Chapter 2 - The midnight cashmere
Richard Sterling was a man who commanded the very air around him. A famous billionaire industrialist, he was broad-shouldered, rugged, and deeply masculine. He carried the kind of heavy, terrifying composure that made powerful men nervous and sprawling boardrooms fall dead silent. Tonight, he wore a custom midnight-black tuxedo that fit his massive frame with tailored perfection. A luxury platinum chronograph watch glinted on his thick wrist, and his polished shoes gleamed under the warm Christmas lights. He had come outside to escape the suffocating, fake small talk of the gala, but the sight of his sophisticated sister-in-law tormenting a starving child immediately darkened his rugged features.
Richard ignored the valets. He ignored the wealthy guests murmuring his famous name. He walked directly down the carpeted stairs, his jaw set in a hard, unforgiving line. Lucy was backing away into the shadows of the street, shivering violently now that the adrenaline of sheer fear had hit her tiny system. She wrapped her small, freezing arms around herself, trying to retreat into the oversized coat. Richard stepped right past Camille, not even giving the beautiful woman in silver a single glance, and knelt on the freezing pavement in his custom tuxedo. The sheer size of him shielded Lucy completely from the biting wind. He didn't say a word. He simply unbuttoned his heavy, incredibly warm cashmere overcoat, slid it off his broad shoulders, and gently draped it around the little girl’s trembling frame.
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The coat was massive on her, engulfing her like a warm, protective tent. As Richard carefully pulled the thick lapels together to shield her neck from the cold, Lucy instinctively reached up to hold the soft fabric closed. As her small hand gripped the cashmere, the frayed, oversized sleeve of her own winter coat slipped down past her wrist. Richard froze entirely. The air seemed to vanish from his lungs. There, on the fair, rosy skin of her inner forearm, was a distinct, crescent-shaped birthmark. It was perfectly arched, slightly darker than her natural skin tone, sitting just above her wrist bone.
Richard’s breathing stopped. He slowly turned his own wrist over, pushing back the cuff of his crisp white dress shirt and the heavy platinum watch. On his inner forearm, in the exact same place, was the exact same crescent moon. It was a genetic anomaly, a specific, rare trait that had been passed down exclusively through the Sterling bloodline for four generations. His heart slammed against his ribs with the force of a freight train. He looked up at the little girl’s face, really looking at her for the first time. Beneath the dirt and the redness from the cold, he saw the undeniable shape of her eyes. He saw the exact structure of her jaw. Camille, realizing Richard was completely ignoring her, took an arrogant step forward, unaware of the devastating truth sitting right in front of them.
