A private jet was waiting to take me to Chicago when my seven-year-old daughter grabbed my sleeve and whispered something that made me cancel the entire trip without telling a soul. “Dad, don’t go… Grandma takes me to a secret place when you’re gone, and she says I’m never allowed to tell you.” By that afternoon, I was following them myself—and what I saw made every instinct in me turn cold.

I did not have time to think, only to react with pure, primal instinct. I turned and dove headfirst back through the doorway just as the timer hit zero. The explosion was deafening, tearing through the reinforced walls like paper. A shockwave of heat and debris slammed into my back, throwing me violently against the opposite corridor wall. My vision went completely white for a few agonizing seconds as my ears rang with a high-pitched whine. I struggled to push myself up off the floor, spitting out a mouthful of concrete dust and blood. Thick gray smoke filled the hallway, making it impossible to breathe or see clearly. Through the haze, the heavy thud of tactical boots echoed toward my position. I reached for my dropped rifle, but a heavy boot slammed down on my wrist, pinning my arm to the floor. Two men in black combat gear hauled me to my feet and zip-tied my hands brutally tight behind my back. They dragged me down a long, pristine white hallway that looked entirely out of place in the ruined asylum. They pushed me through a set of double glass doors into a state-of-the-art operating theater. In the center of the room, Lily was lying unconscious on a surgical table, hooked up to a dozen glowing monitors. I screamed her name, fighting wildly against the guards, but they held me firm. A man in a perfectly tailored Italian suit stepped out from the shadows near the surgical instruments. He clapped his hands slowly, a look of genuine amusement on his face. It was Richard, my trusted business partner and the godfather to my daughter. He smiled warmly, apologizing for the dramatic explosive trap upstairs. I stared at him in absolute horror, struggling to comprehend the depth of his betrayal. Richard walked over to Lily, gently brushing a strand of hair from her sleeping face. He explained that acquiring Apex Medical was his grand design all along. He needed my vast resources to fund his research, and he needed my daughter's blood to perfect the serum. Richard casually adjusted his expensive tie and gestured to a dark corner of the room. He told me I was not the only ghost he had kept hidden in his closet. The guards dragged another beaten and bloodied man into the harsh surgical light. It was Michael, and he was holding a live grenade with the pin already pulled.