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.

Michael looked absolutely terrible, his face bruised and his clothes torn to shreds. His hands were bound in front of him, but his fingers were wrapped tightly around the explosive device. Richard took a cautious step backward, his arrogant smile faltering for the first time. He demanded to know how Michael had bypassed the security sweep. Michael coughed, spitting a mixture of blood and saliva onto the pristine white floor. He explained that a dead man walking had nothing left to lose. Michael looked directly into my eyes, a silent conversation passing between us in a fraction of a second. He told me that he had been a terrible father, a terrible husband, and a coward. But he swore he would not let them cut open his little girl for profit. Richard ordered his guards to shoot Michael, but they hesitated, terrified of the grenade. Michael didn't wait for them to make a decision. He let go of the metal spoon on the grenade and lunged forward, tackling the two heavily armed guards. I immediately threw my weight backward, slamming my head into the face of the man holding me. The guard stumbled, dropping his grip on my shoulder. I sprinted toward the surgical table, putting my body between Lily and the impending blast. The grenade detonated with a terrifying roar, shaking the entire foundation of the underground bunker. Shrapnel and shattered glass flew across the room, embedding into the walls and medical equipment. The concussion knocked me to my knees, but I kept my arms wrapped tightly around my unconscious daughter. The sprinkler system activated instantly, raining cold water down on the chaotic scene. I looked through the smoke and saw Michael lying motionless on the floor, surrounded by the neutralized guards. He had absorbed the brunt of the explosion, sacrificing himself completely. I scrambled to my feet, desperately looking around for a weapon to cut my zip-ties. Suddenly, the cold steel barrel of a handgun pressed firmly against the back of my head. Richard whispered in my ear that it was a valiant effort, but ultimately pointless. He cocked the hammer of the gun, promising to make my death quick so he could harvest the girl. Before he could pull the trigger, the reinforced glass doors of the operating room shattered inward.