, deadly slits. "And the man who raised him? Old Marcus?"
"We found him in the alley nearby," Vance replied. "He was alive, but barely. He had been beaten severely before the fire was started. My men pulled him out and brought him here in an unmarked van. He's in the secondary security cottage near the gate."
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Julian looked back at Leo, who was now fast asleep on the leather sofa, his small hand still clutching a piece of bread, wrapped in Julian’s velvet tuxedo jacket.
"Keep the boy and Clara locked in the main house," Julian ordered Vance, his voice dropping into a deadly freeze. "I'm going to talk to Marcus right now. I want to know who tried to erase my son's existence."
