Chapter 2 - The NoteThe ambulance doors slammed shut behind us.
I climbed inside just as the paramedic rolled Lily onto the stretcher.
She looked impossibly small.
Six years old.
Pink blanket.
Dark curls stuck to her forehead.
Oxygen mask over her mouth.
Her tiny fingers searched until they found mine.
"Mommy."
"I'm here."
Felix stood beside the ambulance.
The paramedic looked at him.
"Family?"
"Yes."
I didn't correct him.
Not now.
Nothing mattered except Lily.
As the ambulance pulled away, I called St. Catherine's Academy.
The principal answered personally.
"Ms. Marlowe, I am so sorry."
"What happened?"
"We don't know."
"How does a child with a known allergy suddenly have a reaction?"
"We're investigating."
"No."
My voice sharpened.
"I need facts."
He hesitated.
"She was in the cafeteria."
"What did she eat?"
"Chicken and rice."
"Lily has eaten that before."
"I know."
I looked down at my daughter.
She was barely conscious.
"Where is the note?"
"The school nurse has it."
"Read it to me."
Another pause.
"Ms. Marlowe, you should see it yourself."
"Read it."
He exhaled.
"It says: 'Your mother forgot what belongs to the Kingsleys.'"
My blood went cold.
"Anything else?"
"Yes."
"What?"
"It says: 'Seven years was enough.'"
Felix heard every word.
His expression changed.
"Give me that phone."
I handed it to him.
"Who had access to Lily's backpack?" he asked.
The principal sounded confused.
"Excuse me?"
"Who?"
"Students. Teachers. Staff."
"Which staff members entered her classroom today?"
The principal began listing names.
Felix interrupted.
"Stop."
He looked at me.
"She's not the target."
My stomach dropped.
"What?"
"They don't want Lily."
"Then what do they want?"
Felix's eyes met mine.
"You."
The ambulance sped through traffic.
Sirens screamed across Manhattan.
And suddenly, every event of the last forty-eight hours seemed connected.
My anonymous invitation to the board hearing.
The leaked documents.
The newspaper articles appearing before I had even entered the building.
Celeste accusing me of manipulation.
The merger.
Lily's reaction.
Seven years.
Everything had been arranged.
My phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
A text appeared.
YOU SHOULD HAVE STAYED GONE.
Another message arrived.
NOW HE WILL CHOOSE.
I stared at the screen.
Choose what?
Then a third message.
HER LIFE OR HIS EMPIRE.
I felt sick.
Felix saw the messages.
"Give me your phone."
I handed it over.
His face became expressionless.
"Do you know who this is?"
"No."
"I might."
He typed a number.
"Who are you calling?"
"My security chief."
"Why?"
"Because if this is who I think it is, Lily wasn't exposed to an allergen by accident."
I looked at my daughter.
She was breathing.
Barely.
"Felix."
He took my hand.
"I won't let them touch her."
The ambulance reached St. Catherine's Medical Center.
Doctors rushed Lily away.
The doors swung shut in front of us.
I stood frozen.
Felix paced.
Five minutes.
Ten.
Twenty.
Then a doctor came out.
"Ms. Marlowe?"
I ran toward him.
"She's stable."
My legs nearly collapsed.
"But?"
The doctor's expression changed.
"We found evidence that the exposure may not have happened at school."
"What do you mean?"
"Your daughter received a dose of medication before arrival that doesn't match her prescription."
Felix stepped forward.
"What medication?"
The doctor told us.
My stomach twisted.
"Where did it come from?"
"That's what we're trying to determine."
I looked at Felix.
"Someone drugged her."
His jaw tightened.
Before he could respond, another doctor rushed into the hallway.
He whispered something.
The first doctor went pale.
"What?"
I demanded.
"What happened?"
The doctor looked at me.
"We discovered a second issue."
"What second issue?"
He took a breath.
"Your daughter had a tiny injection mark on her upper arm."
My blood froze.
"Injection?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"We don't know."
Felix reached for the wall.
The doctor continued.
"Whatever was injected may have triggered the reaction."
I couldn't think.
Someone had gotten close enough to my child to inject her.
At school.
While she was surrounded by teachers and children.
My phone buzzed again.
Another message.
This time, only one sentence.
YOU TOOK SEVEN YEARS FROM US. WE TOOK SIX YEARS FROM YOU.
I dropped the phone.
Felix picked it up.
He read the message.
Then he looked at me.
"Sarah..."
"What?"
His voice lowered.
"I know who did this."
"Who?"
May you like
He stared toward the doors leading to the ICU.
"My mother."
