Chapter 1

At twenty-eight, I was waiting tables at a restaurant when a lawyer in a black suit suddenly stepped in front of me and handed me an inheritance document worth fifty million dollars.

It was left by a grandfather I had never once met. I thought maybe fate was finally cutting me a break — that my four-year-old son Leo and I could finally live like normal people.

But that night, Leo clutched my leg with both arms, pointed at a water stain that had appeared out of nowhere on the ceiling, and sobbed like his heart was breaking: "Mommy, that boy — the one soaking wet — he says if we take the money, we're both going to die…"

I snapped my head up. A single drop of ice-cold water fell and hit me right between the eyes.

It was ten o'clock at night. The restaurant had just closed.

I was rubbing my aching back, getting ready to haul out the last bucket of kitchen slop.

A man with a briefcase and gold-rimmed glasses appeared in the back kitchen doorway, blocking my path.

"Ashley Miller?"

He held out a business card. It had the name of some high-end law firm printed on it.

I took a cautious step back, still gripping my dirty rag.

"You've got the wrong person. I need to get back to work."

"Theodore Miller passed away three days ago." The lawyer pushed his glasses up, his expression blank. "He owned an estate in the western suburbs and a fifty-million-dollar trust fund. Under the terms of his will, you are the sole legal heiress."

My head started buzzing.

Theodore Miller.

The old man who thought my mom wasn't good enough, who pressured my dad into divorcing her, and who slowly drove her into depression until it killed her.

I had never laid eyes on him my entire life.

All I remembered was my mom on her deathbed, gripping my hand so tight her bony fingers left marks in my skin.

"Ashy, don't touch a single thing from the Miller family. Not one cent. It's dirty. It destroys people."

I took a slow, deep breath and threw the rag into the sink.

"I don't know anyone named Theodore Miller. I don't want the money. Please leave."

The lawyer didn't look surprised. He pulled a thick stack of documents from his bag and pressed it into my arms.

"Ms. Miller, I've already signed on your behalf. Theodore Miller's instructions were clear — you have to accept this. Everything goes into effect tomorrow."

He didn't give me a chance to argue. He turned and walked away, disappearing into the dark.

I stood there holding the heavy documents, my hands and feet gone cold.

By the time I got back to the basement apartment I rented, it was almost midnight.

The place never got any sunlight. The air always smelled faintly of mold.

My four-year-old, Leo, was sitting quietly on the fold-out bed, playing with a beat-up Ultraman toy.

When he saw me come in, he scrambled off the bed on his little legs and threw himself into my arms.

"Mommy, you're home!"

I held him tight, breathing in the faint milky smell of him, and felt the strange dread in my chest ease just a little.

I tossed the documents onto the table and went to heat up some water so Leo could wash his face.

But the moment I turned around, Leo screamed.

"Ahhh—!"

It was pure terror in his voice. It hit me like a needle straight to the eardrum.

I spun around.

Leo was staring up at the ceiling, his little finger pointing, his whole body shaking like a leaf.

"Mommy… water… so much water…"

I looked where he was pointing.

Sometime in the last few minutes, a large dark-yellow water stain had spread across the ceiling of the basement.

It was still growing, like something was slowly seeping through from above.

Drip.

A drop of water hit the floor near Leo's feet.

Leo suddenly threw his arms around my leg and buried his face in my pants, his voice going strange and high:

"Mommy, that boy is crying… He says he's so cold… He says if we take the money, we're both going to die…"

Every hair on my body stood up.

Above the basement was the building's garden courtyard. There were no water pipes up there.

Where was the water coming from? What boy?

I scooped Leo up into my arms, my voice shaking. "Leo, don't scare me like that. What boy?"

Leo squeezed his eyes shut, tears streaming down his face, his little fists twisting tight into my collar.

"The boy in the school uniform… he's soaking wet… he's standing right behind you…"

My breath stopped.

A wave of cold hit my back — deep, bone-level cold, like someone had just been pulled out of icy water and was standing pressed against my spine.