The mistress arrived at the gala on my husband's arm, wearing my dress and my late grandmother's bracelet. Everyone called her "Mrs. Albright," while I woke up drugged at home. My son took the microphone in front of 300 guests and said, "Now you can support my father yourself." But they still had no idea about the 68-million-dollars file waiting to be opened.

I fell to my knees on the shattered glass of the highway, screaming my son's name into the dark night. The police cruisers arrived moments later, surrounding me with flashing red and blue emergency lights. Special Agent Carter stepped out of the lead vehicle and ran toward me with a grim, serious expression. I grabbed his jacket lapels and hysterically demanded that he find my kidnapped boy immediately. He tried to calm me down, but my maternal instincts were drowning in pure, unadulterated agony. My cell phone suddenly vibrated in my pocket with an incoming encrypted video call from an unknown server. I answered it with violently trembling hands, and Christopher's smug face appeared on the cracked digital screen. He was sitting in a luxurious leather chair, proving he was completely free from any government custody. He turned the camera to show Luke tied to a heavy steel chair, looking badly bruised but incredibly defiant. Christopher laughed loudly and told me the government had officially pardoned him for his noble cooperation. He demanded that I sign over the entire Grand Horizon Group to his new infant heir by sunrise tomorrow. If I refused to surrender my father's massive legacy, he promised I would never see my brilliant son again. Agent Carter watched the video feed over my shoulder and signaled his technical team to trace the call. Christopher noticed the agent on the screen and warned us that any rescue attempt would end in absolute tragedy. He abruptly ended the digital connection, leaving me staring at a black screen in total, suffocating despair. The FBI agent placed a comforting hand on my shoulder and told me they had successfully locked the location. The digital signal came from an abandoned shipping yard owned by our very own corporate logistics division. Agent Carter ordered his federal tactical assault teams to prepare for immediate and heavily armed deployment. But as we climbed into his private vehicle, Agent Carter pulled his gun and pointed it directly at my head.