Chapter 2 - The Jade at the River’s Edge
The mud clung to Mia’s yellow boots like wet concrete, trying to pull her down with every step she took toward the roaring water. The wind whipped her hood back, exposing her dark hair to the freezing rain. Her knees were soaked and scraped, her small hands caked in brown clay, but she didn’t care. She couldn't. That sound—that fragile, shivering cry—was pulling her forward like an invisible thread hooked directly to her chest.
"I'm coming!" Mia called out, though her voice was swallowed by the storm's fury. "Don't be scared!"
She scrambled over a tangled weave of exposed oak roots, her eyes darting across the swollen, turbulent river. Upstream, a large weeping willow had collapsed into the water years ago, its thick trunk forming a natural barrier where floating debris always collected. Logs, plastic bottles, snapped branches, and clumps of wild grass churned against the submerged wood.
And there, wedged securely between two thick branches right at the river’s edge, was a blue waterproof duffel bag.
It was floating, but barely. The top zipper was pulled back just a few inches, leaving a narrow gap for air. The blue fabric was slick with rain, and every time a heavy wave sloshed against the bank, the bag bobbed dangerously, threatened by the rising current.
Mia gasped, her eyes wide with terror and determination. She slid down the muddy bank, catching herself on a low-hanging willow branch. "I see you!" she cried out.
She reached into the gap of the duffel bag with her small fingers. Her hand touched something soft—a thick, soaked wool blanket—and beneath it, the warm, trembling body of a tiny infant. The baby was barely breathing now, his whimpers reduced to soft, wet hitches in his chest. His skin was pale, his lips tinted a terrifying shade of blue.
"It's okay, it's okay," Mia whispered, using the same soothing tone her father used when she had a nightmare. "I've got you."
With all the strength in her six-year-old arms, Mia pulled at the heavy bag. The mud beneath her feet slipped, and for one terrifying second, her left boot plunged into the freezing river current. The icy water stung her skin, but she tightened her grip on the duffel bag and pulled backward with a frantic grunt.
Squelch.
The bag came free from the tangled branches, slipping onto the muddy bank. Mia tumbled backward into the wet grass, pulling the heavy bundle onto her lap. She sat there in the driving rain, panting, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
Carefully, her trembling fingers pulled the zipper all the way open.
Inside lay a baby boy, no more than three or four months old. He was wrapped tightly in an expensive, hand-knit white cashmere blanket that was now soaked with rainwater around the edges. His little hands were curled into tiny fists near his face, his skin mottled red and white from the extreme cold. He had opened his eyes slightly—dark, glossy eyes that blinked up at Mia through the storm.
"You're okay now," Mia sobbed, tears finally mixing with the rain on her face. "I'm Mia. You're safe."
As she reached down to gather the freezing infant into her arms, tucked beneath her unbuttoned raincoat to share her body warmth, something caught the dim light of the grey sky.
Resting on the baby’s tiny chest, outside the folds of the blanket, was a pendant.
It was an oval piece of deep, imperial green jade, translucent around the edges and smooth as glass. Carved into the surface of the jade was a delicate, intricate motif: a double-headed phoenix wrapped around a central blossom. The stone seemed almost impossibly vibrant against the pale blanket, catching the overcast light and pulsing with a cool, emerald glow.
Mia touched the stone lightly. It felt strangely warm to her freezing fingers—warmer than the air, warmer than the rain.
She didn't know what the carving meant. She didn't know that jade like this didn't come from ordinary jewelers, nor did she know that the double-headed phoenix was an ancient crest belonging to a family that had vanished into thin air eight years ago. All Mia knew was that the baby needed to get inside before the cold took him forever.
She hoisted the baby tightly against her chest, wrapping her raincoat around his shivering frame. The duffel bag was left behind in the mud as she began the long, agonizing trek back up the slippery hill toward the mansion.
Every step was a battle against gravity and mud. Her legs burned. The rain stung her eyes. The infant felt heavy in her arms, his small heartbeat pressing against hers through their wet clothes.
"Daddy will fix it," Mia muttered to herself, repeating it like a mantra as she pushed through the bushes and broke out onto the open lawn. "Daddy fixes everything."
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Ahead of her, the massive stone silhouette of the Hartford mansion loomed through the grey sheet of rain. Bright lights shone from the high windows, warm and welcoming. Mia ran across the slick grass as fast as her small legs could carry her, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear, exhaustion, and an overwhelming need to protect the tiny life cradled against her chest.
She reached the side entrance, kicked open the door with her muddy boot, and burst into the warm, scented air of the study hallway, panting, bleeding, and holding a miracle in her arms.
