Chapter 40 His Daughter
The cabin becomes our war room.
Vincent Moretti has been living here for eighteen months, ever since he realized Marcus Webb was rebuilding William Sterling's network. The walls are covered with evidence—photographs, maps, financial records, intercepted communications. It's the same meticulous attention to detail that Isabella has in her binder, and watching them work side by side, I can see the family resemblance. Not just in their features—the same dark eyes, the same sharp cheekbones—but in their methods. They both think like hunters. They both refuse to let prey escape.
"The difference," Vincent explains, "is that I was one of them. I know how they operate. I know their safe houses, their protocols, their weaknesses. Marcus Webb thinks he's untouchable because he's operating in the shadows. But the shadows are where I've lived my whole life."
He points to a photograph on the wall—a man in his fifties with a thin face and cold eyes. Marcus Webb. Gerald's younger brother. The man who wants to punish the Sterling children for their father's conviction.
"He blames us," I say. "For William's arrest."
"He blames everyone. But yes, the children who testified against William are at the top of his list." Vincent's voice is grim. "You, Caleb, Eleanor. Oliver, even though he wasn't involved in the trial—his existence is a reminder of William's failures. Marcus is a purist. He believes the Sterling legacy should have been preserved at all costs."
"He sounds insane."
"He is insane. That's what makes him dangerous. Rational people can be reasoned with. Marcus Webb is not rational."
Isabella has been quiet for most of this exchange, studying the maps with her arms crossed. Now she speaks. "You said he's been gathering men. How many?"
"At least a dozen. Former security personnel. A few disgraced lawyers. People who lost their livelihoods when William's empire collapsed."
"And what exactly are they planning?"
Vincent hesitates. "I don't know the specifics. But I know the timeline. They're aiming for Christmas. The holiday season, when everyone is together. When the Sterling family—your family—is all in one place."
The words hit me like a physical blow. Christmas. Sophie's favorite holiday. The house on Oakhaven Lane, decorated with lights and garlands, the tree in the living room, the whole family gathered together for the first time since Eleanor and Caleb and I left for college.
It's the most vulnerable we've ever been.
"We have to warn them," I say. "Caleb. Eleanor. Margaret. Everyone."
"If you warn them, they'll scatter. And if they scatter, Marcus will pick them off one by one." Vincent meets my eyes. "I know that's not what you want to hear. But it's the truth. The only way to stop Marcus is to let him come to us—on our terms, in a place we control."
"The house," Isabella says. "The Sterling mansion. It's the obvious target."
"It's the symbolic target. The seat of William's power. Marcus wants to make a statement." Vincent taps a map of Oakhaven. "If we can anticipate his approach, we can set a trap. Catch him before he reaches the house."
"A trap," I repeat. "You want to use my family as bait."
"I want to protect your family. But to do that, I need to know where Marcus will be. And the only way to guarantee that is to give him what he wants—the Sterling family, all in one place, apparently vulnerable."
I think about Sophie and Sam. About Margaret and Caroline. About my mother, who finally feels safe in her cottage. About Oliver, who just started to belong. About Eleanor, who would absolutely try to investigate. About Caleb, who would absolutely try to protect everyone.
"If this goes wrong," I say, "if anyone gets hurt—"
"It won't go wrong." Vincent's voice is firm. "I've been planning this for eighteen months. Every contingency. Every variable. I know Marcus Webb better than he knows himself."
"And if you're wrong?"
The question hangs in the air. Vincent doesn't answer.
Isabella steps forward. "I'll be there. At the house. If my father's plan fails, I'll protect your family myself."
"You barely know them."
"I know you. That's enough."
I look at her—this strange, sharp-edged girl who appeared in my life three weeks ago and has already changed everything. She's not my sister. She's not my friend. She's something else entirely, something I don't have a word for yet.
"Fine," I say. "But we do this my way. My family gets to know what's coming. Maybe not the details—maybe not the full plan—but they deserve to know they might be in danger."
Vincent nods slowly. "Agreed. But you can't tell them about me. Not yet. If word gets out that I'm alive, Marcus will know something is wrong. He still thinks I'm on his side."
"Are you?"
"I was. Before William's arrest. Before I saw what we'd become." He looks at Isabella. "Before I realized I'd lost everything that mattered."
There's a long silence. The fire crackles. The snow continues to fall outside.
"Okay," I say. "Let's figure out how to stop a madman."
\---
We spend the rest of the day planning.
Vincent walks us through Marcus Webb's organizational structure—the key players, their roles, their weaknesses. There's a man named Dietrich who handles logistics, a woman named Chen who manages finances, and a half-dozen other operatives who do whatever dirty work needs doing. It's a smaller network than William's empire, but it's focused. Determined. Marcus has been recruiting true believers, men and women who genuinely think William Sterling was wronged.
"These aren't mercenaries," Vincent explains. "Mercenaries can be bought off. True believers can't. They're doing this because they want to. Because they think it's justice."
"Justice," Isabella says bitterly. "Attacking a family on Christmas. That's their idea of justice."
"Justice is a flexible concept. William taught us that."
I study the photographs on the wall. The faces of the men who want to hurt my family. They look so ordinary—like businessmen, like neighbors, like people you'd pass on the street without a second glance. How many monsters have I walked past in my life without knowing?
"We need allies," I say. "People who can help protect the house."
"There's a security firm in Boston," Vincent says. "Ex-military. Discreet. They've done work for clients in... complicated situations before. I can reach out to them."
"Will they be enough?"
"They'll be a start. But the real defense is information. If we know when Marcus is coming, we can be ready." Vincent looks at me. "The Sterling mansion has security cameras. Motion sensors. The works. William had them installed years ago. Are they still operational?"
"Margaret upgraded them after the Peyton incident. She never felt safe again after someone broke into the pool house."
"Good. That means we have eyes on the property." He turns to Isabella. "I need you to access the surveillance system. Monitor it. Tell us the moment anything unusual happens."
"I can do that."
"And Maya—you need to tell your family. Not everything. But enough. Prepare them without panicking them."
"How do I prepare someone for this without panicking them?"
Vincent's expression softens slightly. "I don't know. But if anyone can figure it out, you can. I've been watching you, Maya. You're the heart of that family. The one who holds them together. If you tell them to be ready, they'll be ready."
The words settle over me, heavy and warm. The heart of the family. Is that what I am? Is that what I've become?
Six years ago, I was the invisible girl. The one who ate lunch in the art room closet. The one who believed she was too much and not enough at the same time.
Now a former fixer is telling me I'm the one who holds my family together.
"I'll talk to them," I say. "But I'm going to need help."
"You'll have it. Whatever you need."
\---
By the time the snow stops falling, we have the bones of a plan.
Vincent will contact the security firm in Boston. Isabella will monitor the Sterling mansion's surveillance system remotely. I will return to Oakhaven and tell my family—carefully, gently—that they might be in danger. And on Christmas Day, when the whole family is gathered, we'll be ready for whatever Marcus Webb throws at us.
"Is this going to work?" Isabella asks. We're standing outside the cabin, watching the last flakes of snow drift down through the trees. The sky is starting to clear, pale winter sunlight breaking through the clouds.
"Vincent seems confident."
"I'm not asking Vincent. I'm asking you."
I think about it. The plan has holes. There are too many variables, too many things that could go wrong. Marcus Webb could change his timeline. Someone could leak information. The security firm could be compromised. My family could panic and scatter, making themselves more vulnerable instead of less.
"No," I say honestly. "I don't know if it's going to work. But I know we have to try."
Isabella nods. "That's what I thought." She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small object—a pendant on a silver chain. "This was my mother's. She gave it to me before she died. She said it was for protection."
"Isabella—"
"Take it. For luck. For whatever comes next."
I take the pendant. It's warm from her pocket, a small stone set in silver that catches the winter light. "I can't accept this. It's your mother's."
"You can. And you will." Isabella meets my eyes. "You're the first person who's ever looked at me and seen something other than my father's daughter. You saw me. The real me. That's worth more than a pendant."
I close my fingers around the necklace. "When this is over—when Marcus Webb is stopped—what happens to us?"
"I don't know. I've never had a friend before. Not a real one."
"Me neither. Not until recently."
"Then let's figure it out together. After the chaos. After the danger." She almost smiles. "Assuming we survive."
"Assuming we survive," I echo.
We stand in the snow, two daughters of terrible men, bound together by secrets and danger and the desperate hope that we can be different from our fathers. The cabin looms behind us. The forest stretches ahead. And somewhere out there, Marcus Webb is planning his attack.
But for this moment—this single, quiet moment—I feel something I haven't felt in weeks.
Hope.