Chapter 2 - The Montgomery Empire
The rain started falling just as I reached my car, blurring the Seattle skyline into a wash of gray and neon. I sat in the driver’s seat for a long time, my hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white. My mind was racing, replaying the encounter in the park on an endless, agonizing loop.
Regina. Lucy. Valerie.
Three little girls with bright blue eyes—my eyes—and a nanny who looked like she had just seen a ghost. And the name. Montgomery.
Eight years ago, when I met Camila, she was just a girl in a worn denim jacket nursing a cup of black coffee at a late-night diner. She told me she was escaping a life that felt like a cage. She never gave me her last name. She never told me where she lived. We spent twenty-four hours mapping out a future on diner napkins, getting the matching Broken Compass tattoos, and promising to meet at the same diner the following week. I waited for three days. She never showed up.
I had spent the better part of a decade convincing myself that I was just a fleeting moment of rebellion for a girl who got cold feet. But the universe had just shattered that lie.
I pulled out my phone and typed Camila Montgomery Seattle into the search engine.
The results loaded instantly, and the blood drained from my face.
The woman from the diner wasn’t just a girl escaping a cage; she was the heir to it. Camila Montgomery was the only daughter of Arthur Montgomery, a ruthless real estate magnate who owned half the commercial property in the Pacific Northwest. Articles detailed her highly publicized, upcoming marriage to Vance Sterling, a wealthy venture capitalist with political ambitions.
But it was the images that made my heart stop.
There were dozens of society photos. Camila in designer gowns, standing next to a smiling, cold-eyed Vance. And in a few rare paparazzi shots, Camila walking with the triplets. The articles called them her "miracle children," born prematurely from a brief, undisclosed relationship before she returned to her family’s protective fold.
I threw the car into drive. I didn't care about Arthur Montgomery’s billions. I didn't care about Vance Sterling’s political connections. Those three little girls had my eyes, and they knew about a tattoo that only two people in the world possessed.
By nightfall, I had tracked down the address of the Montgomery estate. It was a sprawling, gated fortress on the edge of Lake Washington, hidden behind ancient pine trees and wrought-iron fences. I parked a block away, pulling my coat tight against the biting wind, and walked toward the perimeter.
I knew I couldn't just walk up and ring the doorbell. Men like Arthur Montgomery didn't have visitors; they had appointments. As I stood in the shadows across the street, watching the rain slick the pavement, the heavy iron gates slowly began to open.
The black SUV from the park pulled out.
It wasn't speeding. In fact, it pulled over just a few hundred yards down the road, idling near a dark stretch of the lake. I kept my distance, watching from the cover of the trees. The driver’s side door opened, and the nanny from the park stepped out. She looked around nervously, her arms crossed against the cold, holding a lit cigarette with trembling fingers.
I stepped out of the shadows.
She gasped, dropping the cigarette, her hand flying to her chest as I approached. "You!" she hissed, taking a step back toward the safety of the heavy vehicle. "You shouldn't be here. If Mr. Montgomery’s security sees you—"
"I don't care about his security," I said, my voice low but carrying a dangerous edge. "I want to know about the girls. I want to know about Camila. Tell me the truth."
The nanny looked around frantically. "You don't understand who you are dealing with. Ms. Camila... she didn't want this. She didn't want any of this. But she talks about you. To them."
"She talks about me?" My breath hitched.
"Every night," the nanny whispered, tears welling in her eyes. "She traces the tattoo on her arm and tells the girls a story about a man who gave her a compass so she would never be lost. She tells them that one day, the compass will guide him to them."
The nanny reached into her pocket and pulled out a heavy, embossed envelope. She shoved it into my chest.
May you like
"Tomorrow night is the Montgomery Charity Gala at the Emerald Hotel," she said, her voice shaking. "It’s a masquerade. There’s a VIP pass inside. Find her. Please, before Vance ruins them all."
Before I could ask another question, she jumped back into the SUV and sped away into the stormy night, leaving me standing alone with an invitation to the lion's den.
