Chapter 3 - The Ghost Of Sarah Lin
Ethan stared at the cracked phone resting in his palm, his pulse hammering against his temples.
The screen was black, smudged with dried dirt and sticky fingerprints.
"What did you just say?" Ethan asked, his voice shaking despite all his efforts to remain composed.
The eldest girl pulled herself further out from under the table, her small knees scraping against the marble floor.
"My name is Maya," she said, her voice steadying slightly as she saw the genuine shock in Ethan's eyes.
"These are my sisters: Chloe, Lily, and little Sophie."
Sophie, the four-year-old, crawled out next, burying her face directly into the wool of Ethan’s sleeve.
She smelled of vanilla body spray and institutional laundry detergent.
"Our mother is Sarah Lin," Maya whispered, tears spilling freely over her lashes now.
Sarah Lin.
The name ripped through Ethan’s memory like a flare in the dead of night.
Sarah had been the brilliant chief legal counsel for Vance Global, his father’s most trusted confidante, and Ethan’s closest friend before everything shattered.
When Ethan’s father died in that fiery crash, Sarah had publicly warned that the board’s hasty transfer of power to Julian was fraudulent.
Three weeks later, Sarah had been implicated in a fabricated corporate embezzlement scheme and disappeared from the city overnight.
Everyone assumed she had fled the country to escape prosecution.
Ethan had searched for her for eighteen months before his own life was threatened and he was forced into hiding.
"Where is Sarah?" Ethan asked, kneeling down on the terrace so he was eye level with the four children.
Maya’s lip quivered violently, her small hands clamping over Sophie’s ears.
"They took her three days ago," Maya whispered.
"Julian and Clara brought us to this hotel on Thursday for what they said was a rehearsal vacation."
"They told Mom that if she signed the final settlement papers and handed over the original trust keys, they would give her full custody of us and clear her name."
"Mom met them in the private conservatory near the cliffs on Friday night."
"She told me to take my sisters to the guest lounge and lock the door from the inside."
"She said, 'Maya, if I don't come back before the sunrise, don't trust any hotel staff, don't trust Julian, and look for Ethan Vance.'"
"How did she know I would be anywhere near here?" Ethan asked, his mind racing through impossible scenarios.
"Mom found an architectural work order on Julian’s desk two weeks ago," Maya explained, wiping her nose with her lace sleeve.
"Julian was trying to buy the coastal lot next to your restoration project in Montauk."
"Mom saw your contractor alias on the blueprint approval stamp."
"She knew you were alive."
Ethan touched the cracked power button of the old phone.
The screen flickered to life with a weak glow, showing seven percent battery remaining.
There was no cellular signal; someone had activated a localized signal jammer across the hotel grounds to prevent leaks during the high-society event.
A single video file was saved on the desktop screen, labeled with today’s date.
"Mom recorded this from her purse before she walked into the conservatory," Maya whispered, trembling violently as cold ocean mist rolled over the patio.
Ethan plugged his portable battery bank from his coat pocket into the phone to keep it alive.
He pressed play on the media player and shielded the cracked screen with his broad hand.
The footage was dark, shaky, and muffled by fabric, but the audio was terrifyingly clear.
Julian Sterling’s voice cut through the phone’s tiny speaker like a razor blade.
"You're out of leverage, Sarah," Julian was saying on the tape.
"Sign the release stating Ethan Vance was legally incompetent when he drafted the 2020 foundation charter."
"If you sign, your four daughters get trust funds and a quiet life in Connecticut."
"If you don't, Clara’s father has arranged for the state social services board to declare you an unfit fugitive."
"The girls will be split into four separate foster facilities across three states before the sun comes up on my wedding day."
Then came Sarah Lin’s voice, raspy, defiant, and filled with tears.
"You murdered his father, Julian."
"The mechanic who inspected the brake lines on the mountain road—I have his sworn affidavit locked in the safety deposit box."
A violent thud sounded on the recording, followed by the shattering of expensive glass and Clara Davenport’s cold, melodic laugh.
"Take her down to the wine cellar under the boathouse," Clara’s voice rang out on the recording with chilling precision.
"Once the wedding photos are printed in Vogue and the merger goes through at five o'clock, we will let her sign whatever we want."
The video abruptly cut out into static.
Ethan looked up from the cracked screen, his teeth clenched so hard his jaw ached.
The four little girls were watching him, their eyes wide, trusting, and terrified of the answer he was about to give.
Ethan slowly stood up to his full height, his canvas duffel bag slung securely over his shoulder.
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"You’re not going to any basement," Ethan said, extending both hands to lift the two smallest girls onto his hips.
"And nobody is splitting this family apart."
