Last time on L.A. Connections…

A woman Riley had sex with from Noir Companions appeared at his door and handed him a baby she claimed was his. Natalie walked out on Steve after catching him with another woman. Keaton revealed his plans to take Kelly to Big Bear and propose. Tragedy struck when Lara was killed during a struggle with Suzanne over a gun. Terrified, Suzanne concealed Lara’s body beneath the window seat and called Mickey, who arrived moments later, discovered the horrifying truth, and vowed to protect her. After meticulously cleaning the crime scene, Mickey transported Lara’s body to a construction site in the Arts District, where it disappeared beneath freshly poured concrete. Meanwhile, Eddie realized Miranda had never taken Tiger to Julie’s house and that both mother and daughter had been missing for hours. Concern also mounted when Nico failed to appear at Stormy’s court hearing as promised, while inside the courtroom, Mickey noticed a mysterious woman in a black veil.

* * *

By early morning, the Blackthorne mansion had become a command center. The evacuation orders affecting parts of Bel Air had forced Eddie from his own home, and with Miranda and Tiger still missing, nobody seemed interested in discussing where anyone was sleeping anyway. The main dining room table had disappeared beneath maps, cell phones, laptops, and cups of coffee, while television coverage of the wildfires played continuously in the background.

Detective Carver stood near one end of the table with two uniformed officers reviewing notes as Eddie, Heather, James, Ethan and Alex listened.

“No phone activity from either of their cell phones,” Carver observed. “Lots of cell towers are down because of the fires. So even if they wanted to call, they might not be able to.”

“And there’s still no ransom demand,” one of the officers reported.

“Because it isn’t a ransom case,” James said.

Carver looked at him. “You still think it’s Bravetti.”

“I know it’s Bravetti,” James insisted.

Carver folded his arms. “Then answer something for me. Why now?”

Eddie frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Nico’s been out of prison for six months,” Carver began. “We’ve had people keeping an eye on him that entire time. He goes from home to the club, from the club to meetings with distributors, and occasionally disappears into motels with women he probably shouldn’t be spending time with. If revenge was his priority, he’s had plenty of opportunities.”

“He blames Miranda for his sentence,” Eddie said.

“I know that.”

“No. You don’t understand.” Eddie’s voice turned ominous. “He blames all of us, but Miranda was always different. She was the one who got on the stand and looked him in the eye almost like she had a personal vendetta.”

Then Alex spoke. “Eddie may have a point.”

Carver looked at her.

Alex glanced toward the calendar displayed on one of the laptops. “Today’s the anniversary.”

Heather frowned. “Anniversary of what?”

“The trial,” Eddie said quietly.

Everyone looked at him.

He swallowed. “Twenty-six years ago today was the day it started.”

Even Carver seemed taken aback. “Okay. If this is connected to the trial, then we stop looking at this like a random disappearance.” He turned toward the officers. “I want everything we have on Nico Bravetti. Every address, every business, every associate, every place he’s been in the last six months.”

The officers immediately got to work.

Eddie stared down at the table. For the first time since Miranda vanished, someone else in the room seemed willing to believe what he already knew. This wasn’t random. This wasn’t a kidnapping for money. Someone had taken Miranda. And if he was right, they had waited twenty-six years to do it.

October 1999

The staccato click of Alex’s heels against the floor echoed through the library of the Blackthorne mansion as she shouted across the room. 

“Stay away from my daughter!”

Nico looked up with a frown. “What?”

“You heard me.”

His expression hardened. “I told you Miranda has a crush on me. That’s not my fault.”

Alex glowered angrily at him. “And nothing you’ve done has encouraged that, is that right?”

Nico didn’t have an immediate answer.

Alex folded her arms. “That’s what I thought.”

“Nobody’s encouraging anything.”

“Really?” she snapped. “Because everyone in this house has noticed you two together. Leilani, Ethan, even the gardener.”

Nico looked away.

Alex took a step closer. “If I find out you’ve slept with her—”

“Jesus Christ,” Nico interrupted. “Of course I haven’t slept with her. She’s only fourteen goddamn years old.”

Alex studied him carefully, trying to determine whether she believed him. Finally she nodded. “Good.”

Nico exhaled, then his expression changed. “What about us?”

Alex’s eyes narrowed. “Nico—”

He stepped closer and lightly touched her arm. “Come on. This doesn’t have to end.” 

She looked down at his hand, then back up at him. “Do you really think I can continue sleeping with you now?”

Nico immediately withdrew his hand. “This is because of Miranda?”

Alex shook her head. “This is because I finally opened my eyes,” she said and pointed toward the door. “Don’t come around here anymore.”

The anger in his face slowly gave way to something colder. “Message received,” he said, brushing past her as he headed for the hallway.

Neither of them noticed Miranda standing just beyond the doorway.

Tears filled her eyes as she stared after Nico, then at her mother. The conversation had answered questions she hadn’t even known she was asking. And somehow the truth hurt worse than not knowing.

* * *

A short while later, Miranda sat on the edge of her bed, crying so hard she could barely catch her breath.

Across from her, Ethan sat in a chair near the window, watching helplessly as she struggled to pull herself together.

“It hurts,” she managed between sobs.

Ethan frowned. “What happened?”

Miranda shook her head and looked away. “He actually let me fall in love with him.”

The answer immediately told him who she meant. “Nico.”

Miranda nodded. “He knew how I felt about him.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “And the whole time he was sleeping with her.”

“Alex?”

“How could he do that? How could he let me keep believing there was something between us?”

Ethan sighed. “He shouldn’t have.”

“I thought he cared about me.”

“He shouldn’t have let you think that either.”

Miranda wiped at her eyes. “I feel so stupid.”

“No. You’re fourteen and Nico should have known better.”

For a moment she just stared at the floor. Finally she whispered, “I hate him, Ethan. I hate him so much. I’ll get him back for this if it’s the last thing I do.” 

Today 

Miranda drifted back to consciousness with a pounding headache and the taste of smoke in the back of her throat. For several seconds she had no idea where she was. The room around her was enormous, dark, and cavernous. Thick wooden beams stretched overhead while rows of dusty wine barrels lined the walls. Broken windows allowed shafts of gray light to spill across the floor, along with wisps of smoke that drifted through the building.

Panic surged through her as she tried to move. She couldn’t. Her wrists were tied behind her back.

“Tiger?” she called instantly.

No answer.

Miranda twisted as much as the ropes would allow. “Tiger!”

As panic mounted, she tried desperately to remember what had happened.

The agency. That was the last thing she clearly remembered. She had gone to say goodbye to the agency. She remembered walking out for the last time. After that she’d gone home to pick up Tiger and drive her to Julie’s house.

Miranda squeezed her eyes shut. She remembered noticing a dark SUV across the street, but after that… nothing. The memory simply vanished.

“M-Mom?”

Relief hit so hard it nearly brought tears to her eyes. “Tiger!”

“I’m here.”

The voice was directly behind her. Miranda realized with horror that they were tied back-to-back. “Oh my god.” She strained against the ropes. “Are you okay?”

“I think so.”

“Did they hurt you?”

“No.”

The answer came quickly, but Miranda could hear the fear underneath it.

“Mom, where are we?”

“I don’t know.”

Somewhere outside came the faint crack of falling timber followed by what sounded like a distant siren. Miranda’s heart sank. The wildfires.

“Mom?”

“Listen to me.” Miranda fought to keep her voice steady. “The fires are getting close.”

Tiger immediately started coughing.

“Try not to breathe too deeply.”

“What?”

“Cover your mouth if you can. Use your shoulder or your shirt. Just take slow breaths.”

Miranda heard her daughter shifting behind her. “The smoke is the dangerous part.”

Another gust pushed through the broken windows, carrying even more smoke into the winery. Miranda noticed the faint orange glow flickering through the haze outside. The fire wasn’t merely nearby. It was here.

* * *

The gates of the Bravetti estate swung open only after Detective Carver identified himself for the third time. Even then, the reception they received was anything but warm.

Carlo was waiting for them in the library when Carver, Eddie, James, and Stormy were shown inside. The old mobster sat comfortably in an armchair with a cup of espresso in one hand.

“Well, what have we here?” he asked with amusement.

Carver got straight to the point. “Where’s Nico?”

Carlo didn’t even blink. “Perhaps at the club.”

“We already checked the club. No one is there.” 

“Then I don’t know.”

Stormy’s patience snapped immediately. “Cut the crap.”

“My wife and daughter are missing,” Eddie said in a rage. “If you have any idea where they are—”

“I assure you I don’t, Mr. Distefano,” Carlo told him.

James took a step forward. “Are you telling the truth, Bravetti?”

Carlo regarded him for a moment. “James, there was a time when you called me before you called the police.”

“That was a long time ago,” James replied tightly.

“Yes,” Carlo said. “And yet here we are again.”

Carver raised a hand before things escalated. “When was the last time you saw Nico?”

“Yesterday morning.”

“Here?”

Carlo nodded. “Yes.”

James stepped forward. “And where is he now?” 

“I already told you I don’t know.”

“You expect us to believe that?” Stormy asked. 

Carlo set his cup down. “My sons are grown men. I don’t make them check in and out before leaving the house. And furthermore, you’re assuming Nico is responsible.”

“This is exactly the sort of thing he would do,” James said. 

Shaking his head, Carlo finally rose to his feet. “I specifically told him I didn’t want him pursuing personal vengeance.”

Stormy laughed bitterly. “Oh, well, if you told him not to do it—”

“Believe whatever you like,” Carlo interrupted. “But Nico knows where I stand.”

Carver folded his arms. “It’s unlikely that your son would go missing at the same time that Miranda Blackthorne did considering she testified against him at his trial that started twenty-six years ago today. The trial that landed him in prison for over two decades.” 

Now Carlo looked surprised. “So your theory is that Nico bided his time waiting until this specific day to exact his revenge?” 

“That’s exactly what we think he did,” Stormy said.  

Carver stepped toward the old man. “If you’re lying to me—”

“I’m not,” Carlo insisted.

Carver held his gaze for several seconds before he turned and headed for the door. The others reluctantly followed.

As they left, Carlo remained standing by the window, his expression growing darker by the second. The moment the library door closed, he looked toward Bruno.

“Find him.”

* * *

Smoke continued pouring through the broken windows of the winery, making every breath harder than the last.

Miranda coughed and strained against the ropes binding her wrists behind the chair. The cords cut painfully into her skin, but they refused to budge.

“Mom?” Tiger’s voice sounded frightened.

“I’m here.”

Miranda twisted her wrists again, desperately trying to find some slack. Then she heard something else.

Footsteps. The sound echoed through the cavernous winery. Someone was inside.

A figure dressed entirely in black emerged from the smoke at the far end of the room and began walking toward them.

Miranda’s heart immediately started racing. For one terrible moment, Miranda was certain it was Nico. But as the figure drew closer, she realized it wasn’t.  

It was a woman. 

“Hello Miranda,” the woman said as she neared, dressed in a black dress and black veil. 

* * *

Nico pounded on the liquor storeroom door, stopping once in a while to pace before he went back and pounded again.  

“Open the damn door!”

The handle rattled beneath his grip and the sound of his voice echoed through the cramped space lined with shelves of expensive bottles and cases of wine.

Frustrated, he raked a hand through his hair as his mind drifted back to yesterday morning when he arrived at Corso… 

Nico sat alone at a corner table when a familiar voice echoed through the empty space. 

“There he is,” Destiny Bravetti said as she approached. “My darling boy.”

Nico rose to his feet and looked at his mother with a smile. Before he could stop her, she wrapped him in a hug and kissed his cheek.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to see my beautiful son. Why else?”

Nico laughed despite himself. “Nice to see you, Mother.” 

She smiled. “Don’t be so formal, Nicodemo. You used to call me mama.” 

“Well, a lot’s happened,” he said as he made his way to the bar. 

They talked as they wandered through the club, Nico doing daily tasks that had become routine, eventually making their way toward the back.

“Do you know what tomorrow is?” Destiny asked.

“The anniversary of the trial.”

“Twenty-five years they stole from you,” she said bitterly.

“Let it go, Mother.”

“Miranda Blackthorne put you in prison.”

“I was angry about it too,” he said. “I still am. I sat in prison and dreamed about revenge.”

Destiny studied him. “So why haven’t you gotten it?” 

He didn’t answer. 

Destiny waved a hand through the air. “I have a plan. I’ll lure her to the old winery…”

Nico immediately shook his head. “No.”

But Destiny wasn’t finished. “To make Miranda pay.”

“Don’t do this.”

“It’s the only way we move forward as a family.”

Nico stopped his manic pace and looked her in the eyes. “Listen to me. I don’t want you doing anything. This is my battle, not yours. And if you try anything, I’ll stop you. I swear to god, mother.”

A moment later, Nico stepped into the storeroom to grab a bottle. The door slammed shut behind him. He spun around just as the lock clicked.

“Mom?”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“Open the door.”

“I will, my darling. But first, some things need to be finished.”

Then her footsteps disappeared…

Nico shook the image away as he continued pounding on the door. It had been almost a full day and who knows what his mother had done. 

“Open the fucking door!” he screamed at the top of his lungs. 

To his surprise, the lock suddenly clicked. The door swung open and Steve stood on the other side holding a clipboard and staring at him in confusion.

“Nico?”

Nico pushed past him.

“How’d you lock yourself in there?” Steve asked. 

“I can’t talk right now.”

“Nico—”

But Nico was already moving. He hurried through the club toward the front entrance, nearly knocking over a server in the process.

* * *

“Who are you?” Miranda asked, squinting through the smoke.

The woman tilted her head. “Don’t you recognize me?” Slowly, she reached up and lifted the black veil from her face.

Miranda’s eyes widened.

The woman smiled. “I sat in that courtroom for weeks. You had to have looked at me dozens of times.”

A sick feeling settled in Miranda’s stomach. “Nico’s mother.”

“Very good.” The woman stepped closer. “Destiny Bravetti.” Her gaze shifted past Miranda’s shoulder. “And this must be your lovely daughter, Tiger.”

Tiger shrank back against the chair.

Miranda immediately pulled against the ropes. “Leave her out of this.”

Destiny ignored her. “Such a beautiful girl. Fourteen, isn’t she? The same age as you were when we first met.” 

“Why have you brought us here?” Miranda demanded.

Destiny stared at her. “Why?” Her voice rose sharply. “Why?”

Smoke drifted between them as the old woman’s eyes filled with years of bitterness. “You can’t possibly not know why.”

Miranda said nothing.

Destiny took another step forward. “Today is the day.”

“The day what?”

“The day you sat on the witness stand and lied about my beautiful baby boy.” Her voice trembled. “The day your lies tore my family apart forever.”

Miranda shook her head. “Nico put himself in prison.”

“No.”

“Yes,” Miranda said. 

“NO!” Destiny screamed.

Before Miranda could react, Destiny’s hand whipped across her face. The slap cracked through the winery, sharp and violent, snapping Miranda’s head to the side. Tiger flinched at the sound.

For a moment, Miranda remained frozen, stunned by the force of the blow. A hot sting spread across her cheek as she slowly turned back toward Destiny. Her eyes watered, but she refused to let the tears fall. Instead, she lifted her chin, her expression hardening.

Destiny stood over her, breathing heavily.

Miranda stared back at her. Whatever fear had flashed across her face was gone now, replaced by cold defiance.

Destiny pointed directly at Miranda. “You destroyed him,” she said, then gave a frightening smile. “You know, I spent years imagining what I would say if I ever got the chance.”

Miranda’s heart pounded. “Well don’t let me stop you.”

“I imagined confronting you. Making you understand what you did to us.” She glanced toward the smoke-filled windows. Outside, the orange glow had grown brighter. “But eventually I realized something.”

Miranda swallowed. “What?”

Destiny’s smile widened. “That there was nothing left to say. There are losses no woman survives unchanged.”

The words hung in the smoky air.

Then her eyes moved from Miranda to Tiger. “And in return, you’ll both die in this room.”

Tiger gasped.

“You and your daughter.”

Miranda’s blood ran cold. “You’re insane.”

Destiny lowered the veil back over her face. “But at least my family won’t be suffering alone anymore.” 

With that, she turned and began walking away through the smoke.

“Wait!” Miranda shouted after her. “You can’t just leave us here!”

Destiny never looked back. A moment later she disappeared into the haze. The winery fell silent except for the distant crackle of fire and Tiger’s frightened breathing.

Miranda pulled uselessly against the ropes. “We’re going to get out of this.”

“How?”

“I don’t know yet,” Miranda said, then felt her daughter moving more deliberately. “What are you doing?”

“Mom, I think my phone is still in my pocket.”

Miranda’s heart nearly stopped. “What?”

“I can feel it.”

“Are you serious?”

“I think so.” Tiger twisted awkwardly against the chair. For several agonizing seconds there was only the sound of fabric rustling. Then: “I got it.”

Miranda nearly cried with relief. “Thank god.”

Then the phone slipped from Tiger’s fingers and landed on the floor with a clatter. “No!”

“It’s okay,” Miranda said quickly. “Try Siri.”

Tiger swallowed. “Hey Siri,” she whispered. When there was no audible prompt, she called again, louder this time. “Hey Siri.”

As she tried desperately to get the phone to acknowledge her, Miranda let her mind drift back to that night when everything started…

October 1999

The five teenagers wandered through the maze of soundstages at Sunset Studios with the confidence of kids who had spent their lives around movie sets. Courtney was talking about some actor she’d seen in the commissary while Heather rolled her eyes. Eddie walked alongside them, hands in his pockets, while Miranda and Stormy lagged slightly behind.

As they passed Stage 27, Stormy stopped. “Hey.”

The others turned. The giant stage doors stood partially open. Painted across a sign outside was the title: STEEL MIDNIGHT

“I think they’re doing a night shoot later,” Stormy said.

Courtney immediately perked up. “Can we watch?”

“They won’t let us,” Miranda replied. “It’s a closed set.”

Stormy looked up toward the ceiling. Then he grinned. “Not if they don’t see us.”

Twenty minutes later, the five of them were hidden high above the soundstage in the steel rafters overlooking the set below. The massive nightclub set stretched beneath them, bathed in colored lights and artificial smoke.

“This is so cool,” Courtney whispered.

“Shh,” Eddie hissed.

Below, crew members filed out for a dinner break, leaving the cavernous space empty. 

Then suddenly the opening beats of Battleflag by Lo Fidelity Allstars blasted through the speakers. The song echoed throughout the stage.

Then a sole figure entered the stage. Miranda recognized him immediately.

Nico.

A few minutes later, one of the film’s stars, Patty Ruiz, arrived. At first nobody thought much of it. But then the two started arguing. Even from high above, the exchange was glaringly hostile. 

Nico pointed at her. Patty shouted something back, then suddenly, he slapped her hard across the face. The slap echoed across the soundstage. Miranda froze. 

“Oh my god,” Courtney whispered.

Patty staggered backward, then she turned and ran. Nico immediately went after her. The two disappeared through a doorway leading to the upper catwalks surrounding the set.

For several seconds nobody spoke.

Then Stormy pointed. “There.”

Far above the nightclub set, they could see the pair reappear on a metal catwalk. The argument continued. Patty kept backing away and Nico kept advancing. Neither seemed aware how close they were to the edge. Her heels scraped against the metal grating.

Miranda’s heart pounded inside her chest.

Patty took another step, then another. The argument grew more heated and Patty’s foot missed the edge. Before she could correct her balance, she fell, with Nico positioned a few feet back watching helplessly with wide eyes. The scream that tore from her throat seemed to last forever.

Suddenly, the music stopped and the entire soundstage was plunged into silence. 

* * *

Later that night, the five teenagers sat in the game room at the Blackthorne mansion, still trying to process what they had witnessed at Sunset Studios.

“I swear he pushed her,” Miranda said.

Stormy frowned. “I don’t know. It happened pretty fast.”

“Too fast,” Eddie agreed quietly.

Miranda looked at both of them in disbelief. “He hit her and chased her onto that catwalk. What more do you need?”

Heather shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. “I thought I saw him grab her.”

“Me too,” Courtney said, though she didn’t sound entirely certain.

Miranda immediately seized on it. “See? I’m not the only one.”

“But I didn’t exactly see him push her,” Heather said. 

“Me either,” Courtney said. 

“He’s a cold-blooded killer,” Miranda insisted. “Patty Ruiz would still be alive if it wasn’t for him.”

Neither Eddie nor Stormy responded. Neither was completely sure what they had seen. Heather and Courtney weren’t sure either. From their hiding place in the rafters, they had witnessed the argument, the slap, and Patty stumbling toward the edge—but none of them had clearly seen Nico push her.

But Miranda didn’t care.

Gradually, their fragmented memories began to conform to her version of events. Doubt gave way to certainty—or at least to the certainty Miranda seemed to possess for all of them.

“So, are we in agreement?” Miranda asked, looking from one face to the next.

Eddie and Stormy exchanged uneasy glances. After a moment, they each nodded. Then all three turned toward Heather and Courtney.

Heather hesitated before giving a small nod of her own.

Courtney drew a breath and lifted her chin. “He pushed her.”

The others murmured their agreement and Miranda looked around the circle, satisfied.

Today

Ruthie moved through the crowd at the Blackthorne mansion carrying a tray of fresh coffee, distributing cups to the two police officers, and then to Alex, Jordan, Heather, and Ethan.

The sound of the front door opening caused everyone to look up in anticipation. Moments later, James, Eddie, and Stormy entered. One look at their faces told the room everything.

“Nothing?” Alex asked.

Eddie shook his head. “Nico’s not at Corso, the Bravetti estate, or anywhere.” 

“Carver stayed behind to chase a couple more leads,” James added.

The room grew silent with alarm. Then suddenly one of the officers sitting at a laptop stood up, pointing toward a large monitor mounted on the wall.

“We just got a ping,” she said. 

Alex looked at the monitor. “A ping from what?”

“Tiger’s phone.”

“Where?” Eddie asked, his voice full of hope. 

The officer enlarged a map. “The signal is weak, but it’s coming from here.” She pointed to a red circle that appeared over a remote stretch of mountains above Malibu.

Jordan immediately stepped closer. “I know that area. I used to go horseback riding up there.”

“What’s there?” Heather asked her father.

“Not much anymore,” he said. “Old ranches, a few abandoned buildings. Most of it has been left to rot.”

The second officer frowned at the map. “That’s not far from the origin point of the fires,” he said. “Those canyons are getting hammered right now. Fire crews have been trying to keep it from jumping farther south since daybreak.”

He zoomed in farther.

“If they’re actually up there, you may not even be able to reach them.”

But Eddie was already moving. “Let’s go.”

“Eddie—” James said.

“No. I have to go.” He was heading for the door.

Stormy was right behind him.

“We don’t even know exactly where they are,” the officer called after them. “And if they’re in the burn zone, you’ll never make it.”

Neither Eddie nor Stormy slowed. At that exact moment the front door opened and Keaton stepped inside.

“Did you find something?” he asked. 

“We got a location for them,” Stormy said and grabbed Keaton’s arm. “Come on.”

Keaton didn’t bother to ask where as the three of them raced out the door together.

Behind them, the officers exchanged worried looks as the monitor continued displaying the blinking signal from Tiger’s phone.

* * *

Nico gripped the steering wheel as his car climbed the winding mountain road. Visibility was almost nonexistent. Smoke rolled across the pavement in thick waves while walls of fire burned on both sides of the canyon. More than once he was forced to slow to a crawl as embers bounced across the windshield.

Any sane person would have turned around but Nico kept driving. His thoughts drifted as he wondered what The Beast would do in this situation. The man he’d become in prison, the man everyone feared, the man who solved problems with violence. What would The Beast do?

The answer came immediately. First of all, The Beast wouldn’t be driving into a wildfire to save Miranda Blackthorne. And secondly, The Beast hadn’t been coming around much lately. Ever since his release. Ever since he’d started trying to build something resembling a life.

Now there was no Beast. No prison legend. No monster. Just Nico.

And Nico was driving straight into the fire.

* * *

Smoke hung thick inside the winery now. Every breath Miranda took burned inside her lungs. She sat trembling in the chair, tears streaming down her face as the orange glow outside the windows grew brighter and brighter.

“I think my phone is dead,” Tiger said after another attempt at getting Siri to answer. 

But Miranda didn’t hear her. For years she had refused to think about it. Refused to question it. Refused to revisit what had happened on that catwalk. But there was nowhere left to run now.

“I lied,” she whispered. 

“Mom?”

Miranda squeezed her eyes shut. “I lied.” The words came out broken. “I saw her fall. I knew it was an accident, but I said he pushed her. I got everyone to go along with it.” 

Twenty-six years. Twenty-six years of convincing herself. Twenty-six years of burying it inside. And now it all came crashing back.

A sob escaped her. “I sent an innocent man to prison.”

“Mom, the fire!” Tiger screamed as flames broke through one of the windows up by the ceiling. 

Miranda barely heard her. “He lost twenty-five years because of me.” The admission seemed to hollow her out.

Outside, something collapsed in the distance and sparks floated past the broken windows.

“This is my punishment,” she whispered.

“Mom, stop.”

Tears spilled down Miranda’s face. “I deserve this.”

“Don’t say that.”

Then her voice broke completely. “But not you,” she said, twisting as much as the ropes allowed, trying desperately to reach her daughter. “You don’t deserve any of this.”

“Mom—”

“I’m so sorry, honey.” The words came through tears.

The fire crackled somewhere outside, and moments later, more flames shot through windows, breaking through glass like a furnace.  

* * *

The SUV crawled up the mountain road through a haze of smoke and drifting ash. Eddie sat behind the wheel, gripping it so tightly his knuckles had gone white. Stormy rode in the passenger seat while Keaton sat in the back, all three of them staring through the windshield as the wildfire glowed on both sides of the canyon.

The road ahead was becoming harder to see by the minute.

Then Stormy suddenly pointed. “Stop.”

Eddie hit the brakes. About fifty yards ahead, a dark vehicle sat abandoned on the shoulder. The driver’s door stood open while flames licked at the tires.

Stormy leaned forward, squinting through the smoke. Then he saw the California license plate mounted crookedly on the rear bumper: NICO78.

His blood ran cold. “That’s Nico’s car.”

Eddie brought the SUV to a stop and all three men jumped out. The heat hit them immediately. Stormy hurried toward the abandoned vehicle and looked inside. Empty.

Keaton looked around at the smoke-filled mountainside. “Where is he?”

Stormy stared up the road disappearing into the haze. A sick feeling settled into his stomach. “He’s here.” 

Eddie followed his gaze. “And so are Miranda and Tiger.” 

Without another word, they started running. 

* * *

Nico had abandoned the car when the flames got too close to the road. From there, he ran. Smoke burned his lungs with every breath as he pushed through the canyon, dodging falling branches and burning debris. More than once he stumbled, only catching himself at the last second before plunging down the rocky hillside.

Then he spotted a narrow stream cutting across the canyon floor. He dropped to one knee and scooped water into his mouth with both hands, swallowing greedily. Then he ripped off his shirt, plunged it into the stream, and wrapped the soaked fabric around his neck before taking off again.

A few minutes later, the winery loomed ahead. His heart sank. Parts of the roof were already burning. Flames crawled up the walls while smoke poured from shattered windows.

He sprinted forward. The moment he entered the building, the heat hit him like a wall. “Mother!” he shouted.

No answer.

“Miranda!”

“HELP!” Tiger’s scream echoed through the winery.

Nico followed the sound. He found them near the center of the room, still tied to their chairs as smoke swirled around them. He rushed over and stripped the wet shirt from around his neck.

“Here.” He pressed it into Tiger’s hands. “Cover your face with it. Don’t take it away from your mouth.”

Then he dropped to his knees and began working at the knots.

“Nico…” Miranda sobbed. “Nico, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I did.”

His hands never stopped moving.

“Nico. I said I’m sorry. I was selfish and spoiled and I—”

Finally he looked at her. His face was streaked with soot and his eyes were red from smoke. “I’m not worried about that right now,” he said.

The final knot came loose.

“I’m worried about how we’re going to get out of here.”

A moment later all three were on their feet.

“Come on.” Nico grabbed Tiger’s hand and led them toward the front entrance.

They had barely made it halfway across the room when a deafening crack echoed overhead. Everyone looked up.

“Oh no,” Miranda whispered.

A massive burning beam tore free from the ceiling and crashed directly in front of the doorway. Flames exploded outward. The exit vanished behind a wall of fire. The three of them skidded to a stop. The heat pouring from the flames was becoming unbearable.

Nico looked toward the burning doorway. “We’re going to have to make a run for it.”

Miranda stared at the wall of fire. “We’ll never make it.”

“We don’t have a choice,” he said and reached for her arm. “Come on.”

“No. Get Tiger out first.”

“Miranda—”

“Get my daughter out of here!”

For a split second they stared at one another. Then Nico nodded. Without another word, he scooped Tiger into his arms. “Hold your breath.”

Before anyone could protest, he charged into the flames.

Tiger buried her face against his shoulder as they burst through the burning doorway and out into the smoky morning air.

Nico stumbled several feet from the building before lowering her gently to the ground. “You okay?”

Tiger coughed violently but nodded.

Just then the sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the smoke. Stormy, Eddie and Keaton emerged from the haze and immediately spotted Nico kneeling over Tiger. Everything happened at once.

“YOU!” Eddie charged.

“Wait—” Nico started.

Too late. Stormy and Keaton grabbed him while Eddie drove a punch into his jaw. Nico crashed backward onto the dirt.

“Where’s Miranda?” Eddie screamed.

“Stop!” Tiger’s voice cut through the chaos. “Mom’s still inside!”

The color drained from Eddie’s face. He looked at Tiger, horrified. Without another word, he turned and sprinted toward the winery. The others could only watch as he disappeared through the smoke and flames.

Seconds passed, then a minute. The winery groaned as fire consumed more of the structure.

Keaton stared at the burning building. “Where are they?”

No one answered. Tiger was crying. Stormy paced helplessly.

Then Nico looked toward the entrance. “It’s taking too long,” he said, then took off running.

He vanished into the inferno. The minutes that followed felt endless. Everyone stood staring at the building. Then suddenly a figure emerged through the smoke.

Eddie.

Miranda was in his arms.

“Mom!” Tiger cried.

Eddie stumbled clear of the building and lowered Miranda to the ground. Tiger immediately threw herself against her mother. Miranda wrapped her arms around her daughter and held on tightly.

Around them, relief swept through the group. Then a loud crack echoed through the canyon. Everyone looked up. The roof of the winery sagged.

“Get back!” Stormy shouted.

The building shuddered once, then again. Then the entire framework collapsed inward in a shower of sparks and flame. The sound was deafening.

For several moments nobody moved. Everyone simply stared at the burning wreckage.

Keaton was the first to find his voice. “Nico was still inside.” 

Miranda slowly lifted her head. “No.”

The word barely escaped her lips. But there was no sign of him. No movement. No figure emerging from the flames. Only the burning remains of the winery disappearing into the wildfire.

And as the realization settled over them, a terrible silence fell across the canyon. Nico had gone back into the fire to save them, and he had never come back out.

* * *

Several hours later, Miranda sat upright in a hospital bed at Cedars-Sinai with an oxygen mask covering her face.

The room was crowded. James and Alex stood on either side of the bed, each unwilling to stray very far from their daughter after nearly losing her. Eddie remained close by as well, while Stormy, Heather, Keaton, Jordan, and several others occupied the waiting room just outside.

James leaned down and wrapped his arms around Miranda. “I thought I’d lost you.” When he pulled away, he shook his head in disbelief. “I still can’t believe it was Destiny Bravetti that took you.”

When the door opened and Detective Carver stepped inside, everyone immediately looked at him.

“Did you find her?” Eddie asked.

Carver’s expression darkened. “No sign of Destiny. It’s possible she perished in the fire.”

Miranda looked down at the blanket covering her lap. “What about Nico?”

Carver hesitated. “We found human remains inside the winery but the fire damage was extensive. Right now they’re too badly burned to positively identify.”

Miranda closed her eyes as images flooded back. Nico cutting the ropes, Nico carrying Tiger through the flames, Nico running back into the building.

“He came up there to save us,” she said with a trembling voice. 

Just then the door burst open.

“Mom!” Tiger ran into the room.

Miranda immediately held out her arms. Tiger threw herself against her, nearly knocking the oxygen mask sideways as Miranda wrapped both arms around her daughter and held on tightly.

Standing around them, everyone silently gave thanks that at least one miracle had come out of the fire.

* * *

The sound of waves drifted through the open terrace as Brett and Sharon lay together in bed, enjoying one of the few peaceful moments either of them had experienced in days.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said the other day,” Sharon said quietly as she traced a finger along his chest.  

Brett smiled. “That I love you?”

She nodded and lifted her head so that she could look into his eyes. “I love you too.”

The words immediately softened his expression. He leaned over and kissed her, but when they pulled apart, Sharon looked troubled.

“But we still can’t be together.”

“Because of Carlo?”

“Yes,” Sharon replied, her tone full of resignation.

Brett stared at the ceiling for a moment before sitting up. “Then let’s leave. Let’s get out of Los Angeles and start over somewhere else.”

Sharon studied him. “You can’t be serious.”

“What do I have keeping me here?” he asked. “Jordan fired me. Everything I’ve spent years building has fallen apart.”   

“What about Violet?”

He looked away. “She’d probably be better off.”

“No, she wouldn’t,” Sharon said firmly. “I’ve seen her with you, Brett. That girl loves you and needs you.”

Brett was quiet for a long moment. “But I want to be with you.”

The vulnerability in his voice broke her heart. “I know,” Sharon said softly as she reached for his hand. “But running away isn’t going to fix this.”

Neither of them had an answer after that. They simply sat together listening to the waves, both wishing the solution were as simple as leaving town and starting over.

* * *

Carlo sat alone in the study at the Bravetti estate, a cup of espresso resting untouched beside him as the door opened and Bruno entered with Dennis close behind.

Carlo looked up. “Well? Did you find Nico?”

Bruno exchanged a glance with Dennis. “Got some news, boss.”

Carlo leaned back in his chair. “What is it?”

“You aren’t going to like it,” Dennis told him as he stepped forward and placed a large manila envelope on the desk.

Carlo’s expression darkened. Slowly, he opened it.

The first photograph showed Sharon standing on the terrace of Brett’s house. The second showed Brett joining her, standing behind her with his arms wrapped around her and his lips pressed against her neck. 

The third showed them kissing.

Carlo’s jaw clenched. He continued flipping through the photographs. The drone had captured them through the floor-to-ceiling windows from outside the house. There was no question about what he was looking at or what it meant. By the time he reached the final photograph, the room had fallen completely silent.

Carlo tossed the stack onto the desk and the pictures slid across the polished wood surface. For several moments nobody spoke.

Finally, Carlo looked up and his eyes hardened. “I had a suspicion she was having an affair, but I had no idea it was with him.”

Neither Bruno nor Dennis responded.

Carlo rose slowly from his chair and walked toward the window overlooking the estate. Below, the city stretched toward the ocean, its skyline blurred by smoke from the fires still raging across the hills. In the distance, a dull orange glow pulsed through the haze. After a long silence, he turned back toward his men.

“Do they know they were being watched?”

Bruno shook his head. “No.”

“Good.” Carlo glanced down at the photographs one last time, then he smiled. It was not a pleasant smile. “Because I have plans for both of them.”

And somewhere across the city, neither Brett nor Sharon had any idea how much danger they were suddenly in. 

* * *

Waves rolled onto the beach below Blake’s house in Santa Monica as Heather climbed the front steps and rang the bell. A moment later, Betsy’s excited barking erupted from somewhere inside, followed by the sound of approaching footsteps.

When the door opened, Blake stood there in a tank top and gym shorts. “Heather.” He smiled and stepped aside. “This is a nice surprise.”

“I’ve been meaning to check on you,” she said as Betsy came charging up and immediately began sniffing her shoes. Heather laughed and bent down to scratch behind the dog’s ears. “And I’ve been meaning to thank the real hero of the story.”

Blake chuckled. “Yeah, she’s been enjoying the attention.”

“I hear she practically saved your life.”

Betsy wagged her tail furiously.

“Goes to show,” Blake said, “they really are man’s best friend.”

“You can definitely say that again,” Heather said and looked him over. “You doing okay?”

Blake spread his arms. “Still standing.”

Just then Iris emerged from the kitchen carrying a mug of coffee. “Heather? What are you doing here?”

“Eddie told me you were staying here after Mrs. Tremond’s house burned down, and listen, before anything else, I’m really sorry about what happened. I know Sadie’s your sister and it can’t be easy.”

Iris lowered her eyes. “Thank you. I’m sorry things didn’t work out at the agency too. I know you guys took a chance on me, and then Sadie got involved and everything just spiraled.”

Heather waved the concern away. “Well, considering the agency doesn’t exist anymore, I don’t think I can blame you.”

“So what are you going to do now?” Iris asked.

Heather shrugged. “Something for me, for a change.”

“Good,” Iris said. “So why did you want to see me?”

A grin slowly spread across Heather’s face. “I got a call from a casting director in New York.”

Iris blinked. “Okay…”

“They saw your two episodes of Trauma Room and they loved your work.”

“That’s because she knocked it out of the park,” Blake said and playfully jabbed Iris’s arm. 

Heather couldn’t help smiling. “They’re casting a new lead for Homicide Division.”

Iris’s eyes widened. “The cop show?”

Heather nodded. “They asked if you’re available.”

The coffee mug nearly slipped from Iris’s hand. “Oh my god.”

“They want you to fly to New York.”

“When?”

Heather’s smile widened. “As soon as possible.”

The news finally sank in. With a squeal, Iris threw her arms around Heather. “Oh my god! Oh my god!”

Heather laughed as Iris nearly lifted her off the ground.

“I knew it,” Iris said. “I knew something good had to come out of all of this eventually.”

Blake was laughing now too. “Congratulations.”

Iris released Heather and immediately turned to him, then, without warning, she threw her arms around Blake as well. “Did you hear that?”

“Pretty sure the whole neighborhood heard it.”

“They want me in New York!”

For the first time since Sadie’s arrest, Iris looked genuinely happy. And for the first time in a long while, the future suddenly seemed full of possibilities instead of regrets.

* * *

Finally, there were no frantic phone calls, no police investigations, and no fresh crisis waiting around the corner. Some of the wildfires had been contained, though several continued to burn in the hills, their smoke still hanging over the city. James and Ethan sat across from one another in the library at the Blackthorne mansion, glasses of cognac resting in their hands.

“I remember thinking at the trial,” James said after a long silence, “that Destiny was a force. She was the one constantly railing against Miranda, Stormy, and the others—but especially Miranda. Carlo just sat there beside her. Never said a word.”

Ethan slowly swirled the amber liquid in his glass. “The judge nearly had her removed more than once.”

James nodded. “She didn’t care.”

“No,” Ethan said quietly. “She wanted everyone in that courtroom to hear her.”

For a moment, neither man spoke.

Then Ethan looked toward the darkened windows. “I can still hear her screaming Miranda’s name from across the room. The bailiffs were dragging her toward the doors, and she was fighting them every step of the way.”

James’s expression darkened as the memory returned.

“She kept saying Miranda had destroyed her son,” Ethan continued. “That one day, Miranda would understand what it felt like to have someone she loves taken away.”

The firelight shifted across James’s face. “At the time, everyone thought it was grief,” he said.

Ethan raised his glass but did not drink. “Maybe it was a promise.”

The thought unsettled James to his core. To think what could have happened to Miranda and Tiger had Nico not gotten there in time. If either of them had been hurt, or worse yet…

After a long stretch of silence, Ethan took a big drink from his glass and glanced up. “Can I bend your ear about something?”

James smiled. “Of course. What’s on your mind?”

Ethan shook his head. “Do you ever think about Windsor?”

James frowned. “You mean Windsor, Kansas? Where we’re from?”  

“Yeah.”

“Occasionally, I suppose.”

Ethan nodded slowly. “I almost never do. At least I didn’t used to.”

“But?”

“But lately I’ve been dreaming about it,” Ethan confided in his uncle. 

James leaned back in his chair. “What kind of dreams?”

Ethan was quiet for several seconds. The easy mood that had filled the room seemed to fade slightly. “Actually, they’re more like nightmares. I keep dreaming about a man. A man who scares the hell out of me.”

That got James’s attention. “What man?”

Ethan shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” James asked.

“In the dream, I’m a kid. Maybe ten years old. I’m back in Windsor, but everything looks wrong. The streets are empty, the houses are dark. I can hear insects buzzing in the fields, but there aren’t any people anywhere.” Ethan tightened his grip around the glass. “And then I realize he’s behind me.”

James felt a chill. “Is it your grandfather Marcus?”

James’s father had terrified most people who knew him, but that wasn’t it.  “No.”

“Nathan?” James suggested. “Or maybe it’s your father?”

Again, Ethan shook his head. “No. It’s not anybody I recognize. He has this accent. Southern, but more than that. Almost hillbilly like.”

“Then what happens?”

“I run.” Ethan’s voice had grown quieter. “I run as fast as I can, but I never hear him chasing me. No footsteps. No breathing. Nothing. I’ll look back, and he’s still standing at the end of the street. Then I turn around again, and suddenly he’s right behind me.”

James said nothing.

“He puts his hand on my shoulder.” Ethan unconsciously touched the same spot, as though he could still feel the weight of it. “He tells me not to be afraid, and then he says, ‘You know better than to run from me, boy.’”

James’s face went white.

“Then I’m standing in front of him, crying, holding an ice cream cone. I don’t know where it came from. It’s melting down my hand, dripping onto my shoes, and I can’t stop shaking.”

“And the man?”

“He watches me eat it.” The words came slowly now, each one seeming to cost Ethan something. “He tells me to finish it. I don’t want to, but he makes me keep eating. He just smiles and tells me good boys don’t waste what they’re given.”

James lowered his glass.

“He isn’t angry with me,” Ethan continued. “He isn’t excited. He’s completely calm, like whatever he’s about to do is something he’s done a hundred times before.”

James leaned forward. “What is he about to do?”

“I don’t know.” Ethan looked up at last, visibly unsettled. “I always wake up before I find out.”

James took a sip of his cognac. “You don’t remember anything from Windsor that might connect to him?”

Ethan stared into his glass. “Nothing.”

After a few seconds, James shrugged. “Well, you’ve been under a lot of stress lately. Between making partner at your firm, everything that’s gone on since you got to town…” He waved a hand dismissively. “The brain does strange things.”

“That’s probably all it is.” Ethan finished his drink and stood. “Just my subconscious working overtime.”

James smiled. “If you start dreaming about killer clowns too, then I’ll worry.”

Ethan laughed and headed toward the door. But as he stepped into the hallway, the smile faded. For reasons he couldn’t explain, the image of that faceless man holding an ice cream cone felt less like imagination and more like a memory trying very hard to be remembered.

* * *

Suzanne stood in the middle of the living room, a cup of coffee in her hands as she stared at the floor. Mickey’s interior designer stepmother had a new rug delivered at his request. It was beautiful, expensive, and completely unremarkable. No one looking at it would ever know why it was there. No one would know what had happened in that spot. Still, she couldn’t stop looking at it.

Every time her eyes drifted toward the floor, her mind filled in the details the rug concealed. The struggle, the gunshot, Lara collapsing. The memory felt as vivid as if it had happened moments ago.

She was so lost in thought that she didn’t hear Mickey emerge from the bedroom. Only when his arms slipped around her waist and his lips brushed her neck did she jump.

“Sorry,” he said with a faint smile.

Suzanne let out a shaky breath. “No. It’s me.”

Mickey turned her gently toward him. “How are you?”

The question alone was enough to crack her composure. “I can’t stop replaying it.” Her eyes immediately filled with tears. “Every time I close my eyes, I see it again. I see her face. I hear the gun.”

Mickey pulled her closer. “You have to stop doing that to yourself.”

Suzanne looked away. “I killed someone.”

“It was an accident.”

“That doesn’t change what happened.”

Finally Mickey lifted her chin. “If you keep reliving it every minute of every day, you’re going to make yourself sick.”

Fresh tears slid down her cheeks.

“What’s going to happen the first time you see James?” he asked. “Have you thought about that?”

Suzanne’s expression turned to panic. The thought alone was enough to make her stomach knot.

“He’s going to ask questions. He’s going to want answers. You’re barely holding it together now.”

Suzanne wiped at her eyes. “So what am I supposed to do?”

“For now, you need to stay away from him.”

She looked unhappy immediately. “Mickey—”

“Just for a little while. Until you get over the shock of what’s happened.”  

The suggestion made sense. “I don’t know how I’d ever be able to look him in the eyes again.”

“Then don’t put yourself in the position,” Mickey said.

Stifling tears, she nodded in agreement. 

“Also, I was thinking that I should move in here,” Mickey said. 

Suzanne blinked. “What?”

He placed a hand along her back. “It’s the only way I can protect you.”

The words hung between them. Part of her wanted to object and the other part knew he was right. In the end, exhaustion won. “All right.”

A smile crossed Mickey’s face. “Good,” he said and kissed her forehead. “I’m going to run back to the house and grab a few things. I won’t be long.” 

As he headed toward the bedroom to get dressed, Suzanne’s eyes drifted back toward the rug. The smile disappeared from her face. No matter how hard she tried, she still couldn’t stop seeing what had happened beneath it.

* * *

When the elevator doors slid shut, Mickey checked to ensure he had everything. Keys, wallet, cell phone. He patted the pockets of his jacket and realized he still had Lara’s cell phone. For a moment he simply stared at it, then he unlocked the screen and opened the photo gallery.

Most of the recent images were exactly what he’d expected: selfies, screenshots, photographs of James, and a handful of pictures from happier times. As he scrolled, a video thumbnail caught his attention. The timestamp was from the night Lara died. Mickey frowned and tapped it.

The footage began abruptly with a violent blur. The phone appeared to have landed on its side against a sofa leg after striking the floor. For several seconds, all that was visible was a crooked view of the living room and the legs of furniture. Then movement entered the frame. Feet, two women struggling. The image shook each time they collided with something.

Mickey turned up the volume and Lara’s voice emanated from the device. 

“Shoot me, Suzanne. They’ll put you away for murder, and then no one gets him.”

“You are insane.”

“No one’s going to help you! I’ll fix it so nobody ever helps you again.”

“Lara, I am warning you!”

The struggle moved farther from the phone.

Then came Lara’s voice again, shrill and unhinged. “No more beautiful Suzanne!”

The women disappeared partially out of frame as a gunshot exploded through the speaker. The image jolted. For a second there was only silence. Then a body collapsed into view. Lara. Not clearly enough to identify every detail, but enough.

Mickey stared at the screen. Slowly, he pressed play again. This time he watched more carefully. He listened to every word, every sound, every desperate breath.

The footage confirmed what Suzanne had been too traumatized to articulate. Lara hadn’t come to the condominium for a conversation. She hadn’t come to make peace. She had arrived drunk and looking for a confrontation. Even through the limited angle of the video, her intent was unmistakable. She had gone there to hurt Suzanne. Possibly to kill her.

Whatever mistakes Suzanne had made afterward, whatever panic had driven her actions, the video made one thing abundantly clear: Lara’s death had not been murder.

The elevator doors opened and Mickey slipped the phone back into his pocket and walked out.

When he arrived home to the Bravetti estate, he went upstairs to his room. For a moment he stood there thinking about Suzanne and the fear in her eyes. He thought about how convinced she was that her life was over.

Then he reached into his pocket and removed Lara’s phone. The device felt strangely insignificant considering what it contained. 

He walked to the far wall and removed a painting from its hook. Behind it was a wall safe. He entered the code and it clicked open. He placed the phone inside among the other valuables and documents he kept private.

Then he closed the door and reset the lock before replacing the painting over it. To Mickey, the phone was out of sight and out of mind.

* * *

Kelly wrapped her arms around Keaton the moment he stepped through the front door.

“You were so brave,” she said. “Running into those mountains like that.”

Keaton shook his head. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You did plenty.” Her expression softened. “I’m just thankful Miranda and Tiger are okay.”

“Me too,” Phoebe said from the living room.

For a moment the three of them stood there in relieved silence.

Then Keaton clapped his hands together. “Okay. Pack.”

Kelly frowned. “What?”

“Pack a bag. Both of you.”

“Why?” Kelly asked. 

Phoebe laughed. “You surely don’t want me going wherever it is you’re thinking of going.”

Kelly smiled. “Why not?”

Phoebe shrugged. “Because I’m assuming this is some romantic getaway.”

Keaton looked between them. “We’re going to Santa Barbara.”

“Santa Barbara?” Kelly asked.

“Why?” Phoebe added.

Keaton turned toward her. “Because what you told me about your mother’s husband got stuck in my head. I think we should get to the bottom of why you’re so affected by Matthew’s plane crash.” 

Kelly immediately brightened. “I am completely on board with a road trip,” she said, then started to her bedroom. “I’ll start packing.”

The moment she disappeared, Phoebe looked back at Keaton. “I thought you were going to propose to Kelly this weekend.”

Keaton smiled faintly. “That can wait.”

Phoebe looked surprised. “Keaton—”

“No.” His voice softened. “I’ve been watching you these last few weeks. I can see how much this is affecting you.” He stepped closer. “You need closure. And if Santa Barbara is where we find it, then that’s where we’re going.”

Phoebe felt an unexpected lump form in her throat. “Thank you.”

Keaton smiled. “Hey, we’re about to be family. This kind of stuff goes with the territory.” 

Phoebe stared into his eyes, amazed again at what a kind and decent man he was. 

* * *

Riley fumbled with keys and the diaper bag while clutching the tiny baby girl in his arms. He stepped out of his apartment and found a note taped to the door. With no other hands available, he stuffed it hastily into his pocket.

The maternity ward at Cedars-Sinai was unusually busy for a weekday morning when he arrived. Nurses moved briskly through the corridors, family members clustered near waiting areas, and the occasional cry of a newborn drifted from somewhere deeper inside the unit.

Riley stepped off the elevator carrying the baby carrier carefully against his chest and approached the nurses’ station. 

A nurse looked up from her computer. “Can I help you?”

“I’m Riley Weir.”

Her expression immediately brightened with recognition. “Oh, yes. You’re here about the DNA test, correct?”

“That’s right.”

The nurse glanced at her screen and nodded. “Looks like everything is already set up.”

Riley let out a small breath of relief. “Good.”

The nurse stood and walked around the desk. “Before we do the testing, the pediatric team would like to give her a comprehensive examination just to make sure she’s healthy.”

Riley looked down at the sleeping infant. “That’s fine.”

“We shouldn’t be too long, but it may take a little while. Why don’t you have a seat in the waiting area?”

“Sure.”

The nurse gently took the carrier from him. “We’ll take good care of her.”

Riley managed a smile. “Thanks.”

As the nurse disappeared through the secured doors with the baby, Riley headed toward a row of chairs overlooking the city. He sat down and rubbed his hands together nervously. Only a few days ago he hadn’t known this child existed. Now he was waiting to find out whether she was his daughter. The thought was enough to make his stomach knot.

Suddenly, he remembered the note that had been taped to his door. He thought maybe it was from the infant’s mother. Retrieving it from the pocket of his jeans, he unfolded it and read.

Riley, I’m going back to Minnesota. I can’t believe this is how our dream ends. We came to Los Angeles believing we were going to build a life together, and somewhere along the way we lost sight of who we were and what we wanted. I hope you find it again. Goodbye, Riley. Natalie.

Across the room, a television mounted near the ceiling quietly replayed coverage of the recent wildfires while families came and went around him. Riley barely noticed any of it. His attention remained fixed on the finality of Natalie’s note, and the doors through which the nurse had disappeared, and the tiny little girl on the other side of them.

* * *

Nurse Melissa carried the baby carrier through the secured doors and into the newborn nursery, where a dozen bassinets sat beneath soft lighting and the steady hum of monitors. The little girl Riley had brought in slept through the transfer.

“Let’s get you checked out, sweetheart,” Melissa murmured as she lifted her from the carrier and settled her into an empty bassinet near the nurses’ station.

A moment later her pager vibrated. Melissa glanced down and sighed. “Of course.”

Looking across the room, she caught the attention of another nurse. “Angela, can you do the buccal swab for the paternity test? Baby girl Weir?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks. I’ll be back in a minute.” Melissa hurried from the room.

A few minutes later, Angela performed the quick mouth swab and attached the paperwork. “Weir,” she said as she completed the label.

The sample was sealed, placed in a transport pouch, and handed off to an orderly headed toward the lab.

Just as he left, another nurse entered carrying Jane and Stormy’s newborn daughter. The baby was crying loudly.

“Can you take a look at the Blackthorne baby?” the nurse asked. “Her hands and feet are getting puffy.”

Angela immediately frowned. “Let me see.”

She examined the infant and quickly spotted the problem. “The wristband. Someone put this on way too tight.”’ 

“Poor thing.”

Carefully, they removed it, and almost immediately the baby began settling down.

“There we go,” Angela said. “Much better.”

The swelling already appeared less pronounced.

“I’ll print a replacement band.”

Then the overhead speakers crackled. The announcement that followed instantly changed the mood throughout the nursery.

“Attention staff. Due to changing wildfire conditions and out of an abundance of caution, the maternity ward will be temporarily relocated to the east wing. Please begin transfer procedures immediately.”

Both nurses looked up. “What?”

Outside the nursery, the hallway suddenly came alive with activity. Doctors appeared, administrators hurried past, phones began ringing. Within moments the calm rhythm of the unit had dissolved into controlled chaos.

“Let’s move,” Angela said.

Everyone sprang into action. Bassinets were wheeled into formation, charts were gathered, parents were being notified. Staff members moved quickly from one infant to the next, verifying paperwork and preparing for transport.

In the middle of the confusion, Angela hurried to the printer and grabbed a freshly generated identification band. “Blackthorne,” she muttered.

A baby cried nearby. Someone called her name. A physician asked a question. Without looking twice, she fastened the replacement band onto the nearest bassinet and rushed away.

* * *

Well over an hour later, the doors to the makeshift maternity ward opened and Nurse Melissa emerged carrying a newborn dressed in a yellow onesie.

“Mr. Weir?”

Riley immediately stood.

Melissa smiled as she placed the baby into his arms. “Well,” she said, “congratulations, Dad. It’s a girl.”

Riley stared down at the infant, hardly able to believe what was happening.

“The DNA test came back positive. You’re the father.”

For a long moment he simply looked at her. His daughter. Slowly, the baby wrapped her tiny fingers around one of his.

Riley laughed softly, his eyes filling with emotion. “Hi there.”

The baby yawned and settled against his chest.

Melissa smiled. “I think she’s already attached to you.”

Riley never looked up. As he adjusted the blanket, he noticed a faint reddish indentation around one of the baby’s wrists, almost like something had been wrapped a little too tightly around it earlier.

His brow furrowed. “What’s that?”

Melissa glanced down briefly. “Oh, probably just from one of the identification bands during the exam,” she said. “It’ll fade and I promise she’s in no pain.”

Riley nodded and thought nothing more of it. His attention quickly returned to the little girl in his arms. The tiny mark was already forgotten.

* * *

“I mean it,” Jane said, reaching for Stormy’s hand as she sat up in her hospital bed. “I’m proud of you.”

Stormy looked uncomfortable. “For what?”

“For going up there. For helping bring Miranda and Tiger home.”

Stormy squeezed her hand. Before he could respond, a nurse entered carrying their daughter.

“All better,” she said cheerfully. “She just needed a new wristband.”

Jane immediately held out her arms and the nurse placed the baby in them.

Jane smiled down at her daughter, then paused. “Huh.”

“What?” Stormy asked.

“She was wearing a yellow onesie earlier.”

He glanced down. The baby was dressed in pink.

The nurse looked over. “Oh, she probably got something on it in the nursery room. We change babies’ clothes all the time around here. I’ll make sure you get it back once it’s washed.”

Jane nodded. “Okay.”

A moment later she had forgotten all about it.

She and Stormy sat together staring down at their daughter, completely captivated.

* * *

A few floors below, the hospital room had finally grown quiet. Miranda sat alone in bed, absently rubbing her wrist as she stared out the window. Then she froze.

Her bracelet.

She looked down at her bare wrist. “Oh no…”

Panic spread across her face as she searched beneath the blanket, then checked the bedside table as though it might somehow be there.

A nurse entered carrying a chart. “Everything okay?”

Miranda looked up and removed the oxygen mask from her face. “I had a bracelet. It was gold, in the shape of a panther. My husband gave it to me for my birthday.” She held up her wrist. “Did they take it off when I was admitted?”

The nurse glanced at the chart before gently shaking her head. “No. You weren’t wearing a bracelet when you arrived.”

Miranda’s expression fell. “You’re sure?”

“Yes. I’m sorry.” The nurse offered an apologetic smile before quietly leaving the room.

Miranda looked back down at her empty wrist, confusion giving way to a quiet, sinking dread.

* * *

Somewhere else, far from the hospital, Miranda’s bracelet caught the light.

A woman turned it slowly in her hand, the Cartier panther gleaming as its jeweled eyes stared back at her. Nearby, a television murmured in the background.

“Miranda Blackthorne and her fourteen-year-old daughter with hotel magnate David Jennings survived the apparent kidnapping,” a news anchor reported, “but Nico Bravetti, the man Miss Blackthorne’s testimony helped send to prison for twenty-five years in the murder of actress Patty Ruiz, is believed to have perished in the blaze.”

The black veil lay folded beside her, unmistakable in the shadows.

Destiny Bravetti’s hand tightened around the bracelet.

Her face remained still, but her eyes burned with grief and rage as she fastened it around her own wrist.

“You took my son from me not once, but twice, Miranda,” she whispered, her voice trembling with hatred. “Now I’m going to take everything that ever mattered to you.”