THE GHOST IN THE CORRIDOR

“Report!” Julian yelled into the phone. “Talk to me!”

Static hissed through the speaker, agonizing seconds ticking by. Finally, the guard’s voice came through, breathless and frantic.

“Shots fired! The translator, David, he pulled a weapon. He shot the woman in the silver sedan. He’s fleeing on foot toward the warehouses. We’re in pursuit!”

“Helen,” I gasped, my knees giving out.

Julian caught me before I hit the hardwood floor, his strong arms wrapping around my waist, hoisting me back to my feet. “Secure the woman!” Julian ordered the guard. “Is she alive? And find out where the child is. Do whatever it takes!”

“Paramedics are en route, boss. She’s hit in the chest, but she’s breathing. She... she’s trying to say something.”

“Put the phone near her,” I begged, grabbing Julian’s wrist. “Please, Julian.”

Julian nodded grimly. “Hold the phone to her mouth.”

A ragged, wet wheeze echoed through the study. Then, Helen’s voice, weak and trembling. “Mia... I’m sorry... I’m so sorry.”

“Helen! Where is Lily? Where is my baby?” I screamed, tears blinding me.

“She’s safe... I hid her... from them. The key... the key is in the drawing. Victoria... Victoria took everything.”

The line went dead.

“Helen? Helen!” I sobbed, dropping my head against Julian’s chest. He held me tightly, one hand stroking my hair as I fell apart. My mother—or the woman I thought was my mother—was bleeding out on a dock, and my seven-year-old daughter was hidden somewhere in the city, terrified and alone.

“We will find Lily,” Julian said, his voice a low, fierce vow vibrating against my ear. “I swear to you on my life, Mia, we will find her.”

I pulled back, wiping my face furiously. I couldn't break down now. Lily needed me. “Who is Victoria?” I asked, my voice cracking. “She said Victoria took everything.”

Julian’s face turned completely bloodless. The warmth in his eyes vanished, replaced by a storm of cold, terrifying realization. He walked over to his desk, heavily leaning his knuckles on the polished wood.

“Victoria,” Julian said quietly, “is my stepmother.”

I stared at him. “Your stepmother? The woman you took the company from?”

“I didn't just take it from her,” Julian corrected, his jaw tight. “I ousted her. After my father died in the crash, Victoria took control of the company as my guardian. She ruled it for nearly ten years. Three years ago, I found out she was embezzling millions. I forced her out of the board, threatened her with prison if she ever stepped foot in Sterling Corp again.”

“She orchestrated the crash,” I realized aloud, the horror washing over me. “She wanted your father dead to take the company. And she needed my father dead to get his shares.”

“And when you survived,” Julian finished, “she paid Helen to hide you. To keep you quiet, uneducated, and poor. As long as you were officially 'dead', Victoria could control your father's fifty percent of the company.”

“But why tonight?” I asked frantically. “Why the German buyout? Why use David the translator to try and force you to sign?”

Julian’s eyes snapped to the wall of documents. “Because I froze her offshore accounts last week. She’s out of money. The buyout was her last play. If David had manipulated the contract tonight, he would have rerouted seventy percent of the acquisition funds straight into a shell company controlled by Victoria. She was trying to steal a hundred million dollars and flee the country.”

“And I stopped it,” I whispered.

“You stopped it,” Julian agreed. “Which means Victoria is now desperate. And a desperate snake bites.”

Julian grabbed a set of keys off his desk and strode toward the door. “We need to go. Now.”

“Where?”

“Helen said the key is in the drawing. Lily’s drawing?”

I blinked, my mind racing. “Yes! Lily gave me a drawing this morning before I left for the catering gig. It’s in my locker at the catering company’s headquarters.”

“Let’s go,” Julian commanded.

We raced through the night in Julian’s personal sports car, the engine roaring as he tore through the empty Chicago streets. The catering headquarters was a drab, brick building in the industrial district. At 2:00 AM, it was pitch black and locked tight.

Julian didn't hesitate. He wrapped his hand in his suit jacket, smashed the glass of the side door, and reached in to unlock it.

“Locker room, back left,” I whispered, leading him through the dark, smelling of stale grease and industrial bleach.

I found locker 42. I spun the cheap combination lock, my hands shaking so badly I messed it up twice. Finally, it popped open. My everyday clothes were inside. I reached into the pocket of my cheap denim jacket and pulled out a folded piece of construction paper.

I opened it under the beam of Julian’s phone flashlight.

It was a crayon drawing Lily had made of a house, a smiling stick figure of me, and a little stick figure of herself. But in the top corner, where the sun should have been, Helen had written a sequence of numbers in black ink.

774-299-10

“It’s a vault number,” Julian said instantly. “First National Bank. Downtown. My father kept a private vault there. Victoria has been trying to crack it for a decade.”

“Why?”

“Because that vault holds the original bearer bonds for your father’s half of the company,” Julian said. “If we get them, you legally own half of Sterling Corp. Victoria loses everything.”

We sped to the bank. It was closed, but when you are Julian Sterling, a phone call gets the bank manager out of bed at 3:00 AM. We were escorted into the subterranean vault, the heavy steel door groaning open.

Julian found box 774. He looked at the keypad. “It needs a ten-digit code.”

“The drawing only has nine numbers,” I said, panic rising.

Julian stared at the keypad, then at me. “No, it doesn't. Look at the drawing again.”

I looked at Lily's crayon drawing. Under the numbers, Lily had drawn a bright yellow sun with a smiley face.

“The sun,” I realized. “It’s a zero.”

Julian punched in the numbers, ending with zero.

Click.

The heavy metal drawer slid open. Inside lay a stack of centuries-old looking paper—the bearer bonds. But resting on top of them was something that made my breath catch.

It was a silver locket. Identical to the compass Julian had given me.

Julian picked it up, flipping it over. On the back, it was engraved: To my darling Mia. I am always watching over you. - Dad.

Tears pricked my eyes. But before I could touch it, a cold, aristocratic voice echoed off the concrete walls of the vault.

“How touching. A family reunion.”

We spun around. Standing in the doorway of the vault, flanked by two massive men with drawn guns, was a stunning, elegantly dressed woman in her late fifties.

Victoria.