Chapter 2: Hunger and Lies

A few months back, locusts tore through Silver Hollow, leaving only dust and withered stalks where corn used to grow. The famine hit hard—nobody was spared.

To survive, I snuck onto a riverboat in the dead of night, riding it all the way to Maple Heights—a town I’d only heard about in stories.

My stomach twisted with hunger, dizzy and half-blind. I clung to a heavy silver class ring, jaw clenched, shouldered through the crowd, and finally collapsed in sobs at the Prescott gates, the big iron archway looming over me.

An older woman—hair like snow, voice trembling—stood at the entrance, tears streaking her cheeks. She locked onto the ring in my hand and my round belly, her face draining of color. "Where did you get that ring?"

"You… your belly… what is your relationship with Danny?"

I was so choked with grief and guilt I couldn’t answer, just cried harder, until the world faded and I fainted cold on the Prescott porch.

"Someone! Quick, help this young lady inside!"

Voices whirled around me, hands lifting me, but deep in my heart, for the first time in months, I felt a sliver of relief.

Because the child in my belly had absolutely nothing to do with the Prescotts’ Danny.

That day, the boat I’d slipped onto wasn’t just any boat—it was the Prescott family’s own riverboat, all polished wood and brass railings.

To avoid being caught, I spent my days curled up in a musty trunk in the lower cabin, listening to footsteps thumping overhead.

At night, I’d sneak out like a raccoon, scavenging scraps from the galley, praying nobody would notice a missing crust of bread.

One night, I nearly got caught. Heart pounding, I stumbled into a grand stateroom—

And tripped right over a swollen, waterlogged male corpse, his hand releasing a silver class ring that clattered to the floor.

That was the first time I saw it up close.

The ring bore a fancy, old-fashioned P. Maybe it’d fetch a few bucks at a pawn shop if I could just get off that boat in one piece.

But as soon as I set foot in Maple Heights, I realized I was holding something much hotter than I’d bargained for.

Turns out, the boat was sent by the Prescott family to retrieve Danny’s body from Silver Hollow.

And the ring belonged to Danny Prescott—the scion of the most powerful family in the county.

The Prescotts of Maple Heights were legends—half the town square seemed named after them.

Their patriarch, the original Mr. Prescott, was the founding principal of Maple Heights High. Half the county’s council members had studied under him or owed him favors.

Grandpa Prescott had once been mayor, then made a fortune in grain and seed, supplying half the state through his warehouses and mills.

By the time Mr. Prescott took over, their business spanned the entire Midwest, shipping everything from wheat to specialty corn. Everyone knew their name.

And Danny? Folks said he was handsome as a young Paul Newman, the brightest kid in Maple Heights. Valedictorian at eighteen, off to Yale on a full ride, with a smile that made girls swoon.

Yet in his prime, he chose to serve—volunteering for a government mapping project, traveling through backwater towns and wild rivers, helping chart out lands for the future.

A hometown hero. The kind you’d expect to see shaking the mayor’s hand at the Fourth of July parade.

But on his last trip, passing through Silver Hollow, he ran into a riot, and that’s how he died—alone, far from home.

That corpse I’d tripped over was him.

Eight generations of single heirs, and with Danny’s death, the Prescotts’ line was finished.

Once I pieced all this together, I realized pawning Danny’s ring would probably land me in a cell, maybe worse. The kind of scandal that’d end up splashed on every local Facebook group.

After wandering for days, so hungry my knees buckled, I finally showed up at the Prescott gate, hoping for a little kindness. Maybe just a few days of real food before disappearing again.

That’s all I dared hope for.