The terminal at O’Hare was freezing despite the hum of the industrial heaters.

Outside the thick glass of Gate Seventeen, heavy Chicago snow sleeted against the tarmac.

My brother, Ryker, stood next to me, his eyes fixed on his tablet screen.

“The logistics report for the merger is late, Evelyn,” he said, his voice flat.

“The storm is delaying everything tonight,” I replied, pulling my wool coat tighter around my shoulders.

Then I saw them.

Two small children sat on a blue vinyl bench directly under the flickering departure screen.

The boy was clinging to a worn brown teddy bear with a missing ear.

The girl sat perfectly still beside him, her green eyes wide and far too quiet for a five-year-old.

A woman in a tailored tan cashmere coat stood over them, her back to us.

She was slowly adjusting her leather gloves, her face completely expressionless as she looked down at the pair.

“Stay right here on this bench,” the woman said, her cold voice carrying over the terminal’s low din.

“Is Mommy coming back soon?” the little boy asked, his voice trembling.

“I am not your mother, Owen,” she said.

She turned on her heel, ignoring the boy’s outstretched hand.

She walked quickly toward the jet bridge for Flight 814 to Miami.

She did not look back once.

Ryker stopped scrolling on his screen.

His jaw tightened as he watched the woman hand her boarding pass to the gate attendant.

“Evelyn, look at those kids,” Ryker murmured.

The little girl was holding her brother’s hand now, pulling him closer to her side.

“She just left them,” I said, my stomach dropping as the boarding door began to swing shut.

“Marco,” Ryker called out, his voice sharp.

Our head of security stepped forward immediately from the shadow of a concrete pillar.

“Yes, Mr. Steel?” Marco asked.

“That woman in the tan coat who just boarded,” Ryker said, pointing toward the jet bridge.

“Stop her plane.”

Marco blinked, but his professional mask did not slip.

“Sir, the flight is already boarding the final group,” Marco said. “It is scheduled to push back in minutes.”

“I do not care,” Ryker said.