Everything had happened so fast that the Jordan family could barely wrap their heads around it. In his mad dash to get downstairs, Michael completely missed Koen Ward taking Avani away. Instead, he caught a glimpse of Cristian about to step into a car, and that was all it took for him to bolt over.

“Oh, Mr. Ward!” Michael beamed, his smile so wide it was almost manic. “What an unexpected pleasure to see you here! Your presence truly honors our humble home!”

As Michael spoke, the rest of the Jordan clan—his parents, Mr. Jordan, Mrs. Jordan, and even the household staff—poured out to welcome Cristian, each wearing a smile that screamed desperation. In front of this towering, intimidating man, they practically groveled.

Cristian Ward was the current head of the legendary Ward family, a titan in high society and business alike. A mere nod from him could yank the Jordans out of the deep shit they were in. They were desperate to kiss ass—and figure they could milk this chance for all it was worth.

The Jordans were staring down disaster, but if Cristian Ward stepped in, their luck could flip overnight. The dream of rubbing shoulders with the upper crust felt so damn close they could taste it.

Cristian, though, met Michael’s fawning greeting with a steely gaze and a face carved from stone. “The Jordans,” he said, his voice clipped. “Very well.”

And with that, he turned away, leaving Michael and his whole family standing there like fools, wracking their brains over what the hell those cryptic words meant.

Mrs. Jordan whispered, “Did Mr. Ward compliment us? Does this mean he’s actually gonna help?”

Mr. Jordan, ever the skeptic, frowned deep. “That look on his face didn’t exactly scream ‘compliment’ to me…”

Michael quickly ordered someone to figure out what had gone down. When they learned Cristian and his crew had rolled in en masse to take Avani, his expression crumpled. They found out some man in black had wrapped Avani up warm, calling himself her uncle.

It hit Michael like a lightning bolt. Suddenly, every piece clicked into place.

The Ward family was famous for having eight sons and only one treasured daughter, who'd been kept out of sight because of her fragile health… Could it be that the woman he’d taken in four years ago was actually Cristian’s sister—their precious girl?

Regret flooded the Jordans like a tidal wave. They’d been sitting on a goddamn gold mine this whole time and had no clue. Now, they were in full-blown panic mode, staring down the weight of their colossal screw-up.

Mrs. Jordan’s voice trembled. “She was a Ward… We have to get Avani back, and fast…”

If only they’d known—hell, they never would’ve treated her like dirt.

Michael, now drowning in guilt, replayed every time he’d punished Avani. A cold dread settled in his gut. Frustrated, he snapped, “How the hell are we supposed to bring her back now? It’s not up to us anymore!”

Mr. Jordan’s furrowed brow showed his mind was churning. “We’re still Avani’s family—her real grandparents and her father. The Wards might be pissed, but they can’t change that. And don’t forget, that thing with Hannah really did happen…”

They’d only been disciplining her to keep her from turning into some spoilt brat! Michael had just lost his temper in the heat of the moment…

The Jordans convinced themselves they could explain everything, and once the air was cleared, they’d be swimming in money and status.

***

After scooping up Avani, the Wards headed straight for the nearest hospital instead of home.

The swanky clinic, normally as quiet as a library, was chaos on the top floor. Nobody dared speak above a whisper. Tension hung like a heavy fog, the beeping machines and hurried footsteps of doctors and nurses the only sounds.

Mr. Ward paced the corridor, his cane tapping an anxious rhythm. “Why haven’t we heard anything yet?” he demanded.

Cristian glanced at his watch, fighting to keep his cool. “Dad, please, sit down.”

Avani had been rushed to the hospital and wheeled directly into the emergency room. Koen Ward had gone in with her, but there was still zero news.

Inside that room, Koen’s hands shook as he looked at Avani’s bruised, battered little body.

Severe frostbite, broken bones—a busted arm, leg, even ribs… The poor kid was a mess. And the frostbite was so bad in some spots that amputation was a real possibility.

How the hell could a child barely over three years old suffer through all this?

Koen’s eyes burned red as he leaned close to her unconscious form.

“Avani, it’s Uncle Koen. Can you hear me?” His voice was low, gentle as a lullaby.

“If you can, sweetheart, please hold on. Be strong…”

Avani’s eyes were shut tight, but for the first time, her body felt light and warm.

The world around her was dead silent, except for a voice whispering right by her ear:

“Avani… little Avani…”

“Can you see me? Can you hear me?”

Who was that?

Avani tried desperately to open her eyes, but they just wouldn’t budge.

She was dying to answer, to let them know she could hear every word, but no sound came out.

***

It took three hours of surgery before Avani was finally out of danger. The doctors called it nothing short of a miracle.

She was wheeled into a room, tubes and wires snaking everywhere.

Koen, his face grim, handed the medical report to Cristian. As the Ward family scanned it, they struggled to bottle up their rage.

Mr. Ward ground his teeth, fury blazing. “Un-fucking-believable. She’s not even four, and they treat her like this!”

Cristian had already done a deep dive on the Jordans. Ice-cold, he reported, “Their products were flagged for smuggling, landing them in hot water. They’ve been begging us for help ever since.”

Mr. Ward let out a bitter laugh. “They should consider themselves lucky if I don’t destroy them, and they think we’re gonna help?”

His rage was a living thing—he was itching to grind the Jordan family into dust.

“Don’t worry,” Cristian assured him. “Their fall will be quick and brutal.”

Mr. Ward fell silent, his lips a tight line, before he finally asked, “And what about Fiona…?”

Cristian didn’t answer.

The Manchester were over a thousand miles from Washington—a world away.

Four years ago, Fiona Ward, deathly ill and battling amnesia, had somehow ended up in the Manchester, where Michael Jordan took her in.

When she gave birth to Avani, Fiona was already critical, barely surviving the delivery.

Maybe knowing her child was there gave her two more years before the sickness came back to claim her. Then she was gone, leaving Avani all alone.

Their beloved sister—the one they’d treasured—had died in a foreign land, unknown, unrecognized, a ghost to the world…

Cristian’s fists clenched so tight his knuckles went white, his rage only making his icy demeanor even colder.

Mr. Ward wisely stopped asking questions. He wasn’t sure he could handle the answers.

Koen asked, “Why the hell did they hurt Avani like that?”

Cristian’s tone was pure frost. “Michael’s wife, Hannah, miscarried after falling down the stairs. Michael was convinced Avani pushed her.”

The Ward family’s faces darkened in unison.

Right then, word came that the Jordans had tracked them down and arrived.

Cristian’s assistant stepped in quickly, voice low. “Mr. Ward, the Jordans are here. They’re claiming they want to see their granddaughter…”

Cristian’s laugh was dark and merciless. “Turn off the heat on this floor and open the windows. Let them wait.”

***

Michael, Grandpa, and Mrs. Jordan ended up waiting outside the VIP floor for what felt like forever, a wall of security guards blocking their way.

Told to wait by Cristian’s assistant, they had no choice but to shut up and deal.

Mrs. Jordan grumped, “Why won’t they let us in? We’re her grandparents! Since when does family get turned away at the damn door…?”

Michael, fuming and out of patience, gritted his teeth. “Just. Wait.”

He knew he’d gone way too far with punishing Avani, and the Wards had every right to be pissed.

But it didn’t take long for the Jordans to notice something was off—the hallway was getting colder by the second.

They were parked right by the open windows, and the icy wind sliced through them, chilling them to the bone.

Mrs. Jordan, used to being pampered, was the first to start shivering like a leaf. “What kind of bullshit weather is this? I can’t stand it!” she whined.

Mr. Jordan scowled. “Michael, go find someone and ask what the hell is going on!”

Sure, the Wards’ anger was understandable—a little waiting was no big deal. But they’d been out here for over half an hour now.

In this kind of cold, nobody could last.

Michael searched for answers but came up with nothing while they shivered in the icy hospital corridor, kept waiting by the Ward family. The wait felt never-ending, like a punishment.

Eventually, Mrs. Jordan was the first to crack. "I'll check on Hannah…" she murmured, and left. Hannah was in another section of the hospital, focused on the maternity ward.

Michael and Mr. Jordan were barely holding it together but felt forced to stay put. They grumbled under their breath, totally clueless that their nightmare was just getting started.

**

Avani's world was a symphony of beeping machines and muffled voices. But one voice cut through, sharp and clear—

[Avani, hey, Avani!]

[Wake up, huh? If you don't, I'll…]

The voice buzzed around her like a swarm of bees, low-key irritating.

Who was that?

Her eyes fluttered open to stark white walls.

A small crowd huddled around her bed; she pressed her lips together, cautiously scanning her surroundings.

Koen Ward reacted first, blurting out with excitement, "Avani, you're awake! I'm your Uncle Koen…"

The Ward family watched her, barely breathing, their eyes glued to her face.

Little Avani's mind felt blank. "Uncle Koen?"

Her delicate face was expressionless, like a fragile porcelain doll. Saying "Uncle Koen" felt more like repeating a word than naming a real person.

Mr. Ward's jaw tightened as he looked at Avani. She looked so tiny in that huge hospital bed, her frail body practically swallowed by it.

The sight hit him right in the chest, almost stealing his breath.

Koen Ward softened his voice, gently touching Avani's head. "Avani, I'm your mom's younger brother, Koen Ward. You called me, remember?"

Avani's lashes fluttered before she hesitated, then answered softly.

Yes, she remembered…

She had tried to call Uncle Koen, but no one had answered.

Did they not want her?

"Are you here to take me home?" Avani asked, her voice barely a whisper.

The men around her bed nodded eagerly. Griffin Ward spoke up, "Avani, I'm your Uncle Griffin. We're here to take you home."

Mr. Ward's voice thickened with emotion. "That's right, we're taking Avani home, where no one will ever hurt you again. Anyone tries, they'll have to answer to me."

Avani glanced around, uncertain.

Home?

Would they toss her aside once they brought her 'home'? Would they hurt her? Let her go hungry?

Her silence made the Ward men uneasy; they were clearly out of their depth with a kid. All eyes turned toward Cristian and Griffin.

Cristian, forty, had two kids of his own. Griffin, thirty-eight, was a father, too.

Cristian hesitated. "What's Avani worried about?"

His icy tone drew irritated glares from his brothers.

Griffin, fumbling for the right words, coughed, then failed completely and ended up pacing in frustration.

Koen sighed, bending closer to Avani, gently stroking her hair. "Avani, tell Uncle Koen your name."

Avani's gaze drifted to the ceiling. After a moment, she spoke. "I don't have a name. I'm just Avani."

Her father had said he'd pick a name after her stepmom gave birth to her brother—leaving her with nothing.

Koen's heart ached for this nameless little girl. What kind of hell had she been through with the Jordans?

Swallowing his rage, he asked softly, "What's on your mind, baby?"

Avani slowly turned her head to look at the man claiming to be her uncle.

That day, her world had been dark and silent—until this man broke through, like a ray of light slicing through the shadows.

Her lips trembled. "Uncle Koen, will there be food at home?"

The question hit everyone like a punch to the gut.

Food at home?

Before anyone could respond, Avani whispered again, "Will I be hit?"

Those two short questions nearly shredded Mr. Ward to pieces.

The child was scared of going hungry, terrified of being hit.

What horrors had she faced with the Jordans?

She hadn't had enough to eat. She'd been cold every winter.

No one comforted her after nightmares. No one cared if she soaked her summer clothes in sweat.

Mr. Ward turned away, lips pressed tight, fighting to hold back tears as his eyes burned red.

The Ward brothers clenched their fists, fury simmering, careful not to scare Avani.

Koen took Avani's tiny hand and pressed it against his cheek, his voice hoarse. "Avani, sweetheart, you'll have all the food you want at home. No one will ever, ever hit you."

"See, this is Uncle Cristian, Uncle Griffin, Uncle Quinn…"

"They're all amazing."

"We'll protect Avani. No one can hurt her ever again."

Avani clutched the blanket, staying silent for a long time.

The Ward family feared she might never speak again, but then suddenly she did. "Uncle Koen, Avani didn't push anyone. Daddy and grandpa want me to confess, but I won't…"

Her stubbornness was plain on her doll-like face, even through the sadness in her eyes.

Avani wondered whether her uncles really cared.

Would they still want her after knowing she wouldn't admit to what she didn't do?

Koen's throat tightened, tears threatening to spill, while Mr. Ward dabbed at his own eyes.

Cristian spoke calmly. "Uncle knows it wasn't you. You're doing the right thing by not confessing."

Koen added, "They're wrong, Avani. Not you. You did good."

At that, Avani's lips wobbled, and tears suddenly poured down her cheeks.

She'd held back for so long. Now the tears spilled out against her will.

Little Avani kept her defiant expression even as she choked out, "But Daddy doesn't believe me."

"Daddy says I killed my brother."

"Grandpa said if I didn't admit it, he'd never let me out."

Finally voicing all her pain, Avani cried, the words tumbling out.

At three and a half, no matter how stubborn a kid is, they still feel hurt.

Koen swallowed his fury, vowing, "He doesn't deserve to be called your father!"

Cristian cut in sharply, "Koen!"

Koen fell silent, though fury and disgust seethed inside him. He imagined going after the Jordan patriarch, fists first.

After talking and crying, Avani quickly fell asleep again.

Outside, Koen asked Cristian, "Are we really letting the Jordans off this easy?"

Was just bankrupting them enough?

Cristian methodically unbuttoned his cuffs, calmly rolling up his sleeves. "Eight against one. Doesn't that sound fair?"

Eight against one.

The second Cristian Ward's words dropped, something fierce lit up in the Ward brothers' eyes, each of them burning with a look that said they were ready for anything.

Koen Ward cracked his knuckles with a low, threatening pop. Usually the cool, collected pilot, Griffin kept things smooth when he spoke. "In a society ruled by laws, of course, we can't just openly throw punches, right?"

He turned and caught a passing nurse's attention with an easy smile. "Hey, do you guys keep burlap sacks around here?"

The nurse blinked, totally thrown. "We, uh, do, but we've also got cardboard boxes if that's more what you need…"

She figured he needed something to carry stuff in and boxes would be way more practical.

Griffin just smiled, polite as ever. "Thanks, but the burlap sacks will do just fine."

After all, if certain steps had to be taken, a little discretion never hurt.

The Ward brothers traded a look, a silent, mutual nod sealing the plan.

**

At the end of the VIP hallway, on the other side of a heavy door, the wind outside was straight-up brutal.

Michael, stood there shivering his ass off. He'd been out there all damn night, and even now with the sun peeking over the horizon, nobody from the Ward family had shown.

Mr. Jordan couldn't pull an all-nighter, so he'd ordered Michael to wait it out, hoping to look as sincere as possible.

The early spring chill cut deeper than the dead of winter. Michael was at his limit—frozen, starving, dead on his feet, and all he could think about was a hot shower and crashing into bed.

The second that thought hit, toughing it out any longer felt impossible. After another hour, he decided to bail for now.

Down in the underground parking garage, Michael dialed his phone while walking, "Make sure you keep eyes on everything. When Mr. Ward steps out, hit me up immediately—"

Before the word "me" could leave his lips, everything went pitch black—a burlap sack had been yanked over his head!

Then, out of nowhere, fists started raining down. "What the fuck— Who the hell are you?!"

Fueled by pure, righteous fury, the Ward brothers went to town on Michael. Normally, they wouldn't stoop to this kind of thing, but thinking about Avani's injuries and her tiny, scared questions about food and if she'd get beaten at home, their blood just boiled over.

Michael could only howl in pain, completely helpless to fight back.

"Stop…"

"You have any idea who I am? I'm Michael Jordan, CEO of Broadgate Corporation! If you've got the balls to mess with me, you'll see if—"

Cristian Ward cut him off cold, a smirk twisting his lips as he loosened his tie and raised a hand.

The Ward brothers froze on command, but Koen Ward was still right there, gripping a steel rod and narrowing his eyes at Michael like a predator sizing up prey.

Michael, mistaking their pause for fear, actually thought he'd scared them off.

But then—CRACK—the steel rod came down on his leg with brutal, bone-shattering force!

"AHHH—!!"

Michael's screams tore through the underground garage, echoing off the concrete.

**

Beaten beyond recognition, Michael landed right back in the hospital—hell, he'd never really left, 'cause they'd hauled him straight back in.

Bruised and busted up, he had no clue who jumped him. They'd left zero trace, nothing to ID them, and now he wasn't just hurting—he was so furious he could practically choke on his own rage.

His wife, Hannah Mendez, stood at his bedside, her tears dripping with way too much drama. "You feeling any better, Michael?"

If Michael could open his swollen eyes, he'd see right through the phony concern in her gaze.

Dressed in a patient gown, Hannah played the role of the worried, doting wife to perfection. But inside, she was a nervous wreck, eaten alive by jealousy.

How the hell had that little brat Avani become the one-and-only darling of the Ward family?

When Mrs. Jordan had spilled the news to Hannah, her heart had dropped into her stomach in sheer panic.

She'd engineered her own fall, making damn sure Avani took the heat. With the Jordan family one bad move from financial ruin and Michael staring down bankruptcy, Hannah was desperate to jump ship.

Young, hot, and seeing a shot at a way better future, she wasn't about to be dragged down by a kid tying her to a sinking family.

So, she'd gotten rid of the baby, staging the whole thing to look like Avani had shoved her.

In her head, Avani was nothing but a weed the Jordans ignored. Michael, in a drunken stupor once, had even called Avani a total embarrassment and wished she'd vanish.

Using Avani as her scapegoat should've been risk-free—or so Hannah had thought.

But now? Avani had been revealed as a Ward—a name that commanded major respect among the big-shot families.

Hannah was flat-out terrified the truth would come out.

What the hell was she supposed to do? She needed a plan, and fast, to make sure Avani couldn't breathe a word against her.

**

In the quiet VIP hospital room, Avani's eyes fluttered open. The room was dead silent and totally empty.

Her little heart sank, convinced everyone had left her behind.

A lost, abandoned look fell over the tiny girl's face, loneliness written all over her features.

Just then, the door creaked softly, and Koen Ward stepped back in.

The light flickered in Avani's eyes, a tiny glimmer of hope sparking back to life.

The Ward family had been asked by Mr. Ward to step out and let the room air out a bit since it'd gotten way too stuffy.

Koen's voice was gentle as a whisper. "Avani, sweetheart, you feeling a bit better? I've got breakfast right here. You want some?"

Avani gave a small nod, and Koen immediately signaled for the breakfast tray to be brought in. The movement stirred the rest of the Ward family, and in seconds, they were crowding around her bed, all eyes on her.

Mr. Ward asked softly, "What sounds good to you, sweet pea? We've got ravioli, pulled pork, some warm dinner rolls…"

Koen Ward, the most restless of the bunch, jumped in way too excited, "Spaghetti carbonara! It's freaking amazing!"

Mr. Ward gave Koen a solid thump with his cane. "Spaghetti? The girl just woke up, how's she gonna handle spaghetti?"

He held out a plate of sausage instead. "Avani, how about a little sausage? They're steamed real soft—melt in your mouth, promise."

Koen lifted a bowl of oatmeal, his smile warm and easy. "Maybe starting with some oatmeal would feel nice too."

Avani glanced around at all of them, her nose tingling with a swell of emotion she didn't quite understand. She felt this sudden, unfamiliar urge to just burst into tears.

Was this what having a real family felt like?

Sniffling, she murmured, barely above a whisper, "Grandpa… I'd like some sausage, please…"

Mr. Ward's eyes went glassy, and he nodded fast, his voice thick. "Of course, sweetheart! Sausage it is, all for you!"

The Ward family looked at Avani and saw a ghost of young Fiona Ward staring back.

Their Fiona, so wild and carefree, sometimes a little firecracker—she was nothing like this. But here was their granddaughter, so afraid of getting anything wrong, so desperate to please, her voice tiny as she called him "grandpa."

Barely three and a half years old, and she'd already learned to read the room just to survive.

The Ward family's hearts just cracked open, watching Avani so guarded, so careful.

It wasn't until she'd eaten and drifted back to sleep that they all crept out on tiptoe, silent as shadows.

She hadn't been asleep long when, with her eyes still closed, that voice came again:

[Little sweetheart, little sweetheart…!]

Avani's eyes flew open, darting around the room.

Nobody was there…

At first, she thought it was just a dream messing with her, but the moment she shut her eyes, the voice crept back:

[Avani, little Avani, little sweetheart!]

Little Avani clutched the bedsheet, her heart thumping as her gaze darted toward where the voice seemed to be coming from…