Elena’s heart slammed against her ribs with the force of a battering ram. Her eyes flicked frantically between the baby’s tiny ankle, the chilling message on the screen, and Lucas’s motionless body lying in the pool of his own blood. His chest rose and fell in shallow, agonizing hitches.

She couldn’t afford to collapse. Not now.

Dragging herself across the slick floor, Elena grabbed the edge of the velvet bassinet and shoved it aside. Beneath the thin foam mattress lay a dark leather notebook, its edges worn and fraying, alongside a brass key bearing a deeply etched crest—the mark of the Rostova family line.

Her hands trembled violently as she snatched both items and shoved them into her coat pocket.

Suddenly, a deafening crack echoed through the hallway. The penthouse’s heavy oak front door splintered inward with a terrifying thud, followed by the harsh, commanding shouts of heavily armed men.

«Police! On the floor! Hands where we can see them!»

Flashlights pierced the dim foyer, their piercing beams sweeping across the room and landing directly on Elena. She stood frozen, drenched in blood, holding an infant that wasn’t hers, standing over her husband’s bleeding body.

«Don’t move!» an officer screamed, aiming an assault rifle at her chest. «Step away from the victim!»

Elena lowered herself slowly to her knees, keeping one arm wrapped tightly around the baby. «He’s dying! He needs help! Someone injected him!»

Two officers tackled her to the ground, pinning her shoulder to the cold tile while another snatched the crying baby from her arms.

«My baby!» Elena shrieked, her voice cracking with raw desperation. «Give him back to me!»

«Get the paramedics in here now!» the lead detective yelled over his shoulder, kneeling next to Lucas to check his pulse. The detective turned his gaze to Elena, his eyes cold and unblinking. «Elena Vance, you are under arrest for the attempted murder of Lucas Vance and the kidnapping of a minor.»

«Kidnapping?!» Elena gasped, struggling against the heavy handcuffs biting into her wrists. «No! Helena attacked him! There were two men here—they took the drive!»

«Save it for the interrogation room,» the detective snapped, pulling her up by her arm. «Helena Vance is already in custody down below. She claims you lured her here to execute her son and steal the Vance family trust.»

Elena’s blood ran cold. Helena had set the trap before she was even detained.

As the officers hauled Elena toward the private elevator, her eyes remained fixed on Lucas. Paramedics were swarming his body, cutting open his shirt and clamping an oxygen mask over his face. Just as the elevator doors began to slide shut, Lucas’s hand twitched. His eyes fluttered open, glassy and unfocused.

For a brief, agonizing second, his gaze locked onto hers across the room. He didn’t look at her with love. He looked at her with pure, unadulterated terror.

«Lucas!» she screamed as the doors sealed shut, plunging her into the metallic box with two armed officers.

The ride down was a blur of flashing lights and silent panic. They paraded her through the underground parking garage, where dozens of police cruisers sat with their sirens wailing. News vans were already lined up outside the perimeter, camera lenses pressing against the glass.

As they shoved her into the back of a black SUV, Elena’s hip pressed hard against the brass key in her pocket. The officers hadn’t searched her coat thoroughly in their hurry to secure the scene.

The SUV lurched forward, speeding out of the residential complex and tearing through the rain-slicked city streets.

Elena leaned her head back against the leather seat, closing her eyes as tears finally spilled over her lashes. In the quiet darkness of the moving vehicle, she slid her hand into her pocket, her thumb tracing the intricate crest on the key.

Then, her phone vibrated against her thigh.

The police had confiscated Lucas’s unlisted phone, but they hadn’t realized she had her own second device hidden in her inner jacket lining. Slipping her fingers under her coat, she unlocked the screen without the officers noticing.

A new notification glowed in the dark. It was an anonymous audio file from an unlisted number, sent just ten seconds ago.

With her heart in her throat, Elena pressed her ear subtly against her collar and played the recording.

A woman’s voice, raspy and breathless, whispered through the speaker:

«Elena, if you’re hearing this, it means they’ve taken you. Don’t trust the police. The detective driving your car isn’t a cop. Look at his left wrist.»

Elena’s breath hitched. Slowly, methodically, she raised her head and looked through the mesh divider at the driver’s hands on the steering wheel.

Rolled up slightly beneath his crisp uniform sleeve was a tattoo—a dark, stylized viper wrapped around a broken hourglass.

It was the signature mark of her father’s private security syndicate.

Before she could react, the driver caught her eye in the rear-view mirror. He offered a slow, terrifying smile, slammed his foot on the accelerator, and violently jerked the steering wheel to the right, plunging the SUV off the main road and down into an unlit, subterranean cargo tunnel.