I was seven when I pushed my newborn brother and sister to a hospital in an old wheelbarrow because Mom hadn’t moved in three days. I thought getting the babies there would end the nightmare—until police found a letter beside my mother warning that a man was coming for us.

The police cruiser moved silently through the thick fog, its headlights cutting through the dark Texas pine woods.

It was 4:00 AM when we turned onto the familiar gravel road. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird as I recognized the blue mailbox—dented on the side where a passing truck had clipped it two summers ago.

Our house sat tucked deep behind the thick treeline. It looked small, abandoned, and broken under the moonlight.

Agent Vance unholstered her sidearm, signaling two tactical officers following in an unmarked SUV to sweep the perimeter.

"Stay behind me, Maya," Vance instructed softly as we stepped up onto the creaking wooden porch.

The front door was slightly ajar.

Miller pushed it open with his boot, the beam of his tactical flashlight illuminating the small living room.

Everything was turned upside down.

Couches were slashed open, cotton filling spilling onto the floor like snow. Drawers were dumped out. Books were torn from their spines. Sterling’s men had already been here, searching frantically for what my mother had hidden.

Tears welled in my eyes, but I forced them back. I walked past the destroyed dining table, leading the officers into the small bedroom I had shared with the twins’ cribs.

My room had been ransacked too. My small mattress was thrown into the corner, my stuffed bear ripped open on the rug.

"Maya, where is it?" Miller asked quietly, scanning the exposed floorboards.

I knelt on the floor, ignoring the sharp pain in my bandaged knees. I pulled back the edge of the blue floral rug near the east wall.

There, hidden beneath the shadow of the baseboard, were three small, hand-carved hearts in the dark oak wood.

"Here," I whispered.

Agent Vance pulled a tactical combat knife from her vest, wedged the tip beneath the seam, and pried the board upward.

With a soft crack, the wood gave way.

Inside the narrow joist space lay a heavy, waterproof steel cash box wrapped in thick black electrical tape, alongside a sealed envelope addressed to: MAYA, LEO, AND MIA.