Chapter 1
A seven-year-old girl was nearly buried beneath the snow when I found her alone on a Chicago park bench on Christmas Eve, clutching a battered stuffed rabbit and whispering, “I’m waiting for my mama.” I had buried my own daughter three years earlier, so I wrapped the child in my coat and refused to leave her behind. What I didn’t know was that her mother was unconscious in a hospital, and someone else was already searching for the little girl because of what she had seen.
My name is Gideon Vale.
To most of Chicago, I was a billionaire businessman whose companies owned hotels, construction firms, private clubs, and half the valuable property along the river.
That was the respectable version.
The truth was that I ran the Vale organization.
Politicians returned my calls.
Police commanders knew my name.
Men who frightened other men lowered their voices when they entered my room.
Some called me a businessman.
Others called me a mafia boss.
Nobody called me harmless.
But none of that mattered on Christmas Eve.
That night, I was supposed to attend a charity gala where hundreds of wealthy strangers would shake my hand and pretend they didn't know where some of my power came from.
I couldn't do it.
My daughter, Juniper, had died three years earlier.
She was five.
Christmas had been her favorite time of year.
So when my driver stopped near a small park and I saw a tiny figure beneath the blue Christmas lights, something made me get out.
At first, I thought the bench was empty.
Then she moved.
A little girl lay curled beneath an oversized coat, snow gathering in her brown hair.
Against her chest was a worn stuffed rabbit with one ear repaired using pink thread.
I knelt beside her.
“Hey. Can you hear me?”
Her eyes slowly opened.
“My mama said to wait here.”
Her voice was barely audible.
“What’s your name?”
“Norah.”
“Where is your mother, Norah?”
Her tiny fingers tightened around the rabbit.
“She went to get help.”
I looked around.
The park was almost deserted.
“How long ago?”
Norah didn't know.
I removed my coat and wrapped it around her.
She immediately shook her head.
“Mama said don't leave.”
Those words struck somewhere grief had kept frozen for three years.
“Your mother wanted you safe,” I whispered. “And you're not safe here.”
After a long moment, she let me lift her.
She weighed almost nothing.
Inside my car, the heat slowly brought color back into her cheeks.
Then I noticed something strange.
Norah wasn't looking at me.
She was staring through the rear window.
Her entire body stiffened.
“What is it?”
She grabbed my sleeve.
Across the street, a black SUV had stopped.
Its headlights were off.
Norah's face went white.
“That man.”
“What man?”
“The one who made Mama fall.”
Something inside me changed.
I looked at the SUV again.
Before I could ask Norah another question, it began moving toward us.
“Drive.”
My chauffeur heard the change in my voice.
He didn't hesitate.
As we pulled away, Norah buried her face against my chest.
I thought I had found an abandoned child.
I was wrong.
By midnight, my people had discovered that Norah's mother had been admitted unconscious to a Chicago hospital under an unidentified name.
Someone had already been asking the police about a missing seven-year-old girl.
Someone who wasn't family.
That was when I understood.
Norah hadn't simply gotten lost.
Someone was looking for her.
And whatever this little girl had witnessed, they were afraid she could identify them.
There was only one problem they hadn't planned for.
May you like
They had started searching for Norah after Gideon Vale found her.
And in Chicago, there were very few mistakes more dangerous than giving a mafia boss who had already buried one daughter another little girl to protect.
