(Lucerne, Switzerland — 15 years ago)
The crystal chandelier cast golden fragments of light across the ballroom of Sterling Manor. Seven-year-old Alia Sterling crouched in the shadows of the second-floor balcony, the hem of her silk dress brushing against the marble steps. Below, her father, William Sterling, raised his glass with a smile, basking in waves of praise from guests celebrating the architect of a financial empire—until the front doors burst open with a violent crash.
A swarm of uniformed officers flooded in, brandishing search warrants. The glint of their watches stung Alia's eyes."Sterling Group is under investigation for international money laundering!"The amplified voice shattered the delicate clink of crystal.
Her mother, Cecilia, had her pearl necklace torn apart in the scuffle—pearls scattering across the Persian rug, only to be crushed beneath polished boots. Her father was forced down onto the shattered remains of the champagne tower, blood seeping from his brow into the amber drink, soaking the ear of the teddy bear clenched tightly in Alia's arms.
Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the searchlight of a helicopter sliced through the storm. The bony hand of the housekeeper, Marta, clamped over Alia's mouth as she dragged her toward the hidden passageway.
One last glimpse—her father's bloodied face, mouthing a single word:"Remember Davies."