Chapter 3 - THE SILVER COMPASS
I stared at the compass. I hadn’t seen it in thirty-five years. “You died,” I whispered. “Mom told me I had a brother who died as a baby.” “I didn’t die,” Michael said. He looked at Sophie, his scarred face softening. “It’s okay, bug. Daddy’s here.” Sophie didn’t run to him. She clung to Thomas’s leg, terrified of my mother. “Don’t listen to him, Ryan,” Patricia commanded. “He’s unwell. He’s been in facilities his whole life. Emily knows.” I spun toward my wife. “You knew about the facilities?” Emily was crying. “Ryan, I found bank statements a year ago. Your mother was paying thousands a month to an offshore care center. When I confronted her, she told me it was a distant cousin.” “Until she met me,” Thomas interrupted. “I was the administrator of that facility.” My mother’s face flushed with fury. “Thomas stole Sophie. He’s a kidnapper.” “I protected her!” Thomas barked. I looked between them, my head spinning. “Protected her from what?” Michael stepped forward, his eyes locked on mine. “From the same thing she did to me.” He unbuttoned his left cuff and rolled up his sleeve. There, burned into his forearm, was a jagged, twisted scar. But it wasn’t just a burn. It was a brand. The exact shape of the Carter family crest. Before I could speak, Patricia reached into her designer bag and pulled out a stack of heavily stamped legal papers. “I have full legal custody of Sophie,” she said, her voice like ice. “Hand her over, or I will have you all arrested tonight.”
