a grieving millionaire found a seven-year-old girl nearly buried beneath the snow on a park bench on christmas eve, clutching a worn stuffed rabbit and shivering alone in the freezing night—then she opened her eyes and whispered, “i’m waiting for my mama.” haunted by the daughter he had lost three years earlier, he wrapped the child in his coat and refused to leave her behind. but he had no idea her mother was lying unconscious in a hospital—or that the little girl had witnessed something someone was desperate to keep secret. then the millionaire realized finding her hadn’t been an accident of fate; he had become the only person standing between her and the danger searching for her.

Gideon gripped the edge of his mahogany desk tightly.

"Stop him, Marcus, whatever it takes," Gideon ordered with cold authority.

On the other end of the line, Gideon heard the sickening sound of a heavy scuffle breaking out.

Glass shattered loudly, followed by a harsh, muffled grunt of pain.

The line went completely dead.

Gideon paced the floor of his study, his heart hammering fiercely against his ribs.

Every single instinct told him to rush down to the hospital, but he couldn't leave Norah unprotected in the penthouse.

Five agonizing minutes passed before the encrypted phone finally buzzed again.

"Status report," Gideon demanded the second he answered the call.

"The intruder is neutralized, but he managed to jump out the second-story window onto the fire escape," Marcus panted heavily.

"Is the mother safe?"

"She's safe, but the syringe he dropped was filled with a lethal dose of potassium chloride," Marcus explained.

Gideon closed his eyes, feeling the sheer weight of the conspiracy crashing down upon him.

"Move her to our private underground medical facility immediately," Gideon instructed.

"I'll secure a private ambulance and have our personal medical team on standby," Marcus confirmed before hanging up.

Gideon turned his attention back to the glowing computer monitor.

He launched a highly sophisticated decryption program he had funded for corporate espionage protection.

Lines of complex green code cascaded rapidly down the dark screen.

He walked out to the living room to check on the little girl.

Norah was sitting on the plush velvet sofa, wearing one of his late daughter's clean oversized sweaters.

She was eating warm chicken noodle soup, looking incredibly small against the massive furniture.

"Is my mama coming here?" she asked hopefully.

"My friends are keeping her safe right now, and she is resting," Gideon lied softly, hating himself for the deception.

He sat beside her, gently smoothing the damp hair away from her pale forehead.

A sudden, sharp beep echoed loudly from the locked study down the hall.

The decryption software had successfully bypassed the drive's security protocols.

Gideon told Norah to finish her soup and rushed back into the private office.

He clicked on the very first video file listed in the newly opened directory.

The grainy surveillance footage showed a massive, dimly lit shipping warehouse located near the Chicago docks.

Several armed men were brutally executing a group of tied-up dockworkers.

The camera panned slightly, revealing the side of the massive shipping crates the dead men had been guarding.

Gideon felt all the air completely leave his lungs.

The crates were stamped with the official, trademarked logo of the Witmore Foundation.

Before Gideon could even process the horrifying implication, the heavy penthouse doorbell rang loudly.

When my newborn 'passed away,' my mother-in-law leaned in and said

My Husband Left Me Alone in My Car While I Was in Labor

“You’re Dead When We Get Home,” He Snapped

He glanced at the security monitor on his desk and saw Victor Vance standing in his private hallway.

Victor was smiling directly into the camera, holding Norah's torn stuffed rabbit in his gloved hand.

Chapter 3 - The Hospital Room