CHAPTER 3: THE NIGHT ETHAN'S FATHER DIED
The words on the paper wouldn't leave my mind.
THE DRIVE ISN'T THE SECRET.
EMILY IS.
I stood alone inside Room 718, staring at the empty bed where my daughter had been less than ten minutes earlier.
Someone had taken her.
Inside a supposedly secure hospital.
Under my watch.
I should have felt panic.
Instead, something colder settled over me.
Focus.
I had learned that lesson years ago.
Panic made people loud.
Fear made them careless.
But focus kept people alive.
I picked up Emily's shattered phone.
The screen was cracked across the middle.
Three missed calls.
One unknown number.
And one notification from an application I didn't recognize.
SECURE MESSAGE: 11:51 P.M.
I tried opening it.
Password required.
Of course.
I slipped the phone into my pocket.
Then I looked at the window.
Seventh floor.
No fire escape.
No balcony.
Nobody could have climbed through it without equipment.
Which meant the person who took Emily had another way out.
I called the security supervisor.
“Lock down the hospital.”
He stared at me.
“Colonel, we need authorization.”
“You have it.”
“From whom?”
“Me.”
“You don't have hospital authority.”
I stepped closer.
“You have a kidnapped patient in your building and an armed threat moving through your security system. If you want paperwork, I'll give you paperwork after we find her.”
He grabbed the radio.
“All exits locked. Elevators restricted. Nobody leaves.”
I turned.
Richard Cole was standing at the end of the hallway.
Watching me.
I walked toward him.
“You knew.”
His expression remained calm.
“Knew what?”
“That this would happen.”
“I didn't.”
“Then tell me why your face isn't surprised.”
He smiled faintly.
“Because, Colonel, I've spent thirty years dealing with powerful families.”
“And?”
“And powerful families rarely survive without enemies.”
I grabbed his jacket.
He didn't resist.
“Where is my daughter?”
“I don't know.”
“Wrong answer.”
“It happens to be the truth.”
I pushed him against the wall.
“You came to this hospital tonight.”
“Yes.”
“You knew about the missing footage.”
“Yes.”
“You knew someone was searching for the flash drive.”
“Yes.”
“And you still expect me to believe you don't know where Emily is?”
Richard looked directly into my eyes.
“I know where I think she is.”
I released him.
“Where?”
He straightened his jacket.
“Ask yourself why the Prescott family was so desperate to keep Emily away from the police.”
“I already know.”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“You don't.”
He walked toward the elevator.
I followed.
“Talk.”
He pressed the button.
“The night Ethan's father died.”
I froze.
“You said he was alive.”
Richard turned.
“I said that because I wanted to see if you knew the truth.”
The elevator doors opened.
He stepped inside.
I blocked the doors with my arm.
“Start talking.”
Richard sighed.
“Three years ago, Charles Prescott was reported dead.”
“I remember.”
“Officially, he died of a heart attack.”
“And unofficially?”
Richard looked at me.
“He didn't.”
My jaw tightened.
“Then where is he?”
Richard leaned closer.
“He's been alive this entire time.”
The elevator doors closed between us.
I stood there.
My mind raced.
Charles Prescott.
The patriarch.
The man who had built the Prescott empire.
The man whose death had turned Ethan from a reckless heir into the head of the family.
Except he wasn't dead.
Which meant everything the Prescott family had built over the past three years rested on a lie.
I returned to the security office.
“Pull up everything on Charles Prescott.”
The supervisor typed.
A photograph appeared.
Gray hair.
Sharp eyes.
Expensive suit.
Then another document.
DATE OF DEATH: JUNE 14, 2023.
I stared at it.
“Find the death certificate.”
He did.
There it was.
Signed by a physician.
Cause of death: acute cardiac failure.
I zoomed in.
The physician's name.
Dr. Alan Mercer.
Something about the name bothered me.
“Find him.”
The supervisor searched.
“Doctor Alan Mercer died two years ago.”
I frowned.
“How?”
“Car accident.”
I looked at the screen.
Two people connected to Charles Prescott's death were supposedly dead.
That wasn't coincidence.
That was cleanup.
“Who handled Charles Prescott's estate?”
The supervisor searched again.
“Prescott Holdings.”
“Who signed?”
He clicked.
“Margaret Prescott.”
Of course.
I felt my phone vibrate.
A message.
Unknown number.
STOP DIGGING.
Another message appeared.
YOUR DAUGHTER IS ALIVE.
Then:
FOR NOW.
I stared at the screen.
I typed:
WHERE IS SHE?
Three dots appeared.
Then disappeared.
A minute passed.
Another message arrived.
COME ALONE.
Coordinates followed.
I recognized the location.
An abandoned warehouse district on the edge of Charlotte.
I immediately grabbed my jacket.
The security supervisor stood.
“Colonel, you shouldn't go.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you going?”
“Because they have my daughter.”
He lowered his voice.
“Call the police.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because whoever took her already knows how to manipulate police channels.”
He looked confused.
I showed him the missing footage.
“Three minutes disappeared from the hospital system.”
He understood.
“You think someone inside is helping them.”
“I know someone is.”
I left.
But before reaching the elevator, I stopped.
“Give me every camera recording from tonight.”
He nodded.
“And one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“If anyone asks about Emily…”
I looked him directly in the eye.
“Tell them she was never here.”
His eyes widened.
“Why?”
“Because if the people who took her believe she's still inside this hospital, they'll come back.”
I walked away.
Outside, the night air was cold.
I got into my vehicle.
Then I noticed something on the windshield.
A photograph.
Emily.
Taken that evening.
She was standing outside the hospital before I arrived.
Beside her was Ethan.
But that wasn't what frightened me.
There was another person in the photograph.
A man standing behind them.
Partially hidden.
I zoomed in.
My blood ran cold.
I knew that face.
I had seen him before.
Not in Charlotte.
Not at the Prescott estate.
At Fort Liberty.
He had been one of the contractors assigned to a military logistics project two years earlier.
A man named Daniel Cross.
I immediately called Marcus.
He answered on the second ring.
“Victoria?”
“Do you remember Daniel Cross?”
Silence.
Then:
“Why are you asking?”
“Because he's involved with the Prescott family.”
Marcus's voice became serious.
“Are you sure?”
“I have a photograph.”
“Send it.”
I did.
He was silent for several seconds.
Then he said something that made my blood run colder than anything else that night.
“Victoria…”
“What?”
“Daniel Cross died eighteen months ago.”
I stared at the photograph.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“That's impossible.”
“His body was identified.”
I looked at the picture again.
The man in the photograph was smiling.
Standing directly behind my daughter.
Alive.
Marcus continued.
“Victoria, listen to me carefully.”
“I’m listening.”
“Daniel Cross wasn't just a contractor.”
“What was he?”
Marcus paused.
“He was under investigation for selling classified military information.”
My grip tightened around the phone.
“To whom?”
“We never proved it.”
“Marcus.”
“I said we never proved it.”
I waited.
Then he added:
“But one name kept appearing.”
“Which name?”
“Prescott.”
The line went silent.
I looked at Emily's photograph again.
Suddenly everything changed.
The bruises.
The kidnapping.
The flash drive.
The fake death.
The hospital intrusion.
This wasn't a family dispute.
It was something much bigger.
I started the engine.
The warehouse coordinates were still glowing on my phone.
I drove.
Twenty minutes later, I reached the abandoned industrial district.
No streetlights.
No traffic.
Just empty warehouses and rusting fences.
I parked one block away.
Then continued on foot.
The warehouse door was open.
I stepped inside.
Darkness.
“Emily?”
My voice echoed.
Nothing.
I moved deeper inside.
Then I heard a sound.
A chain.
Metal scraping concrete.
I stopped.
“Emily?”
A woman's voice answered.
“Mom?”
My heart nearly broke.
“Emily!”
I ran toward the sound.
She was sitting in a chair.
Hands tied.
Mouth uncovered.
Alive.
I dropped beside her.
“Are you hurt?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
I cut the restraints.
“Who brought you here?”
Emily looked behind me.
“Mom…”
“What?”
Her eyes filled with terror.
“They're coming.”
I stood.
“Who?”
She grabbed my arm.
“The people who took me.”
“Where are they?”
Her voice became barely audible.
“They weren't trying to kidnap me.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“They wanted me to bring you here.”
A sound came from the darkness behind us.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Deliberate.
I turned.
A man stepped into the light.
Daniel Cross.
Alive.
He looked at me.
Then smiled.
“Hello, Colonel Hart.”
I reached for my weapon.
He raised both hands.
“Don't.”
“Where is the Prescott family?”
He smiled.
“You still don't understand.”
“Then explain it.”
Daniel looked at Emily.
Then back at me.
“Your daughter didn't steal the flash drive.”
I froze.
“What?”
“She was given it.”
“By whom?”
Daniel's smile disappeared.
“By Charles Prescott.”
My heart stopped.
“Charles is dead.”
“No.”
He took one step closer.
“Charles Prescott is very much alive.”
Then he said the one thing I never expected.
“And he has been waiting three years for you to find him.”
Emily started crying.
I turned toward her.
“Why me?”
Daniel looked at me.
“Because, Colonel…”
He reached into his jacket.
“…you were the last person Charles Prescott trusted before he disappeared.”
My mind went blank.
I had never met Charles Prescott.
At least, I thought I hadn't.
Then Daniel placed an old photograph in my hand.
I looked down.
It showed a military ceremony from four years earlier.
I was standing in uniform.
Beside me was a civilian man.
Gray hair.
Sharp eyes.
Charles Prescott.
And written on the back of the photograph were six words:
YOU PROMISED TO PROTECT MY SON.
I stared at the photograph.
Then at Emily.
And suddenly I remembered.
One night.
Four years ago.
A classified briefing.
A dying man's voice.
A promise I had buried so deeply that I had convinced myself it never happened.
But it had.
And now the Prescott family had returned to collect that promise.
Only there was one problem.
I had never promised to protect Ethan.
I had promised to protect someone else.
May you like
Someone the Prescott family had spent years trying to erase.
And that person was still alive.
