before landing smoothly at Aspen-Pitkin County Airport. This was not a vacation. It was the next item on

her two children. The cold was a clean, sharp shock after the recyc

e of the Aspen Elite Children's Ski Championship. The

Mason is going to win," she said with absolute certainty, as if the outcome had already been decided by forces beyond mortal comprehension. She

areful hand over Mason's red-and-black professional ski

eflective goggles. They hid the top half of his fac

m. Sophie can use it for her dolls." He tapped his chest twice-

roup. Mason gave his mother a quick nod, clicked his boots into his

e, Julian Sinclair IV stood watching the activity below. He held a cup

utive assistant, Leo Reynolds, hur

he trainers say he has a ninety percent chance

ng at it, his eyes fixed on the star

quietly apart from the other racers. Logan. He wore the same sty

He had always suspected Logan was the product of some scheme, some leverage Kaila had concocted. He provided the boy with the best of everything-the best schools, the best trainers, the best gear-but a chasm of emotional distance remai

would be this age now. Would that child have been tall like him? Quiet like Chlo

race official below shattered

pted from the starting pi

ized missiles, their small bodies expertly navigating the slalom gates. They leaned into the turns at the same angle. They shifted their weight at

e. Down at the railing, Chloe gripped the cold metal, her knuckles white, her breath held tight in her chest. Her eyes neve

took a risky inside line, his s

im perfectly, his control of his cente

than usual, with a flair he'd never seen before. For the first time, Julian found himself actually watching L

he mountainside, pulling further and further ahead of th

sight. The energy of the

tors, trying to get as close to the finish as pos

ost perfectly side-by-side, hurtling toward the end. Below, a mother held her breath. Above, a father-reluctant, distan