As the car pulled out of the hospital driveway, I saw them. My father and mother were standing on the curb, arguing with a taxi driver. They looked old, tired, and defeated. They were holding plastic bags of their belongings—probably kicked out of their house.
They looked up and saw me in the back of the limo. My mother’s eyes widened. She took a step forward, reaching out a hand.
“Eleven! Please!” she mouthed.
I looked at her. I felt nothing. No anger. No sadness. Just the indifference of a stranger passing a beggar.
I pressed the button on the door. The tinted window rolled up, erasing them from my view.
Chapter 6: The Heir
One Year Later
The air in the Swiss Alps is different. It’s cleaner. Sharper.
I stood on the balcony of the chalet I had rented for the winter, holding a steaming cup of tea—Earl Grey, Grandma’s favorite. My legs were strong again. The scars on my arms had faded to silvery lines, a map of where I had been.
My phone buzzed on the table. It was an email from Sterling.
Subject: Update on the Davis File.
I opened it.
My parents had divorced six months ago. The stress of bankruptcy destroyed whatever transaction they called a marriage. My father was living in a studio apartment, working as a junior draftsman for a rival firm. My mother was working retail, trying to sell her story to tabloids. “The Secret Millionaire Daughter Who Abandoned Us.” Nobody bought it. Without proof, she just sounded crazy.
And Raven?
Raven was walking. She had sent a letter to the “Phoenix Foundation.” Sterling attached a scan.
Dear Benefactor,
I don’t know who you are. My parents say you don’t exist, that it was a clerical error. But the doctors told me someone paid. I’m dancing again. Not like before, but I’m moving. I’m moving out as soon as I turn 18. I don’t want to be like them. Thank you.
I smiled and closed the laptop.
