Chapter 3

"Mommy.

"Mommy, wake up.

"Mommy, I'm hungry."

A soft, gentle voice brushed against my ear, light as a feather.

I opened my eyes. In front of me was a fair, delicate little face. Round eyes, a tiny nose, and full pink lips, all smiling up at me.

"Anna?" I couldn't believe it.

Anna tilted her head and poked my cheek. "Mommy's still sleeping. Silly Mommy! The sun's already way up."

I pulled her into my arms, squeezing her so tightly I thought she might break.

My Anna was alive. Where was I?

I lifted my head and looked around. This was our home, the little apartment Anna and I had shared for five years.

Her crayon drawings covered the walls. A half-eaten apple sat on the coffee table. Cartoons flickered on the TV.

Sunlight streamed through the window, warm and golden.

Everything was normal. Except for me.

I stared at my hand. It was solid. Real. Warm flesh and blood, not that pale, ghostly wisp I remembered.

Did I come back?

The idea suddenly rushed into my mind, sending a chill through my whole body.

If I came back, then what day is it?

I spun toward the calendar on the wall. February fourteenth, twenty twenty-six. Eight thirty in the morning.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

February fourteenth. This was the day.

In one hour, Michael's men would be at my door to take Anna.

In ninety minutes, Anna would be on that operating table.

In two hours, my daughter would die on that cold operating table.

I still had time. I still had a chance. I held Anna as I would never let go, tears spilling down my face.

Anna's eyes went wide. She reached up with her small, chubby hands and wiped my cheeks. "Mommy, don't cry. I'll be good. I'm not hungry now. You can sleep more."

I cried harder. She was such a sweet, gentle child.

She was five years old, and she was already trying to take care of me. And her own father was ready to throw her away.

The doorbell rang. My blood turned to ice.

Anna squirmed in my arms and bounced toward the door. "Mommy, someone's here! I'll get it."

"Don't open it!" I nearly screamed, grabbing her and pulling her behind me.

Anna flinched, her lip trembling. Tears welled in her eyes. "Mommy..."

I took a deep breath and tried to steady my voice. "Anna, go hide in the bedroom for me, okay? No matter what happens, stay inside and don't come out. Promise me."

"But—" she started.

"Please, baby." I knelt and held her face in my hands, looking right into her eyes. "Let's play a game. You hide in the closet. If you stay quiet until Mommy calls you, you get a big bowl of ice cream. Deal?"

Anna blinked and nodded hard. "Okay! I'm the best at hiding."

I carried her into the bedroom and tucked her into the back of the closet, piling clothes over her small shape. "Remember, whatever you hear, don't come out."

Anna put her finger to her lips. "I won't make a sound. I will wait for Mommy."

I shut the closet door, wiped my face, and walked out of the bedroom.

The doorbell rang again, even more urgently.

I opened the door. Four men stood outside. Leading them was Michael's assistant, Charles Young. Behind him were three men in black suits, built like walls, with faces that looked carved from stone.

Charles gave me a thin smile. "Ms. Quinn. Mr. Reed sent me to pick up Anna."

I blocked the doorway and met his eyes. "Where are you taking her?"

"Well..." Charles's gaze flickered. "Mr. Reed misses his daughter. He wants her to spend a few days with him."

"Misses her," I said flatly. "When has Michael Reed ever given a damn about Anna? It's been three years since the divorce. Has he visited once?

"Has he sent a single dollar for her care? And now he wants to play the loving father?"

Charles's smile tightened, then returned, polished and fake. "Ms. Quinn, Mr. Reed's personal matters aren't my concern. I'd suggest you cooperate. It'll be easier for everyone."

"Cooperate," I repeated. "And if I don't?"

Charles sighed and waved his hand. The three men pushed past me and stormed inside.

"Search the house," Charles ordered. "Find the girl and bring her out."