The name Eleanor fell like a bomb into the quiet grand reception hall. The tall man in the grey suit—Arthur Sterling, Leo’s ruthless uncle and self-appointed guardian—froze mid-stride. His eyes widened, not with grief, but with a terrifying, predatory fury. For seven years, Eleanor Sterling’s name had been erased from the family estate. To speak it was treason; to claim her mandate was an invitation to destruction.

Rain pounded the dense canopy of the Sterling estate grounds. The storm roared like an angry beast, masking the sounds of blaring sirens and barking attack dogs behind them.

Maya carried Leo on her back, her bare feet cutting into jagged rocks and sharp pine needles. She didn’t utter a single groan, though blood dripped from her left sole. Leo clung to her, his wet navy suit heavy and soaked through, his cheek pressed against her warm back.

“Put me down,” Leo sobbed into her wet shoulder. “You can’t carry me. You’ll die out here!”

“Shut up and hold on,” Maya snapped, her chest heaving as she fought her way through the dense underbrush. “Your mother didn’t die giving me this task just for me to drop you in the mud.”

“My mother died in a car crash!” Leo cried out over the thunder.

Maya stopped abruptly under the roots of a giant, hollow oak tree. She slid Leo down gently, propping him up against the trunk. Her eyes burned through the dark.

“Your mother didn't die in a crash, Leo. Arthur cut the brake lines. And when she survived the crash, he made sure she never left the hospital,” Maya said, her voice icy and precise. “She hid in the deep woods for three weeks before her body gave out. She found my village. She spent her last hours giving me this.”

Maya reached into the pocket of her ragged dress and pulled out a small glass vial filled with a glowing, amber liquid, along with a rusted silver key.

“What is that?” Leo asked, trembling from the cold and the horrific truth tearing through his mind.

“This is the antidote to the neurotoxin Arthur has been giving you since you were five,” Maya said. “It doesn’t fix bones, Leo. It unblocks the nerves he crippled on purpose so you could never stand up and reclaim your father’s empire.”

Flashlights danced through the tree trunks a few hundred yards away. Guard dogs barked, their deep howls getting closer.

Maya pulled a rusted hunting knife from her belt and cut open the hem of Leo’s pants. She took the vial, unstoppered it, and rubbed the thick amber liquid directly into the muscles of his calves. Then, without warning, she slammed the butt of the knife handle straight into the nerve point behind his knee.

A violent, white-hot fire exploded through Leo’s legs.