Chapter 1

My daughter was kidnapped.

The ransom was five million. I could barely scrape the money together, but the kidnappers made it clear…

A life for a life.

Even if they took the money, they would still kill whoever delivered the ransom.

With my eyes bloodshot, I spent the entire night smoking to the point that the room was filled with thick smoke.

When the cigarette burned to my fingertips, the pain snapped me out of my haze. I jerked my hand and crushed the butt into an ashtray already overflowing with stubs.

My wife, Hope Chaplin, couldn't take it anymore. Her nails dug deep into my arm. Her eyes, swollen and bloodshot from crying for two straight days, glared at me.

"Hunter Zehm, it's your daughter we're talking about!" she screamed, her voice trembling with desperation. "If something happens to her, I won't be able to go on living!"

I gritted my teeth, trembling as I lit another cigarette. I looked up, the smoke curling around me, and saw my elderly mother sitting by the coffee table, carefully peeling an apple.

She was only in her 60s, but years of hardship left her skin sagging and wrinkled, her face and hands resembling dry, cracked bark.

From time to time, she would glance at the small stool by her feet and grin. Her cloudy eyes were murky like stagnant water.

In her hoarse, barely audible voice, she murmured, "Hunter, I'm peeling an apple for you. Apples are good—nutritious. Eat them, and you'll get smarter…"

My nose stung, and an invisible needle seemed to stab into my heart. I hastily averted my gaze, and my vision blurred. Finally, I forced out three words from the depths of my throat.

"Call the police."

Hope lost it on the spot. Her voice, sharp as a blade, pierced my eardrums. "Hunter, are you insane? The kidnappers said if we call the police—"

She stopped abruptly, choking on the rest of her sentence. After taking a couple of shaky breaths, she pointed furiously at my mother, who was seated by the coffee table.

"They want one of us dead, right? Send your mother! She's a crazy old fool, and she's over 60. She's lived long enough! Even if she lives a few more years, she'll just waste our money on food. It's better to trade her life for Melody's!"

"Hope!" I slammed my hand on the coffee table, the impact numbing my arm. My eyes burned with fury. "She's my mother!"

Hope yelled back just as loudly, "And Melody is my daughter! She's only six! Right now, she's in the hands of kidnappers—who knows if she's hurt or suffering?"

Tears streamed down her face again, her once beautiful features contorted into something ugly. "I'm telling you, Hunter, if something happens to Melody, I can't go on living. Neither you nor your mother will, either!"

My heart felt like it was being shredded to pieces.

Melody was my daughter, too. She was my precious little girl whom I cherished for the last six years.

But how could I sacrifice the woman who brought me into the world and raised me?

My teeth clenched so hard, they ached as I trembled, fumbling to unlock my phone with sweat-slicked fingers. I failed repeatedly.

Seeing this, Hope lunged at me, clawing, kicking, and even biting like a wild animal cornered with no way out.

"What are you doing, Hunter? What are you doing? You can't call the police! You can't!"

Her sharp nails almost gouged into my eye socket. I shoved her off me. In a burst of uncontrollable rage, I slapped her hard across the face.

Hope fell to the floor, her hair disheveled, one cheek swollen red. She tried to get up several times but failed. Her gaze became vacant, and her pale, cracked lips trembled as she muttered, "It's all your fault, Hunter. If you'd watched over Melody properly, she wouldn't have gone missing...

"Melody, my poor Melody..."

Shame gnawed at me, leaving me feeling utterly worthless.

Two days ago, I took Melody to a nearby amusement park. She vanished in the brief moment I looked down to reply to a message.