Chapter 6 - The Stolen Sister
Damian picked up the yellow envelope and broke the wax seal. He scanned the hand-written pages, his dark eyes widening slightly as he read his mentor’s final words.
“What does it say?” I asked softly.
Damian looked up at me, a rare, profound expression in his eyes. “Your father didn’t just hide evidence, Maya. He legally transferred ninety percent of the Whitmore empire into a private, irrevocable trust under your name. I am named as the sole trustee and protector until you reclaim your legacy.”
He turned the page, his voice dropping into a quiet rumble as he read the final paragraph aloud:
“‘Damian, if you are reading this, it means my daughter has found her way to you. I know the man you will become—a tyrant to your enemies, but a king to those you love. Do not let my death poison your heart. Protect my girl. Build a world where she never has to hide in the shadows. And if she will have you, give her the life I was stolen from giving her mother.’”
The words hung in the air, heavy and beautiful. I looked at Damian, seeing the dark, dangerous man who had shattered my door, now looking at me with an unspoken devotion that made my heart race.
Before either of us could speak, Damian’s satellite phone buzzed on the table.
He pressed speakerphone.
A raspy, arrogant voice boomed through the speakers. “Damian. I see you survived my welcome party.”
“Victor,” Damian said, his tone instantly dropping to sub-zero temperature. “You have five minutes to surrender my bride’s sister before I personally dismantle every bone in your body.”
On the other end, Victor Sterling laughed—a dry, grating sound. “Bride? How sweet. The orphan boy playing prince to Daniel’s bastard daughter. Listen to me very carefully, Cross. I have Lily tied to a chair over a dry dock at Terminal 4 in the Port of Newark. If you are not here in thirty minutes with the steel box and the cipher, I cut her ropes. She drops sixty feet into the concrete below.”
“I’m coming alone,” Damian said.
“No!” Victor snapped. “Bring the girl! I want Maya to watch her sister die just like I made her father watch his empire fall! If I don’t see her in the passenger seat of your car, the girl drops immediately!”
The line went dead.
I looked at Damian, grabbing his arm. “I’m going with you.”
“No,” Damian growled, standing up. “It’s a kill box. He has snipers staged across the crane towers. I will drop into the dock via helicopter and—”
“Damian, look at me!” I shouted, standing up on my good leg, leaning heavily against the desk. “Victor wants me there because he thinks I’m weak! He thinks I’m a terrified girl with a broken leg who doesn’t know how this world works! But I am Daniel Whitmore’s daughter! And I am not letting my sister die!”
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Damian stared at me. For three long seconds, the brutal mafia kingpin fought with the man who loved me. Then, a slow, fiercely proud smile spread across his face.
“Lev!” Damian bellowed into his comms. “Prep the heavy armored Maybach and load the tactical gear! The Queen is coming with us!”
