Chapter 1: The Gates of Prescott

The day Danny Prescott—the last hope of Maple Heights’ proudest family—died, the town’s future died with him. Or so everyone thought.

I stood there, pregnant and clutching his silver class ring, falling apart at the gates of the grand old Prescott home. The afternoon sun glared off those white columns, and I could barely see through the tears streaming down my face.

All I wanted was a few warm meals, then to slip away unnoticed—just a desperate girl with nothing left to lose. I’d never begged before, not like this. But hunger makes a person do things they swore they’d never do.

Who could’ve guessed I’d go into labor early? Sometimes, fate just shoves you into the deep end before you’ve even learned to swim.

When I finally opened my eyes—

There were the two Prescott elders, each cradling a tiny bundle, grinning so wide you’d think they’d hit the state lottery.

"The nose is the same, and the eyes are the same too."

Me: "Uh… how about I stay for another year?"

The second year.

The two little ones, all dimples and giggles, looked just like their daddy—the twins were dead ringers for their daddy—like someone hit copy and paste.

Me: "Hehe, then I’ll stay another year."

The third year.

What? The Prescott family’s son has come back from the dead?

I snatched up the kids, heart pounding, ready to bolt out the back door.

And then I met a gaze cold as black glass, fixing on the three of us.

"I hear I now have both a son and a daughter?"