Three weeks after my baby shower, I gave birth to a beautiful little girl. That same night, my mother-in-law told my husband, “A woman who cannot give this family a son is not the right woman for you.” He listened. He pulled away. And before our daughter ever learned to walk, he was gone.

I demanded to know what he was laughing at.

Daniel wiped a tear from his eye.

He pointed to the digital clock on the hotel microwave.

It read eleven forty-five.

Daniel told us that Evelyn didn't just send Vance the cleaner to chase us.

He said Evelyn knew they couldn't risk leaving any loose ends.

She ordered Vance to plant a customized explosive device in the basement of this hotel.

Julian stopped typing and stared at his brother.

He asked Daniel if he was bluffing.

Daniel shook his head.

He said the bomb was wired to the building's main gas line.

He said it was set to detonate at exactly midnight.

We only had fifteen minutes left.

I grabbed Lily from behind the armchair and held her tight.

I told Julian to hit the send button immediately so we could evacuate.

Julian frantically clicked the mouse.

An error message flashed across the screen in bright red text.

The hotel's internet connection had been completely severed from the outside.

Evelyn had jammed the signal.

Julian slammed his fist on the desk.

He said we needed to get to the roof to find a cellular signal.

I kept the gun trained on Daniel.

I ordered him to stand up and walk in front of us.

Daniel refused to move.

He said there was no point in running because the blast would take down the entire block.

He closed his eyes and said he deserved to die for what he did to Lily.

I told him I didn't care about his guilt.

I grabbed him by the collar and hauled him to his feet.

I forced him out the door and into the hallway.

We sprinted toward the stairwell.

The elevator power had already been cut.

We climbed four flights of stairs in agonizing panic.

My lungs burned, and Lily was crying against my shoulder.

We finally pushed open the heavy metal door to the roof.

The cold rain instantly soaked us.

Julian pulled out his cell phone, desperately holding it up to catch a bar of service.

He shouted that he had a signal.

“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,”

He hit the final button to transmit the data.

Then, a spotlight violently clicked on from a nearby rooftop, blinding us all.

Chapter 9 - The Final Warning