Chapter 1 - The First Swing

The golf club missed Claire Bennett's head by an inch and smashed into the conference table.

Wood cracked. A crystal pitcher jumped. Thirty-seven floors above Chicago, Claire ducked as Margaret raised the club again.

"Give it to me!" Margaret screamed.

"You took my daughter!"

"I gave you one chance to be reasonable."

Margaret's silver bob had come loose. Her emerald-green suit probably cost more than Claire's first car, but she held the club like a woman who had forgotten every rule she'd ever made other people follow.

Claire braced one hand against the table. Her champagne-colored dress was torn at the hip. She'd dressed for a gala, not a fight.

The club came down again.

This time Claire caught the shaft with both hands. Metal burned against her palms. Margaret pushed, teeth bared. Claire shoved back, twisted, and wrenched the club free. Margaret stumbled into a chair, clutching her ribs.

"You crazy little liar," Margaret gasped.

"Where's Ellie?"

The door slammed open.

Ethan Vale stood there in a charcoal shirt, his hair damp from the rain. He took in the broken table, the club in Claire's grip, his mother bent over the chair.

"Jesus. What happened?"

"Ask her where our daughter is," Claire said.

Margaret straightened at once. "Ethan, she attacked me."

"She tried to cave my skull in."

Ethan stepped between them. "Put it down, Claire. Please."

Something in his voice made her hesitate. He wasn't looking at the club. He was looking at the small camera above the office door.

A hard red button sat on the wall beside it, under a plastic cover marked EMERGENCY.

Claire dropped the club, crossed the room, and broke the cover with her elbow.

"Claire, don't—" Ethan began.

She slammed her palm against the button.

Red lights flashed beyond the glass. A siren rose through the tower. Somewhere below, hundreds of gala guests began to shout.

Then the giant screen behind Margaret came alive. A little girl sat on a concrete floor, hugging a pink backpack. Her cheeks were wet, and a dark-haired man stood just outside the frame.

"Mommy?" Ellie whispered.

Claire lurched toward the screen.

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Ellie glanced at the unseen man. Then she looked directly into the camera and silently shaped three words.

Don't trust Daddy.