I was about to expose everything—and make sure they ended up where they belonged: prison.

Section 1: The Discarded Investment
Blackwood Ridge was attacked by the snow, not the other way around.

Every breath seemed like inhaling glass as the wind howled through the skeleton trees like a dying animal, robbing the air of its warmth.

On the other hand, the Sterling Estate had a perfect, costly, and controlled climate.

The highlight of the social calendar was the annual Sterling Christmas Eve Gala. Under twenty-foot ceilings studded with crystal chandeliers, local celebrities, tech titans, and senators mixed together.

In the corner, a string quartet performed Vivaldi, softly competing with the sound of champagne flutes clinking and the elite’s kind but empty laughing.

I was running late. Headlights pierced the blizzard as my black SUV crunched up the long, curving driveway. I didn’t come to celebrate. Attendance was required, so I was here. My presence was necessary to complete the tableau of the Sterling family’s kindness because I am the adoptive “success story” of the orphan turned cybersecurity prodigy.

I arrived at the enormous iron gates. They were secured. Odd. For the valet service, they were often open.

I entered my code. No access.

I scowled. I gave it another go. No access.

Then I noticed it.

There was a bump in the snow about fifty yards down the road, close to the edge of the thick woodland that surrounded the property. It was too little to be a deer. It couldn’t be a rock because it was too colorful.

It was flannel in pink.

I threw the car into park and ran through the knee-deep snow. I didn’t feel the cold, but it quickly sliced through my outfit. My ribs were being pounded by the frenetic pounding of my heart.

“Mia!”

Half-buried in a drift, she was curled into a fetal ball. She had a horrifying marble-white complexion. She had blue lips. She didn’t move.

I picked her up. For an eight-year-old, she was too light. She had the sensation of a frozen bird on a branch. After running back to the car, I threw open the rear door and placed her on the leather seat. I turned up the heat all the way.

“Look at me, Mia. Get your eyes open.

She fluttered her eyelids. They had an ice coating and were weighty. “Liam?She muttered. She spoke like a splintered reed.

“I’m present. You’re secure. I’ll lead you inside.

She opened her eyes wide with fear. With strength that shouldn’t have been conceivable, she took hold of my wrist.

“No!She let out a cry. “Please! Don’t bring me back! I’m a poor investment, according to my father. “Bad investments get liquidated,” he remarked.

“What?”

She sobbed, her teeth chattering so loudly I thought they might break, “He threw me out.” “He said the doctors would come if I returned to the door.” The medical professionals who use needles.

I gave her a look. She was gripping her ribs and shivering badly.

“Mia, did he hit you?”

She didn’t respond. She simply brought her knees up to her chest.

I gently peeled aside the collar of her drenched pajama top, forcing my trembling hands to stop. I anticipated redness. I anticipated a bruising.

I didn’t anticipate a brand.

There was a large purple-black welt on her shoulder blade. It wasn’t arbitrary. There were edges to it. ridges. It resembled a shield with a lion on the prowl.

The Crest of the Sterling Family.

My father wore a big gold signet ring on his right hand. He had not merely struck her; he had branded her like cattle by using all of his might.

“Oh God,” I exhaled. I was suddenly and completely overwhelmed with wrath. Like the snow outside, it was chilly.

With a shaking hand, Mia reached into her pocket and murmured, “I found the book.” “I picked up a page. Do they hurt me because of this?”

She produced a damp, crumpled piece of paper. I carefully unfurled it.

It wasn’t a book page. The paper was printed.

A DEATH CERTIFICATION
Mia Sterling is her name.
Death Date: December 25, 2024
Cause: Unintentional Hypothermia

It was December 24th today.

She had not simply been expelled. Her death was prearranged.

Section 2: The Wolves and the Black Sheep
My phone rang. A picture of the estate appeared on the screen. “Home.”

I gazed at it. My entire body begged me to take the car to the police station. However, I was aware of this. Right now, Chief Miller was enjoying my father’s scotch at the party. It’s possible that the judge who signed both Mia’s and my adoption documents was consuming the canapés.

I would be arrested for kidnapping and Mia would be “returned to her loving parents” if I went to the police.

I required time. I required proof. I had to play the game one last time in order to obtain that.

I picked up the phone.

“Liam?Smooth, sophisticated, and poisonous was my mother’s voice. “Where are you? The Senator is requesting your presence.

I said, “Mother, I’m at the gate.” I spoke in a soothing tone. The voice sounded like someone else’s. “The code isn’t functioning.”

“Oh, how sad. It was locked early. There was an incident. Her tone changed to one of conspiracy. Has a stray dog been spotted on the road? Or maybe Mia?”

“Mia?I inquired. “Is she not there?”

My father’s voice echoed from the background, “The child is sick, Liam.” She experienced a psychotic episode. assaulted your mom. shattered a Ming vase. She dashed into the tempest. Son, she is a pathological liar. risky. Don’t interact with her if you see her. Simply take her to the service door. Doctors are waiting to put her under sedation.

I glanced in the rearview mirror at Mia. Silently sobbing, she pressed the heating vent to her icy face.

I told a falsehood, “I see her.” “She is near the entrance. She appears to be manic.

My father said, “Grab her.” Bring her to us. Keep the visitors from seeing.

I replied, “I can’t.” She is battling me. She’s yelling. Everyone will hear if I drag her in right now. The senator will observe.

The line was silent. The only thing the Sterlings dreaded was being embarrassed in front of others.

“What do you recommend?My mother inquired sternly.

I said, “I’ll take her to my apartment.” It’s ten minutes away. I’ll soothe her and get her warm. I’ll give her some medications to help her sleep. I will discreetly bring her back after the visitors have left. In this manner, the gala won’t be wrecked.

A pause. I didn’t breathe.

My dad said, “Good boy.” “We were confident in your commitment. You were the one that was always appreciative. Liam, keep her quiet. Or we’ll have to deal with you as well.

The call ended.

I tossed the phone onto the passenger seat and said, “Grateful.” “Thank you for your recent confession.”

I reversed the vehicle. I took a while to drive to my residence. I drove cautiously along the estate wall’s perimeter. My phone detected the “Sterling_Guest” WiFi signal while it was still paired with the car’s Bluetooth.

I was more than just a son. I oversaw Cyber Security for a Fortune 500 business. Ironically, my parents had funded this career to make sure I could safeguard their riches.

I got my laptop open. I had created the firewall, not hacked it. Years ago, just in case, I made a backdoor.

I ran a script. Keylogger_Install.exe.

A stream of data started to appear on my screen in a matter of seconds. I would suddenly be able to see every keystroke my father made on his work computer.

I saw the text appear instantly.

From: Arthur Sterling
To: Legal’s J. Miller
Subject: The Resource

The package is with Liam. For tonight, he is keeping it under control. In the event of a catastrophic disaster tomorrow morning, get the papers ready. Additionally, ask the adoption agency to prepare the upcoming cargo. This time, a boy is needed. greater compensation for behavioral problems.

“Shipment,” I muttered.

They weren’t parents. They were smugglers.

Section 3: The Nightmare Room
My flat was a cold, snug, minimalist stronghold of isolation. It felt like a bunker tonight, though.

I poured Mia hot chocolate, carried her inside, and covered her with blankets. Her hands were shaking as she drank it, her gaze darting about the room as though she thought the walls would attack.

I assured her, “You’re safe here.” “I swear.”

She muttered, “They’ll come.” “The doctors show up every time.”

I went to work as she finally fell into a fitful slumber.

I opened the Sterling Private Cloud while seated at my multi-monitor setup. Using my father’s password, Legacy1990, which the keylogger had kindly supplied, I was able to get around the encryption.

Bile rose in my throat at what I discovered.

Folders were present. dozens of them. Each has a name label.

Then I noticed it.

Project: Liam (since 1999).

I kept my hand over the mouse. I made a click.

The screen was packed with pictures of me when I was younger. I won the spelling bee when I was ten. At sixteen, I accepted a scholarship. Twenty-year-old me, graduating from college.

However, the notes beneath weren’t proud observations from parents. These evaluations were clinical in nature.

The subject is quite intelligent. extraordinary capacity for manipulation. Keep for the upkeep of your image. Avoid liquidating. beneficial for future asset management. Low level of emotional attachment. Return on Investment: High.

I wasn’t a son. I served as a publicity prop. They advertised their generosity to the world on a billboard. “Observe the unfortunate orphan we were able to save. Observe his level of success.

They used me as a shield. Additionally, Mia was their source of income.

I looked further. I located the financial documents. Adopting “high-needs” children was the Sterlings’ specialty. They received enormous subsidies from the state, up to $5,000 per child every month. Additionally, they obtained specific life insurance plans for each child, citing their “fragile health.”

The youngster had a “accident” when the subsidies ran out or the toddler started acting out.

The value of Mia’s insurance coverage was $2 million. Yesterday, it had vested.

The silence was broken by a repetitive, forceful beating on my front door.

Mia screamed as she awoke.

“Liam!From the hallway, a voice yelled. “Open up! Dr. Evans is here. I was sent by your father to see how the girl was doing.

Approaching the door, I peered through the spyhole.

The family doctor was Dr. Evans. I had known him all my life. However, he was not carrying a medical bag. A syringe was in his hand. Two males I didn’t recognize were standing behind him. Under their thick jackets, I could make out the outline of crowbars, or worse.

They weren’t there to see how she was doing. The purpose of their visit was to “liquidate the asset.”

“Get out,” I yelled. “She’s dozing off.”

“Open the door, Liam,” Dr. Evans urged, letting go of the polite exterior. Or we dissect it. Tonight is when your father wants things finished.

I reached for my coat. I reached for my laptop.

“Mia,” I muttered as I hurried over to the couch. “We must leave.”

“Where?She sobbed, tears running down her cheeks.

“The fire escape.”

We dashed for the rear window. The grate made of metal was frozen shut. Once, twice, I kicked it. With a moan, it gave way. Outside, a dark alley with a four-story drop, the wind howled.

Mia looked down and sobbed, “I can’t.”

“You must,” I replied. The entrance door behind us cracked loudly.

I reached up for her as I climbed out first. “Mia, jump to me. I’ll get you. I’ll never let you go.

She leaped.

I managed to catch her, and the collision almost knocked us both off the edge. The wind cut our faces as we scurried down the cold metal stairs. I saw a flashlight beam piercing the snow above us and heard men yelling.

We bolted as soon as we struck the alley floor. My lungs burnt as we ran. We rushed till we came upon an all-night internet café, a location devoid of cameras and populated with gamers who wouldn’t give a man in a suit with a youngster in pajamas a second glance.

I purchased a private booth. I took a seat for Mia.

It buzzed on my phone. Chief Miller sent a text message.

From: Miller, Chief
Message: A abduction report was recently submitted by your father. You are dangerous and armed. Authorization to shoot to kill has been given. Son, don’t mess this up. Bring her in, please.

I gazed at the screen. I was being pursued by the police. They were after me, the “doctors.” There was nowhere for me to go.

I gave Mia a look. Her eyes were wide with trust as she held both of my hands in hers.

Are we going to pass away?She inquired.

“No,” I replied. “We aren’t going to die,” I said as a chilly calm descended upon me. We’re attending a party.

Section 4: The Bloody Christmas
I didn’t leave the estate by car. I returned to it by car.

They wouldn’t have anticipated it. They believed that I was fleeing to the border. I was sheltering at a motel, they assumed. They didn’t anticipate that I would return to the lion’s lair.

Half a mile from the house, I parked the car in the woods. Mia was concealed under blankets in the car, the doors locked, and she was holding a burner phone when I left her there.

I said to her, “You press this button if I’m not back in twenty minutes.” The FBI tip line is called. You share everything with them.

She muttered, “Don’t leave me.”

“Mia, I have to complete this. The beasts must be turned off.

I ran across the forest. No one knew the estate as well as I did. I was aware of the security cameras’ blind spot close to the garage. I was familiar with the maintenance room code.

Slipping inside the garage, I went. It was warm. Above me, I could hear the faint noises of the celebration, including music, laughter, and glass clinking.

I located the primary AV rack, which housed the server that managed the ballroom’s enormous projection screen, lighting, and sound.

My laptop was plugged in.

Arthur Sterling, my father, was upstairs using a silver spoon to tap his crystal glass. There was silence in the room.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said in a deep, kind voice. We are grateful that you could join us on this holy night. Let’s keep the less fortunate in mind as we rejoice. the kids without a place to live. The kids we attempt to rescue.

“To the kids!The audience gave a toast.

I clicked ENTER in the garage.

The ballroom darkened. There was a screech as the music ended.

“What’s happening?Arthur insisted. “Lights! Get the lights, please!”

The enormous screen behind him then began to flicker.

It wasn’t a greeting for Christmas. It wasn’t a picture of the family.

It was a written document.

MIA STERLING’S CERTIFICATE OF DEATH, December 25, 2024.

The crowd echoed with a murmur. Is that a joke?Someone murmured.

Then the sound started. Recorded from the phone call earlier that evening, my father’s voice erupted over the speakers at full intensity.

“Son, she is a chronic liar. risky. Simply take her to the service door. Doctors are waiting to put her under sedation.

While on stage, Arthur froze. His face turned white.

The picture was altered. It was a video. I had retrieved the nanny cam footage from the cloud.

It featured my mother standing over Mia in the kitchen, looking dainty in pearls. Mia was in tears. My mom had a lit cigarette in her hand. She purposefully rubbed it on Mia’s arm.

On the video, my mother calmly said, “Stop crying.” “You’re causing harm to the goods. We are unable to take pictures for the brochure if you have facial bruises.

The ballroom exploded. yells. Shocks. People let go of their spectacles. The Senator appeared on the verge of being ill.

Arthur’s face twisted into a visage of pure malice as he screamed and turned to face the tech booth. “Cut it! Stop the feed! Now kill it!”

I stepped outside onto the balcony that looked out over the ballroom. I had snow all on me. I had a ripped suit. I appeared to be a ghost.

“Father, you can’t cut the truth!I yelled. The vaulted ceiling reflected my voice.

Everybody looked up at me.

“Liam!My mother pointed a trembling finger and screamed. “He’s crazy! The system was hacked by him! He is not telling the truth!”

“Observe the screen!I shouted.

The last picture emerged. The list was what it was. The children who were “liquidated.” Sarah. David. Their death dates coincided exactly with the dates of large insurance payouts.

“Murderers!A woman in the audience let out a scream.

Standing by the bar, Chief Miller became aware that the game was up. He pulled out his military weapon. Arthur was not his target. He pointed at me.

“He has a weapon!Miller yelled, attempting to provide an explanation. “He’s got a detonator! Everyone is down!”

He pulled up the rifle. I remained motionless. I didn’t recoil.

I said, “Go ahead, Miller.” Shoot me. However, you might want to start by examining the door.

The ballroom’s big doors sprang open.

The local cops weren’t involved.

A SWAT unit was involved. Men wearing windbreakers bearing the letters FBI in yellow were behind them.

I hadn’t simply dialed the tip line. Thirty minutes ago, I emailed the Federal Crimes Division the complete data dump.

“Federal Agents!A voice yelled. “Let go of the weapon! Right now!”

Miller froze. On his chest, red laser dots danced. He lowered the rifle carefully.

Arthur Sterling attempted to flee. In fact, he attempted to run to the kitchen. Before he could take five steps, he was tackled by two agents. His nose cracked with a delightful crunch as he struck the marble floor hard.

My mom stared at me while standing motionless. She didn’t have regret in her eyes. They were hateful.

As they shackled her, she growled, “I gave you everything.”

As I watched from the balcony, I remarked, “You gave me nothing.” “My soul was simply rented by you. The lease has expired.

Section 5: The Empire’s Decline
It was an absolute and disorderly arrest.

Everything was taken by the FBI. The files, the computers, and the safe. The money was discovered concealed within the walls. The passports were ready for their escape when they discovered them.

As they pulled my father away, I descended the opulent staircase. He was spitting at the agents while kicking and yelling.

“My name is Arthur Sterling. This town is mine! I’m not yours to touch!”

The main agent calmly declared, “You’re a child killer.” “And you have nothing.”

I passed him. I avoided looking at him. I stepped out into the snow through the front door.

Twenty police cars lit up the night with their flashing lights. The visitors who had passed out were being attended to by paramedics.

I headed into the forest. I was stopped by an agent.

“We need a statement, sir.”

I said, “In a minute.”

I headed to the vehicle. I pulled the door open.

Mia was sitting there with the burner phone in her hand. She threw herself into my arms as soon as she spotted me.

“Is it finished?She inquired.

“Yes,” I replied, embracing her. “Monsters are kept in cages.”

A female agent sat with us at the FBI field office later that evening. She was considerate. She brought food and blankets.

She added softly, “Liam, we discovered something else in the safe.” A file was slid across the table by her.

I cracked it open. It was the documentation for my adoption. Mia’s as well.

I scanned the papers. My breath caught.

The document stated, “Biological Sibling Match confirmed.”

I turned my gaze to the agent. “What?”

“You’re sister and brother,” she remarked. “In terms of biology. When she was a baby and you were sixteen, your parents—your real parents—died in a car accident. Strings were pulled by the Sterlings. You were split up by them. In order to adopt you separately years later, they placed you in separate foster homes. Two subsidies resulted from two adoptions. Two payouts.

I gave Mia a look. Unaware, she was munching on a piece of pizza.

She wasn’t just any kid I had rescued. I was descended from her. My sister. They had sold her back to me as a stranger after stealing her from me.

I touched her hair with my extended hand. It matched my hue exactly. Her eyes were identical to those of my mother. My actual mom.

At last, the tears came. For the Sterlings, no. For the years we had lost, however.

Section 6: The Comforting Winter
After a Year

Despite its small size, the flat smelled of natural pine rather than pricey perfume.

The day was Christmas Eve.

No visitors were present. Not a single senator. Not champagne. It was only Mia and I, and a crooked tree we had chosen together.

Mia had an ornament hanging. She had painted the little wooden star herself.

I was stirring hot chocolate in the kitchen when I said, “A little to the left.”

She said with a smile, “It’s ideal where it is.”

She was now nine years old. Twice a week, she attended therapy. There were less nightmares. There was no more flinching.

Her sweater was made of thick wool. Not a single bruise. No names.

I approached her and gave her a mug.

Do you long for the large home?I inquired. I occasionally asked that inquiry to make sure.

“The big house was cold,” she added, glancing at me. “Even throughout the summer. It’s toasty in here.

She took a seat on the mat. “Liam?”

“Yes?”

Have you heard anything about Father?”

“Arthur,” I clarified. “Arthur is his name.”

“Arthur,” she said. Have you heard?”

“Yes.”

Three days prior, Arthur Sterling had been battered to death in prison. It seems that other prisoners did not think well of child murders. My mother was incarcerated for three consecutive life terms.

“I’m not depressed,” Mia muttered. “Is that a terrible thing?”

“No,” I replied as I sat next to her. “It indicates that you are recovering.”

She gazed at the star and remarked, “We didn’t disappear.”

“No,” I replied. “We didn’t.”

I glanced at my image in the window. I no longer saw the “PR Prop.” I noticed a brother. I noticed a guardian.

The telephone rang. I examined the caller ID. It was the adoption agency, the reputable one I now collaborated with to reveal fraud.

I said, “I have to take this.”

Mia gave a nod. “I’ll keep a cookie for you.”

I went to the window and gazed at the snow. Now it was falling softly, a gentle white blanket enveloping the city. It was purifying the planet, not attacking it.

I picked up the phone.

Liam is here, I said.

The voice on the other end stated, “Liam, we have a case.” A boy. ten years of age. He is being let down by the system. He must be placed. Someone who comprehends

I gave Mia a look. Something on the TV was making her chuckle. She was secure. She was content. There was space for us.

I said, “Send me the file.”

I ended the call. I turned to face my sister again.

The Sterling Legacy had passed away. It was hidden beneath deceit and avarice.

However, what about our legacy? It was only getting started.

“Mia,” I said. What are your thoughts on a brother?”

Her eyes widened as she looked up. Then she grinned, a bright, warm, and lively smile that extended to her eyes.

Is he a fan of hot chocolate?She inquired.

“I believe he will,” I said.

The snow was still falling outside, but the fire was blazing brightly inside. And I didn’t feel thankful for their crumbs for the first time in my life. I was satisfied.