The Songbird's Revenge: How I Became His Aunt

son time. My foster mother, a kind woman with little mon

would even speak to me. I was living on scraps, trying to

was walking home through a dark, empty alle

y were drunk, aggressive. They

them sneered, grabbing my arm. "A

d. I fought, but they were too strong. They pushed me against the c

he sound of a car s

door s

her

ority that cut through the night air. I

s headlights. He was older, dressed in a perfectly tailored

is none of your business,"

voice. He simply took a st

let her

ted a quiet power that was more intimidating than any loud threat. They exchang

thy pavement, sh

d knelt beside me. He

u alrigh

There was a faint, familiar resemblance to Caleb in the line of his jaw, b

," I whispered,

d wrapped it around my shoulders. It was

ting. I saw your picture in the news clippings my assista

eb' s father years ago and left Nashville to build his own tech empire in Silicon Valley. He was the re

r and recognit

m nothing like my brother' s family. I read about

n my eyes, the utter despair

feet. "Let' s get you out of here. You