Chapter 3

03

Three days after escaping, I found an old burner phone at a flea market.

I charged it and found only one contact― "Charlie."

He was my father's old driver, and the only person left who might help me.

When the call connected, Charlie's voice was thick with tears. "Miss Lyra? You're alive?"

"Charlie, I need you to check something," I whispered, shivering behind a dumpster.

"Check if Silas Sterling has recently placed an infant in a private clinic."

Half an hour later, he called back, his voice shaking even harder.

"I found him. He was in the neonatal unit at Hope Hospital."

"But... Bianca White took him last month. She said she was taking him to an orphanage."

An orphanage? There was no way Bianca would be that kind.

I immediately took a cab to Hope Hospital.

I broke into the records room and found my son's birth file.

It said: "Male infant, 1.5kg, transferred to ICU." There was no death certificate.

A nurse in the ICU recognized me and gasped. "Miss Moore? You're supposed to be..."

"Where is my son?" I grabbed her arm. "Where did Bianca take him?"

Terrified, she stammered, "That day... Miss White said she was taking him to see Mr. Sterling."

"But she didn't go to the office. She went to the cold storage warehouse on the outskirts of town."

My heart sank into my stomach.

Silas had a private warehouse out there used for storing "sensitive evidence" from his deals.

I thanked her and sprinted out.

Charlie had wired me two thousand dollars. I hailed a car and begged the driver to go faster.

The warehouse district was eerie and silent.

I climbed over the fence, tearing my pants and cutting my leg on the wire, but I didn't care.

The air smelled of rust and chemicals.

In the distance, the hum of an industrial freezer compressor droned on.

I followed the sound to the back warehouse. The door was unlocked.

The moment I pushed it open, a blast of arctic air hit me, making me gasp.

Rows of upright freezers stood like small, metal graves.

One freezer in the middle was slightly ajar, a sliver of pink fabric sticking out.

My heart felt like it was going to explode.

I walked over and yanked the door open.

Inside was a small infant incubator.

Inside the incubator lay a pink onesie―one I had sewn myself.

I had embroidered a tiny "L" on the sleeve.

The incubator was empty.

But tucked under the clothes was a note in Bianca's handwriting: "Want your son? Come to the Sterling Tower rooftop."

It was a trap.

I knew it instantly, but looking at that tiny onesie, I had no choice.

I pushed open the door to the CEO's office on the top floor.

Silas was sitting behind his desk, a bandage on his forehead.

He looked at me with eyes as cold as a blizzard. "You're harder to kill than I thought."

"Where is my son?" I gripped the paring knife in my pocket.

"What's the rush?" He tossed a document across the desk.

"Sign this. Moore Holdings becomes mine, and I tell you where the kid is."

It was the share transfer. My name was already printed, waiting for a thumbprint.

I picked up the pen and suddenly smiled.

"Silas, aren't you curious how I got out of that asylum?"

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I recorded Dr. Miller's phone calls."

I pressed play on the burner phone. Dr. Miller's slimy voice filled the room.

"Don't worry, Mr. Sterling. Lyra Moore is a vegetable now. The shares are as good as yours..."

"By the way, I added the extra meds Miss White requested. She'll never wake up again."

Silas's face went pale.

"And there's this." I played another recording―a call between Bianca and her friend.

"I didn't send that brat to an orphanage. He's at the old factory."

"Once the shares are transferred, I'll dump him in the river to feed the fish."

"He's the only thing standing between me and Silas."

Silas slammed his hands on the desk, knocking everything over. "That bitch!"

So he didn't know she planned to kill the child.

I mocked him internally, but kept a look of panic on my face.

"Silas, if we go to the factory now, we might still save him!"

He fell for it. He grabbed his keys and sprinted out.

I followed him, watching his frantic back with a cold smirk.

Silas Sterling, you think this is over?

You owe me. You owe my son. And I'm going to make you pay a thousand times over.

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