Chapter 70: The Eve of Battle

The courtroom was quiet, the air thick with the smell of floor wax and stale coffee. I sat at the plaintiff's table, my hands clasped tightly in my lap. Ben sat next to me, his suit a little too tight, his face grim. Vance was shuffling papers, a nervous tic I had come to recognize.

The defendant's table was empty.

No Edith. No Martha. Just a court-appointed lawyer who looked like he wanted to be anywhere else.

"Are we ready?" Judge Harper asked, peering over her glasses.

"We are, Your Honor," Vance said, standing up. "We are petitioning for full legal custody of Leo Sterling to be granted to Sarah Sterling, his biological aunt and de facto guardian."

"And the biological mother?" the judge asked.

"Clara Sterling is currently unfit due to medical incapacity, though she has signed an affidavit supporting this petition," Vance said. "The biological father is deceased."

The judge nodded. She looked at the empty chair.

"And the challenge from Martha Sterling?"

"Withdrawn, Your Honor," the court-appointed lawyer said. "Or rather, abandoned. My client has... disappeared."

Disappeared. A polite legal term for *fell off a roof*.

The gavel banged.

"Motion granted. Custody is awarded to Sarah Sterling."

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. It was over. Leo was mine. Legally, finally mine.

But as I walked out of the courtroom, the relief felt hollow.

*Twelve.*

The text message burned in my pocket. Ten more. Ten more versions of me, of Lucia, of Leo. Ten more victims of a legacy that refused to die.

I drove home. Not to the Hoard—that was a crime scene. Not to the Estate—that was a tomb. I drove to a small rental house on the edge of the city, a place with no history and no ghosts.

Leo was in the living room, playing with a set of blocks. Clara was watching him, a blanket tucked around her knees. She smiled when she saw me.

"Did we win?" she asked.

"We won," I said, kissing her forehead.

I went into the kitchen to make tea. The normalcy of the action felt strange, like wearing a costume. I filled the kettle. I set it on the stove.

I looked out the window. The street was quiet. A mail truck rumbled by. A neighbor walked a dog.

But I felt it. The prickle on the back of my neck. The weight of eyes.

I turned around.

The kitchen was empty.

But on the table, next to the sugar bowl, was something that hadn't been there when I left.

A package.

It was wrapped in brown paper, tied with twine. No address. No stamp.

I walked toward it slowly. The kettle began to whistle, a low, rising scream.

I picked up the package. It was heavy.

I untied the twine. I tore the paper.

Inside was a stack of photos.

The first one showed me, walking into the courthouse this morning.
The second showed Leo, playing in the yard yesterday.
The third showed Lucia, boarding a plane to Paris.

And the fourth...

The fourth photo showed my rental house. Taken from the street.

But the angle was wrong. It wasn't taken from the sidewalk.

It was taken from inside the house across the street.

I looked out the window again. The house across the street was empty. For Sale sign in the yard. Dark windows.

But in the upstairs bedroom window, a curtain moved.

Just a flutter.

I grabbed the phone. I dialed Ben.

"They're here," I whispered.

"Who?"

"The others," I said. "The ten."

I looked at the last photo in the stack.

It wasn't a photo of me. Or Leo.

It was a photo of a nursery. A new nursery. Clean. White. Sterile.

And in the crib, a baby.

But this baby wasn't sleeping. It was looking at the camera.

And its eyes were my eyes.

On the back of the photo, written in a handwriting I didn't recognize, were three words.

*WE ARE AWAKE.*

The kettle screamed.

I dropped the photo.

The front door opened.