Chapter 4 - THE MOTHER WHO CAME BACK FROM THE DEAD
Elena Cole woke in a private hospital room at dawn.
I stood beside her bed.
My hands shook so badly I couldn't hold the paper cup of coffee.
She looked older.
Thinner.
There were lines around her eyes that hadn't existed in my childhood.
But she was alive.
"Mom?"
Her eyes opened.
For a moment, she stared at me without recognition.
Then her lips parted.
"Maya?"
I began crying.
She reached toward me.
I caught her hand.
Eleven years.
Eleven birthdays.
Eleven Christmas mornings.
Eleven years of wondering whether I'd done something wrong.
"Where were you?" I whispered.
Her face crumpled.
"Oh, baby."
I shook my head.
"Don't."
She closed her eyes.
"I wanted to come back."
"Then why didn't you?"
Tears slid down her cheeks.
"Because they told me you'd die if I did."
Silence.
I stared.
"Who?"
She looked toward the door.
Christian stood outside with Gabriel.
Elena's face drained of color.
"Vance."
I turned.
Christian stepped into the room.
"Mrs. Cole."
She pulled her hand away from mine.
"No."
Her breathing quickened.
"Not another Vance."
Christian stopped.
I looked between them.
"What does that mean?"
Elena stared at him.
"Your father promised Thomas protection."
Christian's jaw tightened.
"My father died when I was nineteen."
"That doesn't change what he did."
I turned toward Christian.
He looked stunned.
Elena continued.
"Your father made a deal with Raymond Sloane."
Christian shook his head.
"What deal?"
Elena's eyes filled.
"A deal to move money through charitable foundations and offshore companies."
My stomach tightened.
She looked at me.
"Thomas discovered it."
I swallowed.
"And they killed him."
Elena closed her eyes.
"Yes."
The word seemed to empty the room.
Christian looked toward the window.
For the first time, the powerful man seemed completely powerless.
"My father was involved?"
Elena nodded.
"He wasn't the only one."
She looked at me.
"Thomas copied the records."
I leaned forward.
"Where are they?"
Her expression changed.
Fear.
Real fear.
"Maya."
"What?"
She squeezed my hand.
"Your father hid the evidence somewhere only you could find."
I stared.
"I was twelve."
"I know."
"He never told me."
Elena shook her head.
"He did."
My heart pounded.
She whispered:
"Remember the song he made you practice?"
I froze.
The strange little melody.
Seven notes.
A pause.
Four more.
My father used to tap it against the kitchen table.
He said it was our secret song.
I hadn't thought about it in years.
Elena looked at me.
"That wasn't a song."
My mouth went dry.
"It was a code."
And suddenly, I understood why someone had been searching for me.
May you like
Not because I was Thomas Cole's daughter.
But because I was the only person alive who might know where he'd hidden the truth.
