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The cabin felt like it had shrunk. Diane Doyle didn’t back down; she stepped forward, shielding Sienna with her body as if the teenager were a weapon I might try to reclaim. / Chapter 1 / 10

Chapter 1 - THE MID-AIR STANDOFFThe cabin felt like it had shrunk. Diane Doyle didn’t back down; she stepped forward, shielding Sienna with her body as if the teenager were a weapon I might try to reclaim. "You have no idea what you're dealing with, Everett," Diane hissed. "Put the baby down. We are getting off this plane the moment it lands."

"Not until you tell me how a girl who shouldn't exist knows a lullaby that died with my wife," I shot back. My voice was low, dangerous. I wasn't just a grieving widower anymore; I was a man who had been kept in the dark by his own blood for nearly two decades.

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The heavy mahogany door of the east gallery closed softly behind me, but the silence inside did not comfort me. It pressed down like lead.

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The cool marble of the private east gallery felt chilling beneath my fingertips. The pale moonlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows illuminated The Blue Woman, the haunting masterpiece my mother had painted just weeks before her tragic death.

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