Chapter 1 – THE LITTLE BLUE BACKPACK

I stared at my eight-year-old brother.

The staff lounge suddenly felt as cold as the Chicago winter outside.

Luca Moretti didn’t say a word.

He simply walked past Vanessa and knelt on the floor beside Ben’s chair.

“Ben,” Luca said quietly. “Where is this backpack?”

Ben pointed a trembling finger toward the corner of the room.

Sitting next to the trash can was his little blue school bag.

The one with the frayed straps.

The one I’d bought on clearance two years ago.

Luca stood up and walked over to it.

Vanessa’s face went completely pale.

“Luca, stop,” she said, her voice rising. “You are violating my privacy. I handled a staff issue.”

“You told an eight-year-old to pack his bags,” Luca replied without turning around.

He picked up the backpack.

He unzipped it.

Inside, sitting on top of Ben’s pajamas and his favorite dinosaur toy, was a thick manila folder.

Luca pulled it out.

“Mr. Moretti,” I whispered, stepping forward. “What is that?”

He opened the folder.

His eyes scanned the first page, and I watched the muscles in his jaw tighten until I thought they might snap.

“It’s not a Child Protective Services form, Sarah,” Luca said, his voice dangerously low.

Vanessa took a step backward toward the door.

“It’s a private guardianship transfer,” Luca continued. “A fast-track placement form for a private boarding facility.”

I couldn’t breathe.

“A facility?” I choked out.

“In upstate New York,” Luca said, turning to look at his fiancée. “A facility known for taking children off the grid. All it needed was a signature from the current guardian.”

Vanessa swallowed hard.

“He’s a burden to her, Luca. I was doing her a favor. She would have signed it eventually.”

“She didn’t sign it,” Luca said, holding up the final page.

He walked slowly toward Vanessa.

“But someone already did.”

My heart stopped.

“What?” I asked.

Luca turned the page around so I could see it.

At the bottom of the legal document, on the line meant for the guardian’s signature, was a messy, scrawled name.

It wasn’t my name.

It was my father’s name.

Thomas Mitchell.

“That’s impossible,” I breathed, my hands shaking. “My father died last December. He couldn’t have signed that.”

Vanessa’s eyes darted toward the hallway.

“It must be a clerical error,” she stammered.

“Answer one question for me, Vanessa,” Luca said, stepping closer to her. “Why did my father’s private attorney notarize a document for a maid’s brother?”

Vanessa froze.

I looked at Luca in shock.

“Your father’s attorney?” I asked.

Luca looked down at the paper.

“The stamp belongs to Arthur Pendelton. The man who handles the Moretti family estate.”

He looked back at Vanessa.

“Which means this isn’t about firing a maid. This is about getting rid of Thomas Mitchell’s son.”

Vanessa opened her mouth, but no words came out.

Then she did something I never expected.

She laughed.

It was a cold, sharp sound that made Ben hide his face against my apron.

“You really don’t know, do you, Luca?” Vanessa asked.

“Know what?”

“Why your father was so generous when Thomas Mitchell had his little ‘heart attack’ last winter.”

My blood ran cold.

Vanessa reached into her designer clutch.

She didn’t pull out a phone.

She pulled out a heavy, tarnished silver pocket watch.

She dropped it onto the floor between us.

It hit the hardwood with a sickening crack, popping the lid open.

“Ask your maid where her father really was the night he died,” Vanessa sneered.

I stared at the broken watch on the floor.

Inside the lid was an engraved photograph.

It was a picture of my father.

But he wasn’t wearing his cheap work clothes.

He was standing in a tailored suit, holding a gun, right next to Luca’s father.

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