Chapter 2 - The Echoes of 2013
The world seemed to lose its sound. The rain kept falling, the medic kept shouting vital signs into a radio headset, and the second newborn was carefully lifted into a portable incubator—but all I could hear was the dull, heavy thudding of my own heart against my ribs.
I looked down at Ethan Grant.
The billionaire whose face occasionally flashed on corporate billboards along the interstate. The tech magnate who lived in a guarded estate north of the city.
My father.
"No," I whispered, taking a step back, pulling the baby closer to my chest. "No, that’s impossible. I live in a two-bedroom apartment on 47th Street with my aunt. My dad was a mechanic who left state before I was born. My aunt showed me the letters—"
"Your aunt, Clara, was paid two hundred thousand dollars a year to keep you hidden in plain sight, Harper," Evelyn said smoothly, stepping into my path, preventing me from retreating further into the alley. "Look at him. Look at his eyes. Look at his hands."
I looked down at Ethan’s hand, resting limp against the wet asphalt.
His long, thin fingers bore a distinct, jagged scar across the knuckle of his right index finger—an identical mirror to the faint white line across my own right hand, the one my aunt always claimed was a birthmark.
"In 2013, the Miller-Grant foundation fell apart under a silent war for voting control," Evelyn explained, taking off her grey trench coat and draping it gently around my drenched shoulders. "Your mother knew that staying near the family legacy meant a death sentence for a child. She faked her exit. She hid you in the poorest district in Chicago because nobody looks for a billionaire’s heir in a broken hoodie with holes in her sneakers."
"And the babies?" I asked, my voice cracking as the little girl in my arms stirred, letting out a soft sigh.
"These twins are Ethan’s second family," Evelyn said softly. "Born three weeks ago via emergency surrogate in London. They carry the remaining fifty percent of the voting trust. If they die, control of the company—and everything your mother built—falls to the council."
"What council?"
Before Evelyn could answer, the medic looked up from Ethan’s body, his expression grim.
May you like
"We have a faint pulse, Evelyn, but we need to move NOW. He’s lost too much blood."
Evelyn turned back to me, her eyes commanding yet strange with a lingering warmth. "Get in the van, Harper. Your life as an invisible girl ends tonight."
