"At my daughter’s birthday, my sister smashed the cake into her face as a joke. My little girl fell backward, clutching her cheek and crying in pain. The next morning, my mother begged me not to report her. Then the ER doctor studied the X-ray, locked the door, and called 911.

"Keep running, baby, do not look back," I whispered frantically to Lily.

We crashed through the dense underbrush, tearing our clothes on sharp thorns and branches.

The freezing rain was coming down in sheets, turning the forest floor into a slick, muddy nightmare.

I could hear the terrifying sounds of hunting dogs closing the distance behind us.

David had clearly brought his expensive tracking hounds to hunt us down like animals.

My lungs burned with every breath, and my legs felt like lead.

Lily was shivering violently against my chest, her tiny body shutting down from the cold.

We reached the edge of a deep, fast-flowing river that cut through the mountain valley.

The water looked black and deadly in the storm, but it was our only chance to lose the dogs.

"Take a deep breath, sweetheart," I told her, kissing her cold forehead.

I stepped off the muddy bank and plunged into the freezing current.

The icy water stole the breath right out of my lungs.

I held Lily above the surface with all my remaining strength, fighting the violent pull of the river.

We drifted downstream for several agonizing minutes before I managed to grab a low-hanging tree branch.

I dragged us out of the water onto the opposite bank, collapsing completely into the mud.

Across the river, I saw the flashlight beams sweeping the shoreline.

The hunting dogs stopped at the edge of the water and began barking furiously in confusion.

We had successfully broken our scent trail.

I forced myself to stand up, carrying my exhausted daughter toward the distant glow of highway lights.

We finally broke through the tree line and stumbled onto the shoulder of an empty interstate.

A massive eighteen-wheeler truck suddenly rounded the curve, its bright headlights illuminating us in the rain.

I waved my arms frantically in the middle of the road.

The truck's air brakes hissed loudly as the massive vehicle shuddered to a halt right in front of us.

“Which daughter is yours?” should have been a harmless question

The first wineglass shattered at 8:07 p.m

The moment the mafia boss’s wife called me “an illiterate servant,”

The driver opened the passenger door, and I felt a massive surge of hope.

We climbed into the warm cabin, but my heart stopped when I saw a framed photo of my mother taped to the dashboard.

Chapter 7 - The Hunted