Henry Stone could no longer sit still.
"As a daughter of the Stone family, is it really so hard for you to see the Stones do well?" he snapped.
"Yes," Mia answered calmly.
"Mia Stone!"
"My two sons," she cut in, no longer willing to circle around the point. "Where are they? When you forced me to marry into the Reed family, you promised I could see them."
"I only promised to keep them alive," Henry said coldly. "If you want to see them, bring me the Azure Bay project in exchange. Otherwise, you'll never lay eyes on them for the rest of your life."
A harsh little laugh slipped from Mia's lips.
She laughed louder and louder, as if she'd just heard the funniest joke in the world.
Wasn't it laughable?
That there could be a father this calculating toward his own daughter?
She thought, even if she dropped dead in this house right now, this "good father" of hers would probably sit down and figure out what her corpse was worth—maybe even arrange a ghost marriage with her body if it could bring some benefit to the Stones.
Henry's face reddened with anger.
"What are you laughing at?" he barked.
"Dad, don't bother with her. She's just ungrateful—ah!"
Rachel didn't get to finish.
She shrieked instead.
Mia had shoved her down onto the sofa and pinned her there. With a flick of her fingers, a thin silver needle appeared and pressed against Rachel's beautiful cheek.
"Mia Stone! What do you think you're doing?" Mrs. Stone shouted.
"I wouldn't move if I were you, Miss Stone," Mia said coolly. "One slip and your face is gone."
Mrs. Stone's composure shattered.
"Let her go!" she screamed. "If you hurt her, I'll never forgive you! Henry, look at your daughter!"
Henry's face darkened, rage and injured authority burning in his eyes.
"Mia, you've gone too far! I'm ordering you to let Rachel go!"
Mia's expression was ice.
Her pretty face seemed covered in frost.
"Either you let me see my children," she said, "or I ruin Rachel's face."
"Rachel!" Mrs. Stone sobbed. "Henry, do something! We can't let her hurt our daughter's face!"
Henry clenched his jaw.
"Let her go," he said. "I'll take you to see those two little bastards."
"Bring your precious darling along," Mia said lightly.
She grabbed Rachel by the collar and hauled her to her feet like a chick.
Something dark flashed in Henry's eyes, but he turned and led them down the hall to a storage room.
Rage flared in Mia's chest.
She had sacrificed so much for this family, and these animals had locked her child in a storage room like trash.
She shoved Rachel aside and strode forward, flinging the door open.
Inside, boxes and junk were piled haphazardly.
In one dim corner, a thin, frail little boy was curled up, pressed into the angle of the wall. At the sound of the door opening, he flinched so hard his whole body shook.
He stared at them, large dark eyes full of fear and wariness.
Mia's breath caught.
It felt like a giant hand squeezed around her heart. Tears spilled over before she could stop them.
She slowly sank into a crouch and held a hand out to him, voice trembling.
"Baby, it's Mommy," she whispered. "Come to me."
The boy didn't move.
He only trembled harder, like a frightened, cornered animal.
"Don't be scared," Mia said softly. "Mommy would never hurt you."
She took another small step toward him.
She moved as gently as she could, but it still sent him into a panic.
He screamed, flailing his tiny arms, trying to push her away. His already ill-fitting clothes were yanked askew, riding up to expose most of his back.
Mia's gaze froze.
Her face changed in an instant.
She lunged forward and seized his wrist.
The boy, terrified, sank his teeth mercilessly into her arm.
Mia didn't seem to feel it.
She used her free hand to yank his shirt up, fully baring his back.
Skin and bone.
Crisscrossing scars, old and new.
Mia's voice rang out, sharp and furious.
"This is not my child!"
Henry's heart lurched.
"How is he not your child?" he barked. "What are you making a fuss about now?"
"My two children both have a hawk-shaped red birthmark on their lower backs," Mia said, eyes blazing. "This boy doesn't have one."
Henry had never paid enough attention to notice something like that.
"Maybe you remembered wrong," he said.
"Impossible."
Mia's tone was like iron.
When she gave birth, she'd already been in prison. She'd known from the start her sons wouldn't be allowed to grow up beside her.
So even though she'd been exhausted to the point of collapse, she had forced her eyes open to look at them—really look at them.
They had been beautiful twin boys.
The older one had the birthmark on his left waist.
The younger, on the right.
"Dad, just tell her." Rachel's voice dripped with malice. "One of her brats died right after he was brought back here. The other one was raised to two and then got lost. He's probably a little beggar on the street by now, begging for food somewhere!"
She still held a grudge over Mia's earlier retaliation. Watching Mia's face twist with pain filled her with vicious satisfaction.
"Courting death," Mia hissed.
She grabbed Rachel by the shoulders and slammed her against the wall, then drove the silver needle ruthlessly into an acupoint on her shoulder.
White-hot pain shot down one side of Rachel's body.
Her arm went dead.
She screamed.
"Mom! Help me! It hurts! It hurts so much!"
She stared at Mia in horror.
Mia's gone insane!
Mrs. Stone's eyes went bloodshot. She snatched up a vase from a side table and hurled it at Mia's head.
Mia spun and lashed out with her foot.
Her heel caught Mrs. Stone squarely, sending her crashing to the floor.
Henry stared at the chaos, veins bulging at his temples.
"This is outrageous!" he roared. "Mia, do you still see me as your father at all?"
"I want to see my children!" Mia shot back.
"Those two brats—one's dead, the other's lost!" Henry snapped. "You'll never see either of them again in this lifetime!"
He finally dropped the pretense.
His eyes were cold and vicious.
"And if you keep this up, you don't care about your mother either, do you? I paid for her grave, remember. You keep making trouble, and I'll dig her up and toss her onto the street."
Mia went still.
She slowly turned her head to look at him.
"You promised you'd take care of my children," she said.
Her words came out slowly, each one trembling with rage and despair.
Henry lifted his chin.
"It's not my fault they were useless," he said. "What was I supposed to do?"
"I was a fool," Mia whispered. "To actually believe you'd look after them."
A sharp, tearing pain ripped through her chest.
There was a bitter taste at the back of her throat.
She choked—and blood burst from her lips.
Her body swayed.
She staggered back until her shoulders hit the wall, the only thing keeping her from collapsing. Her mind was blank.
For five years, the only thing that had kept her alive in that dark, airless prison had been the belief that one day she would be reunited with her sons.
And now that belief had shattered.
Everything she'd endured had been for nothing.
Henry watched her bloodless face and, for a fleeting second, felt a prickle of guilt.
He patted her shoulder.
"Mia, you're still young," he said. "You can always have more children in the future. Stop thinking about those two brats."
Smack.
Mia knocked his hand away.
Her dark eyes pinned him in place.
"Don't call them brats," she said, each word like a knife. "They're my babies. The ones I love most in this world."
She drew a deep breath.
Her voice came out clear and final.
"From today on, Mia Stone has nothing to do with the Stone family. We are done."
She turned and staggered out of the Stone house.
She left the estate and went straight to the cemetery.
By then, a light rain had begun to fall.
Mia stood before a granite headstone, quietly looking at the photograph embedded in it.
Her mother smiled back at her from the picture, bright and radiant.
After a long time, Mia set two little pinwheels down in front of the grave.
A gust of wind swept past, and the pinwheels spun, clacking softly in the drizzle.
Mia did not look back.
She walked step by step down the mountain.
With every step, her resolve hardened.
No matter how far she had to go—no matter what it took—she would find her children.
In the taxi, the driver kept glancing at her in the rearview mirror.
"What were you doing at a cemetery in weather like this?" he asked.
"Missing family," Mia said.
She unlocked her phone and sent a text.
"Immediately steal every project Stone Group is currently negotiating. At any cost."
The driver's eyes filled with sympathy.
"Whatever's happened, miss," he said, "you still have to take care of yourself. All right?"
Mia's reply was soft but firm.
"I will."
She would take care of herself.
Otherwise, how else was she supposed to live long enough to watch the Stones get exactly what they deserved?