Chapter 4 - MAYA REYES
I had never been to Portland.
My first impression was rain.
My second was that Grant Sterling had terrible timing.
By the time our plane landed, Julian had been on the ground for almost forty minutes.
Federal agents knew he was there.
They also knew something we did not like.
He had not used his own name to rent a car.
He had not booked a hotel.
And his phone had gone dark before takeoff.
“He came prepared,” Eli said.
I looked at him.
“You sound impressed.”
“I’m worried.”
“Better.”
Leo was strapped against my chest in a carrier, asleep for the first time in three hours.
Grant remained in Los Angeles under Dr. Morgan’s care.
He had wanted to come.
Morgan told him he could barely sit upright without help.
He argued.
She threatened to sedate him legally.
He stopped.
Progress comes in unusual forms.
I had not wanted to come either.
Not because I was afraid of Maya.
Because every part of this was crossing lines.
I was Grant’s caregiver.
Not investigator.
Not family envoy.
Not private messenger.
But Julian had already boarded a plane toward a woman who did not know she was in danger.
That made hesitation feel more dangerous than involvement.
So I came with Eli and two federal agents.
Grant gave me one instruction before we left.
Not an order.
A request.
“Tell her… I’m sorry.”
I had looked at him.
“For what?”
He closed his eyes.
“Everything.”
That was not enough.
But maybe it was a beginning.
Maya Reyes taught fifth grade at a public school in southeast Portland.
The principal would not let us near her classroom without law enforcement credentials.
Good.
I liked her immediately.
Maya came into the office ten minutes later.
I knew she was Grant’s daughter before anyone spoke.
Not because she looked exactly like him.
She didn’t.
She had warm brown skin, dark curly hair tied at the back, and softer features.
But her eyes were his.
Alert.
Measuring.
The kind that seemed to read the space before trusting anyone inside it.
She saw Eli first.
Her face changed.
“No.”
Eli stopped.
“Maya.”
“No.”
She looked at the federal agents.
Then at me.
“Who is she?”
“My name is Mariana Vale.”
“Are you his lawyer?”
“No.”
“Publicist?”
“No.”
“Girlfriend?”
I nearly choked.
Eli looked at the ceiling.
“No.”
Maya folded her arms.
“Then why are you here?”
I glanced toward the principal.
“Can we talk somewhere private?”
Maya laughed once.
“That is how Sterling people always start bad conversations.”
Fair.
The principal offered a conference room.
Maya entered only after asking one of the agents to remain inside.
Another point in her favor.
I sat across from her.
Leo woke.
He blinked at Maya.
She blinked back.
For one second her expression softened.
Then hardened again.
“What happened to Grant?”
She did not say Dad.
Grant.
“He’s alive.”
Her face gave nothing.
“Was he supposed to be dead?”
I looked at Eli.
He looked away.
Interesting.
“What do you know?” I asked.
Maya’s jaw tightened.
“I know Julian called me yesterday.”
My stomach dropped.
“What did he say?”
“That Grant had five days.”
Eli swore.
Maya looked at him.
“You still work for them.”
“I work for Grant.”
“Same thing.”
“No.”
She laughed.
“Men like you always discover moral distinctions after retirement age.”
Eli actually looked ashamed.
Good.
Maya looked at me again.
“What is this?”
I told her.
Not everything.
Enough.
Paralytic.
Barragan.
Grant waking.
Julian.
Sofia.
Board vote.
Trust.
Maya remained still until I said Julian had flown to Portland.
Then her face changed.
“He’s here?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I waited.
She understood before I answered.
“The trust.”
“Yes.”
Her eyes closed.
“Of course.”
“You knew?”
“I know enough.”
“What does that mean?”
Maya leaned back.
“My mother told me the Sterling family trust gave direct descendants priority over collateral family.”
“Collateral family?”
“Julian is my cousin.”
Right.
Grant’s brother’s son.
Maya continued.
“If Grant dies, I have a claim to some voting shares before Julian does.”
“Some?”
“Enough that he can’t consolidate control cleanly.”
“So he needs you gone.”
She looked at me.
“Or disqualified.”
My stomach tightened.
“How?”
“Criminal charge. incapacity. signed waiver.”
Of course.
Everyone in wealthy criminal families seemed to inherit trust language along with trauma.
I asked:
“Has Julian contacted you besides yesterday?”
Maya hesitated.
“Yes.”
“How often?”
“Three times in six months.”
“Why?”
“He wanted me to sign a renunciation.”
Eli’s face hardened.
“What did you say?”
“No.”
“Did Grant know?”
Maya laughed.
“Grant knows almost nothing about my life.”
That hurt on his behalf.
Then I remembered.
He had earned it.
“Why are you estranged?”
Maya looked at Leo.
Then at me.
“You really don’t know?”
“No.”
“Grant had my mother followed.”
I stared.
“What?”
“She tried to leave when I was nine.”
“Maya—” Eli started.
She held up a hand.
“No.”
Then to me:
“My mother, Isabel Reyes, spent twelve years with Grant.”
Not married.
Mostly hidden.
He kept her in a house in Pasadena.
Paid for everything.
Security.
Schools.
Cars.
Doctors.
On paper, luxury.
In practice, controlled.
“When she decided she wanted out, he told her it was too dangerous.”
My chest tightened.
That sounded familiar.
Not Grant now.
Grant then.
“He said enemies would use us.”
Maya continued.
“My mother said she would rather be afraid somewhere she chose.”
That sentence hit me.
“What did Grant do?”
“Put security on us without consent.”
Of course.
“She got a restraining order?”
Maya smiled bitterly.
“Against Grant Sterling?”
Right.
Different world.
“What happened?”
“She disappeared.”
My pulse stopped.
“What do you mean?”
“For six weeks.”
Eli looked down.
Maya’s eyes moved to him.
“You know.”
He closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
I stared.
“Eli.”
“Grant did not order it.”
Maya snapped:
“He created the conditions where his men thought controlling her was protection.”
Silence.
The sentence could have described half this story.
Eli continued.
“Grant’s brother Anthony ordered Isabel held at a safe house.”
Julian’s father.
Maya nodded.
“Grant found out after three days.”
“Three?”
She looked at Eli.
“My mother said six.”
Eli’s face changed.
“I was told three.”
There it was.
Even old memories had layers.
Maya continued.
“When Grant got her out, she took me and left California.”
“Did he let you?”
“No.”
She looked at me.
“He fought custody for a year.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why?”
“He said he was protecting me.”
There was that word.
Again.
Maya continued.
“My mother won because Grant’s attorney made a mistake and a judge saw sealed security records.”
“Did Grant keep contacting you?”
“For years.”
“Then?”
“I stopped answering.”
“Why?”
“Because every letter sounded like a man explaining why love entitled him to access.”
That sentence stayed.
I thought of Grant asking me to find Maya.
Not commanding.
Maybe he had learned something too late.
“Your mother?”
Maya looked away.
“Died four years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“She hated that phrase.”
“Fair.”
Leo began fussing.
I stood and rocked him.
Maya watched.
“He yours?”
“Yes.”
“Father?”
“Gone.”
“Sterling?”
I almost laughed.
“No.”
“Good.”
“Strong opinion.”
“I have experience.”
One federal agent entered from the hall.
“We have a problem.”
Everyone turned.
“Julian’s rental vehicle was found.”
“Where?” Eli asked.
“Two blocks from Ms. Reyes’s apartment.”
Maya went pale.
“Apartment?”
“Yes.”
“Is anyone there?”
She stood.
“My neighbor watches my dog.”
My stomach dropped.
Federal agents moved immediately.
Maya wanted to go.
They refused.
She argued.
I supported the agents.
She glared at me.
“I know.”
I held her gaze.
“Your neighbor may already be in danger. You arriving makes another target.”
Her anger changed.
Not gone.
Reorganized.
“Fine.”
Twenty-two minutes later we learned the apartment had been entered.
The neighbor was safe.
She had taken the dog to a park before Julian arrived.
Nothing obvious stolen.
Except one thing.
Maya’s passport.
And a framed photograph of her mother.
“Why the photograph?” I asked.
Maya’s face went cold.
“Because Julian likes messages.”
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
She looked.
A photograph.
Julian sitting inside a coffee shop.
Behind him, through the window, stood Maya’s school.
Message:
YOU HAVE UNTIL SIX TO SIGN.
Maya stared.
Another attachment.
A waiver document.
Renunciation of all Sterling trust rights.
I looked at the timestamp.
Current.
“He’s near the school.”
The agents moved.
Julian sent another message.
COME ALONE OR I SEND THE PRESS YOUR MOTHER’S MEDICAL FILE.
Maya’s face changed.
“What file?”
I asked.
She did not answer.
“Maya.”
“My mother had addiction treatment.”
“So?”
“She was sober for fourteen years.”
“Then what is he threatening?”
“Records from the custody case.”
Eli understood.
“He’ll use them to attack her memory.”
Maya’s jaw tightened.
“She spent years rebuilding her life. Grant’s lawyers used every relapse, every prescription, every therapy note.”
I felt sick.
Grant’s old war had left ammunition for Julian.
“Do not sign,” Eli said.
Maya turned on him.
“You don’t get to tell me that.”
He stopped.
Good.
I asked:
“What do you want?”
Maya looked at me.
For a long time.
Then:
“I want him arrested.”
“Good.”
“And I want the trust gone.”
Eli frowned.
“Gone?”
“I don’t want Sterling money.”
“That money includes legitimate holdings.”
“I don’t care.”
She looked at me.
“If Grant wakes, tell him I am not coming back to inherit his kingdom.”
“He is awake.”
Maya froze.
I had not told her how awake.
“He can speak?”
“Yes.”
Her face changed.
Pain.
Anger.
Something younger.
“He sent you.”
“Yes.”
“To bring me home?”
“No.”
She stared.
“To warn you.”
Silence.
“His exact message?”
“Tell her I’m sorry.”
Maya laughed.
One tear appeared.
She wiped it angrily.
“That’s not enough.”
“I know.”
She looked at me.
“You keep saying that.”
“Because he does too.”
That stopped her.
I continued:
“He did not ask me to force you. He did not ask me to bring you to Los Angeles. He asked me to find you before Julian did.”
Maya looked down.
Then:
“Can I speak to him?”
I called.
Morgan answered from Grant’s room.
Video was too risky.
Audio only.
Grant came on.
His voice was stronger than last night.
Still rough.
“Maya.”
She closed her eyes.
He said nothing else.
Good.
No speech.
No demand.
Maya whispered:
“You sound terrible.”
Grant almost laughed.
“Feel worse.”
She wiped her face.
“You deserve some of it.”
“Yes.”
Eli looked shocked.
I smiled.
Grant continued:
“Julian there?”
“Not yet.”
“Leave.”
Maya’s face hardened.
Grant caught himself.
“Sorry.”
Silence.
Then:
“Do you want protection?”
Maya looked at me.
I nodded slightly.
Not for yes.
For choice.
She answered:
“Federal. Not yours.”
Grant’s voice:
“Yes.”
“I’m not signing anything.”
“Good.”
“I’m not coming home.”
Pause.
“Yes.”
“And if you survive, we are not pretending this fixes anything.”
Grant inhaled.
“No.”
Maya’s face softened by one fraction.
Then a loud sound came from the hallway.
The federal agent at the door turned.
Shouting.
We froze.
Then fire alarm.
Red lights flashed.
Agent spoke into radio.
Smoke on first floor.
Evacuate.
My heart jumped.
Eli looked at Maya.
“Julian.”
We moved toward the rear stairwell.
Leo began crying.
Maya grabbed my diaper bag.
No discussion.
We descended.
Second floor.
First.
Smoke seeped under a fire door.
The agent opened another exit.
Alley.
Rain.
Federal vehicles.
We were ten feet from one when a black motorcycle cut across the alley.
Passenger reached.
Not for Maya.
For Leo.
A gloved hand grabbed my baby carrier.
I screamed.
Maya hit the rider with the metal diaper bag.
The motorcycle wobbled.
Eli tackled the passenger.
Federal agents surrounded them.
I fell against the wall holding Leo.
He screamed.
I checked him.
Fine.
Fine.
Fine.
Maya stood beside me, breathing hard.
The rider tried to run.
Agents caught him.
Eli pulled off the passenger’s helmet.
Not Julian.
A hired man.
Inside his jacket:
A note.
Maya read it.
IF YOU WON’T GIVE ME THE HEIR, I’LL TAKE THE BABY YOU MADE GRANT CARE ABOUT.
My blood went cold.
This was not only about inheritance now.
Julian had seen Grant’s reaction to Leo.
He had decided my son was leverage.
Maya looked at me.
“We go to Los Angeles.”
I stared.
“You said you wouldn’t.”
“I’m not going for Grant.”
She looked at Leo.
“I’m going because Julian just made your baby part of my family’s war.”
May you like
Her jaw tightened.
“And I am done letting Sterling men decide who gets used.”
