Chapter 12 - The Ghost of Boston
The private jet sliced through the low-hanging cloud cover above Boston Logan International Airport. Ethan sat across from Frank in the leather-appointed cabin, reviewing the decades-old court records and state adoption files retrieved from the ashes of the manor.
"Her name is Sarah," Ethan said, tapping a faded black-and-white photograph of an eight-year-old girl with bright, piercing hazel eyes—eyes that looked hauntingly familiar. "Richard paid the adoption agency three hundred thousand dollars to place her with a respectable family under an airtight nondisclosure agreement. But the family died in a catastrophic car accident three years later, and the girl vanished into the state foster system."
"If Sarah is Richard’s legitimate firstborn daughter," Frank observed, checking his tactical tablet, "she holds the legal claim to the Sterling family foundation, not Julian, and not even Vanessa."
"Vanessa knew," Ethan said with certainty. "That’s why she orchestrated the marriage to me. She didn't want the foundation through Julian. She knew Julian was a fraud. She needed me to legitimize her control before the real heir surfaced."
"Where is she now, sir?"
Ethan turned his gaze to the window as the plane banked toward the runway. "The last known address registered under her identity was an independent community clinic in South Boston. She’s working as a pediatric nurse under the name Dr. Clara Wright."
Ethan stopped, his breath catching in his throat.
"Clara," Ethan breathed, the blood draining from his face. "The nanny. Lily’s private tutor."
Frank’s eyes went wide. "The woman who was shot in the nursery yesterday?"
May you like
"She wasn't shot by Julian’s men," Ethan realized, his heart hammering against his ribs. "The bullet caliber that struck Clara was a .22—the exact caliber of Vanessa’s hidden derringer. Clara didn't try to hide Lily; Clara was trying to protect her because Clara knew Lily was her own niece."
Ethan grabbed his satellite phone, dialing the private medical wing where Clara had been transported. The phone rang five times before an automated voice answered: The line you have reached has been disconnected by order of the attending physician.
