“David Vance,” the voice said. It wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. It possessed the kind of absolute, terrifying weight that could only belong to a man who had spent three decades deciding the fate of nations. “You are speaking to Chief Justice Arthur Sterling. And you have exactly sixty seconds to tell me why my daughter is crying, or I will ensure the United States government dismantles your life piece by piece.”
Sylvia’s smirk vanished. She gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, her manicured nails clicking against her teeth.
David’s phone nearly slipped from his fingers. The color drained from his face so fast he looked like a corpse under the harsh kitchen fluorescent lights. His mind, trained for rapid legal defense, completely stalled. Every lawyer in the country knew that voice. They watched his televised hearings. They studied his landmark Supreme Court rulings.
“C-Chief Justice?” David stammered, his smooth lawyer voice cracking into a pathetic whine. “Anna’s… Anna’s father is dead. She grew up in the state system—”
“Anna grew up under federal protection because her mother was assassinated by a cartel leader I put away,” my father’s voice cut through the air like a guillotine. “She chose to live quietly. She chose to change her name to find a man who loved her for her, not her lineage. It seems she made a catastrophic error in judgment.”
A sharp, agonizing cramp ripped through my abdomen. I let out a choked gasp, my forehead pressing against the cold tile floor. “Dad…” I sobbed, the pain blinding me. “The baby… Sylvia pushed me. David won’t let me call 911. He broke my phone. He said… he said the neighbors would talk.”
