A POOR BOY INTERRUPTED A BILLIONAIRE AT HIS TWINS’ GRAVE—THEN HELD UP THE TOY BURIED WITH THEM

Ethan didn't speak. He couldn't.

He threw his arms around both of his sons, pulling their small, frail bodies into his chest so tightly he felt their small hearts beating against his ribs.

The smell of cheap institutional soap couldn't hide the familiar scent of his children—the scent he had spent five years trying to remember through nightmares.

"I'm here," Ethan sobbed, his face buried in Aaron’s hair, holding Lucas with his other arm. "I'm here... I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry it took me so long..."

Lucas, who had remained silent against the wall, slowly wrapped his small arms around Ethan’s neck. "Jonah found you?"

"Yes, baby," Ethan wept, kissing the top of Lucas’s head over and over. "Jonah found me. He gave me your car."

"He said you were dead," Aaron cried, his tears soaking into Ethan’s suit jacket. "The red-haired lady said the fire took you. But Lucas said you were just lost."

"I was lost," Ethan whispered, pulling back to frame their pale faces in his blood-stained hands. "But I'm found now. And nobody is ever going to take you from me again."

Vance stepped into the doorway, his weapon lowered, his hard tactical expression softening for a single fraction of a second as he took in the scene.

"Ethan," Vance said quietly. "We’ve secured the compound. My men found fourteen other children in the upper wings. Emergency medical services and federal authorities are ten minutes out."

Ethan stood up, holding both of his sons in his arms. The twins wrapped their legs around his waist, clinging to him like life rafts in a storm.

"Did you find the transport manifest?" Ethan asked Vance, his voice turning dead and sharp.

Vance handed Ethan a thick, leather-bound binder recovered from Rusk’s desk.

"It’s all here," Vance said. "Dates, wire transfers, diplomatic clearance codes. Over the last seven years, Briar House has processed over sixty children. The payments trace directly back to an offshore account owned by a private foundation in Switzerland."

Ethan flipped through the pages until he reached the entry from five years ago:

OCTOBER 17 - SUBJECTS: CALDWELL, L. & A.

STATUS: SECURED VIA VEHICLE ACCIDENT STAGING.

CLIENT: PENDELTON TRUST.

TRANSFER VALUE: $15,000,000.

Ethan stared at the signature at the bottom of the document.

It was Arthur Pendelton’s personal seal.

"He didn't just steal my sons," Ethan said, a terrifying calm falling over him. "He killed Claire. He staged the entire crash to wipe out my immediate family so he could assume control of Claire’s family trust fund."

"Ethan," Vance warned, seeing the dark turn in his friend's eyes. "Pendelton is currently at the Grand Hyatt in downtown Columbus. He’s hosting a fundraising gala tonight for his re-election campaign. Every political heavy hitter in the state is in that ballroom."

Ethan adjusted his grip on his sons, walking past Vance toward the stairs.

"Jonah is coming with us," Ethan declared. "I'm adopting him tomorrow."

"And Arthur Pendelton?" Vance asked.