“They’re alive.”
She began crying immediately.
“Emily?”
“She’s here. She’s safe.”
Sarah tried to lift herself.
“Emily…”
“Don’t move.”
A nurse rushed in.
Sarah stared desperately at Michael.
“You came.”
He took her hand.
“I’m sorry.”
Her expression changed.
Fear replaced relief.
“You came home.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
She squeezed his fingers.
“You weren’t supposed to.”
Michael froze.
“What?”
Sarah’s gaze moved around the room.
“David.”
Michael leaned closer.
“David Rourke?”
Sarah’s eyes closed.
“Yes.”
“What did he do?”
The nurse called for the doctor.
Michael touched Sarah’s shoulder.
“Sarah, tell me.”
“He came Thursday.”
“To the house?”
She nodded weakly.
“He brought papers.”
“What papers?”
“New offer.”
“How much?”
“Three million.”
Michael stared.
“You never told me.”
“I said no.”
“What happened?”
“He got angry.”
Sarah’s breathing accelerated.
“He said the access road had to go through our land.”
Michael glanced toward the doorway.
“Did he hurt you?”
“Not then.”
“What does that mean?”
Sarah’s eyes opened.
“He came back.”
“When?”
“I don’t know.”
She pressed her fingers against her temple.
“I was sick.”
“Sarah…”
“I remember Emily in the kitchen.”
Her voice broke.
“I knew something was wrong with me. Fever. Pain. I couldn’t stand.”
Tears rolled toward her hairline.
“I heard a car.”
Michael squeezed her hand.
“Then what?”
“I looked outside.”
Her eyes widened.
“It was him.”
“Rourke?”
“Yes.”
“I told Emily…”
“Hide the babies.”
Sarah stared at him.
“How did you know?”
“Emily remembered.”
Sarah began sobbing.
“I tried locking the door.”
“What happened?”
“I collapsed before I reached it.”
Michael’s face drained of color.
“And Rourke came inside?”
Sarah nodded.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
But her expression said otherwise.
Michael saw it.
“You do know.”
Sarah turned her face away.
“Sarah.”
“I found something.”
“What?”
“In Grandma’s documents.”
Michael waited.
“What did you find?”
Sarah whispered, “The land doesn’t just block Weston Creek’s road.”
“What does it do?”
She looked at him.
“It proves they don’t own half the property they’ve been selling.”
The discovery began with an old survey.
Sarah’s grandmother had stored everything.
Tax receipts.
Deeds.
Boundary maps.
Handwritten agreements dating back decades.
While recovering from the twins’ birth, Sarah had searched through the documents because Weston Creek claimed its proposed access road crossed only a narrow strip of Carter land.
Sarah wanted to verify it.
Instead she discovered that an original county survey placed the eastern boundary nearly eighty feet farther out than modern maps showed.
That discrepancy continued across several neighboring parcels.
If the original survey was legitimate, Weston Creek had already sold commercial lots it might not legally own.
Millions of dollars were at stake.
Potentially tens of millions.
Sarah had photographed the documents.
She had also called a property attorney.
David Rourke somehow found out.
Lena asked the obvious question.
“Where are the originals?”
Sarah stared at her.
“In the house.”
“They’re not.”
Sarah’s face went white.
