THE FOOTSTEPS ON THE CONCRETE STAIRS

The shattered pieces of the coffee mug lay on the kitchen tile, the dark liquid seeping into the grout.

I couldn't breathe. Escaped. People didn't just escape from a maximum-security federal medical facility.

“How?” I gasped, grabbing the edge of the kitchen island to keep from collapsing.

“The warden said it was an inside job,” Roman said, his voice entirely devoid of emotion, slipping back into the cold, calculated tone of the syndicate boss he used to be. “Two guards were found drugged. The security cameras looped. Someone heavily funded got her out.”

“The council,” I whispered.

Roman shook his head. “The council is bankrupt. The feds seized their assets. Blair has a different benefactor. Someone she kept completely off the books.”

Roman’s eyes darted to the Oakhaven grocery receipt still sitting on the counter.

“Pack a bag,” Roman ordered, turning on his heel. “Get Sara and Lily up. We’re moving to the secondary safehouse in Nevada. Now.”

I ran down the hallway. Panic, cold and sharp, clawed at my throat. I burst into my father’s room.

He was already awake, sitting up in his bed, staring at the wall.

“Dad,” I rushed over, grabbing his wheelchair. “We have to go. Something happened.”

My father didn't move. He didn't look at me. He just pointed a trembling finger at his bed sheets.

“She called, Emmy,” my father rasped, his voice sounding older than time.

I froze. “What? Who called?”

“The woman. Blair,” he whispered, tears welling in his aged eyes. “She called the landline in this room ten minutes ago. She said... she said she knows about the Oakhaven secret.”

My stomach plummeted into an endless abyss. The Oakhaven secret.

“Dad, what is she talking about?” I pleaded, dropping to my knees beside his bed. “What secret? Roman found a receipt. Sara was in Oakhaven a month before everything blew up. Why was she there?”

My father closed his eyes. A heavy, agonizing sob tore from his chest.

“Because of the boy, Emmy,” he cried.

I stared at him, completely lost. “What boy?”

My father slowly reached under his mattress. His hands shook violently as he pulled out a heavily folded, yellowed piece of architectural blueprint. He handed it to me.

I unfolded it. It was the floor plan of the Oakhaven Assisted Living Facility. But it wasn't just a nursing home.

Circled in red ink, deep in the basement of the facility, was a hidden sublevel labeled: Pediatric Long-Term Care.

“When the old Don died,” my father whispered, the confession spilling out of him like poison draining from a wound, “he didn't just leave Roman the legitimate businesses. He left a trust fund. A massive one. For the firstborn male heir of the Castellano bloodline.”

“Roman only has Lily,” I argued. “He doesn't have a son.”

“He didn't,” my father corrected softly.

My breath hitched.

“Before Sara was exiled,” my father continued, wiping his tears, “she got pregnant. Blair found out. Blair knew if Sara had a boy, the child would inherit the entire Castellano fortune, legally bypassing the syndicate and Blair’s control. So Blair poisoned Sara’s tea.”

I covered my mouth in horror.

“It caused an early labor,” my father sobbed. “Sara gave birth in secret. The baby was born premature. Very sick. Sara came to me for help. I hid the boy at Oakhaven. I paid the nurses to keep him on life support. That’s why Sara was visiting. That’s why Blair ran me off the road. To find out where the heir was hidden.”

I looked down at the blueprint, the room spinning violently around me.

Roman had a son. Lily had a brother. And Sara had been hiding him to keep Blair from murdering him.

“Blair didn't break out of prison to come after Roman,” my father said, grabbing my wrist with terrifying strength. “She broke out to finish the job. She’s going to Oakhaven. She’s going to kill the boy.”

The doorway squeaked.

I turned around.

Roman was standing there.