Chapter 7 - THE UNKNOWN SISTERThe words echoed in my head like a death sentence. The real Kincaid matriarch is coming for her bloodline next. Welcome to the true family, brother.
Brother?
For my entire life, I was raised as the sole heir to the Kincaid dynasty. My father had never spoken of another child. Victoria had never hinted at a sibling. Yet, the lipstick message scrawled across the penthouse mirror pointed to a terrifying truth: there was another Kincaid out there, wrapped in shadows, pulling strings even more viciously than Victoria ever could.
We relocated immediately to an undisclosed safehouse provided by Agent Vance—a heavily fortified modern loft overlooking Lake Michigan, protected by biometric locks and twenty-four-hour federal surveillance.
Dawn was breaking, painting the Chicago skyline in bruised shades of purple and orange. I stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, watching the sun rise while holding a cup of cold black coffee. Emily was finally asleep in the adjoining bedroom, exhausted from the trauma of the fire, with little Lily resting safely beside her.
My phone buzzed on the kitchen island.
It was an encrypted notification from my private intelligence network. Attached was a decrypted audio file retrieved from the server rack in the estate's underground vault before the fire consumed it.
I plugged in my earbuds, tapped play, and listened.
It was an old, scratchy voice recording between my late father, Arthur Kincaid, and an unidentified woman, dated over twenty-five years ago—long before I was born.
Father’s voice: "Victoria can never know. If she finds out about the child from the first marriage, she will tear this family apart. We have to keep her hidden in Europe, away from the estate."
The woman’s voice: "You can hide her all you want, Arthur, but blood always remembers. And when the time is right, she will come back to claim everything Victoria stole from us."
The audio cut out with a harsh static hiss.
A cold sweat broke out across the back of my neck. I wasn't just fighting a corrupt mother anymore. I was caught in the crossfire of a generational war I didn't even know existed.
Suddenly, the secure terminal on the wall beeped loudly, flashing a red alert.
EXTERNAL CAMERA FEED 04 TRIGGERED.
I rushed over to the monitor. On the screen, the elevator doors on our private floor opened.
There was no security guard. No federal agent.
Stepping out of the elevator was a woman in a sleek black trench coat. She had sharp, aristocratic cheekbones, piercing green eyes that mirrored my own, and an icy, confident smile that made my blood run cold.
She walked straight up to the heavy steel door of the safehouse, looked directly into the security camera lens, and raised her hand.
She didn't knock. Instead, she pressed a small digital bypass device against the keypad.
May you like
Beep.
The heavy steel door swung wide open.
