Chapter 2

Mrs Lena, already fed up with the whole drama, held up an envelope. Calla could only watch with disbelief and grief as she opened the envelope and pulled out a cheque. 

"Norman wrote you this. $500,000, half a million dollars..." Mrs Lena said, holding it up between her perfectly manicured fingers. "You don't deserve it."

Before Calla could even speak, she tore the cheque in half. Then in quarters. She then let the pieces fall to the floor, like discarded confetti after a funeral.

"You think just because you survived childbirth, we owe you something?" Mrs Lena asked and stepped closer "You killed one of our heirs. You cost this family more than money can cover."

Calla was speechless. Her hands clenched at her sides as she was suddenly filled with anger. How could they blame her for something that was beyond her control? And how could they be so heartless?

Delaney, standing beside her mother, folded her arms and added coldly, "We should've never trusted someone like you. A nameless orphan. I always knew you were going to ruin something."

"You were nothing before my son gave you a purpose. And now, you're less than nothing." She then turned to the two bodyguards, "Get rid of her. And make sure she's silent forever."

The men in black suits roughly gripped Calla by the arms, dragging her out of the hospital like she was nothing but trash. Her knees scraped the tiled floors as she cried out and pleaded with them to let go of her, but they didn't stop.

One of them yanked the hospital blanket tighter around her thin body to hide her in public, and then they shoved her into the backseat of a black car. 

As the car sped off into the night, Calla sat hunched in the corner with her arms wrapped around herself. She was too weak to make a sound and trembled, partly from the cold and mostly from the pain. All she could do was press her forehead to the window as she watched the world blur past. 

She could still feel the ghost of her child's weight in her arms, the stillness, lifelessness, and the cold skin. That was the only time she'd ever hold him.

She squeezed her eyes shut as tears poured down. Her heart felt hollow and her chest ached like something had been carved out of it with a jagged knife.

She'll never have another child...

She wasn't even allowed to say goodbye...

After what felt like an hour, the car slowed to a stop in a dark, narrow, and empty street. Before Calla could process where she was or what was happening, one of the men opened the door and yanked her out. Her bare feet hit the cold, wet floor and she stumbled, nearly falling.

"W...wait! Please!" She begged when she realized what they were about to do. "Don’t leave me here. I... I can't walk... please..."

But the men only pushed her forward. One of them shoved her hard. "If you know what's best for you, you better disappear and never come back."

Calla tried to fight, but she was too weak. Her body throbbed in protest and she could feel the warmth of her blood leaking again down her legs. The healing stitches had torn too soon.

"Please, I have nowhere to go... I have no one..." But then, they shoved her again and she fell hard.

The impact knocked the breath out of her lungs as pain tore through her side. Her face hit the cold, wet ground and dirty water splashed against her lips. She coughed, gasped for air, and cried out, but the men were already gone. They had returned to the car and sped off without looking back.

Calla lay there, curled up under the dark sky and shivering. Her wet hospital gown clung to her like a second skin and her hair was plastered to her face.

But in her mind... there was only one thing she held on to. That moment, that one, beautiful moment when she held her baby. Even if just for a minute, even if he was already gone.

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, my love..." She whispered, choking on the rain and her tears. "I would've given everything to keep you alive."

The rain soaked her thoroughly, turning her skin pale. She had lost a lot of blood and could feel herself slipping away, but then, bright and blinding headlights cut through the rain and shone directly on her.

Had the men returned to finish her off completely? Calla wondered and tried to move her body, but could barely lift her head or open her eyes.

The next thing she heard was footsteps and then, a deep voice. "Miss? Are you alright?" 

Calla didn't reply. She couldn't even cry anymore.

The stranger knelt beside her and lifted her gently. He draped his coat over her shoulders and touched her face, trying to keep her awake.

"Stay with me, I've got you." 

"Sir..." She heard another voice. "Do you need me to call the ambulance?"

"H...hospital," Calla gasped. "My baby... please, they... they have him..."

"She has a baby," The second voice said again. "What do we do, Sir?"

"We take her home"

That was the last thing Calla heard before everything blurred. She felt strong arms around her, lifting her as if she weighed nothing.

And then... darkness.

****

THE VOSS ESTATE~

Julian Voss hated long dinners.

They were a waste of time with meaningless chatter, fake smiles, and wine that cost more than the monthly rent of some entire neighborhoods. He preferred deals closed in numbers, not over champagne and business cards. 

So, tonight, he left early.

It was raining. The kind of heavy rain that blurred everything and made the night feel colder than it actually was. Just as his car glided down the empty road, near the industrial district, he saw them. Two men in suits, stepping out of a black SUV and dragging a figure from the backseat. 

A woman. 

He immediately ordered his driver, Darryl to stop the car after the men had sped off. He didn't need to chase them. He already had their license plate—ABC-47T6 which he had memorized in seconds.

By the time they arrived at the estate, Calla was still unconscious, but Julian's private physician, Dr. Daines, was already waiting with two nurses. They had converted one of his guest wings into a medical suite. 

As they worked, Julian leaned against the wall at the far end of the room, watching carefully. His dark hair was still wet from the rain and the sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up.

After a few tension-filled minutes, the doctor straightened. "She’s in postpartum bleed. She just gave birth, but whoever handled it, did it wrong. Also, she's not properly stitched and has lost a lot of blood. Nearly three liters."

Julian remained silent with his arms crossed. He couldn't help, but wonder what she could've done to deserve this—being thrown out like trash and left to die.

"She's lucky you found her when you did. Another hour in the cold and she might not have made it."

One of the nurses turned to Julian. "We need fresh clothes. And she's going to need a transfusion immediately."

Without taking his eyes off Calla's pale form, Julian spoke to Darryl who was standing nearby. "Get her anything she needs. Blankets, clothes, vitamins, everything. No one gets into this room unless I say so."

"Yes, Sir"

Julian walked into his private study on the left wing, where screens lined the walls and computers ran silently. As the founder and owner of one of the world's leading technology conglomerates, he had developed a hacking and tracking system that garnered significant attention and recognition around the world.

"License plate, ABC-47T6." He said to the systems as though he was speaking to another person in the room. "Trace it. I want the car, the ownership history, the driver, and every connection it has. Use the black system."

The 'Black system' was his private network. A highly illegal, custom-designed web of surveillance tools, decryption software, and real-time tracking that could hack into almost anything: city traffic cams, medical records, offshore accounts... anything.

Within seconds, the screens lit up.

The plate belonged to a vehicle registered to a shell company, one that funneled money through a trail of fake addresses and non-existent owners.

Julian smirked.

He had dealt with this type of people in the past and knew all their tactics at the back of his hands. They thought they could cover their tracks? It was high time they learned no one could hide from Julian Voss.

"Find the last ten people who used that car. Match their faces and trace where they came from before tonight."

The system buzzed in response, piecing together security footage, phone logs, traffic feeds, and hotel entries, just as it had been told to do.

*****

Later that night, Darryl entered his office where he stayed up to finish some work. "We tracked the car. It was parked earlier today at a private hospital, Blackthorne Medical."

"And?" 

"The owners of the shell company trace back to... King Holdings."

Julian leaned back on his seat and looked up at him. King Holdings was one of the largest old-money conglomerates in the country. Politically protected, ruthless in business, and unshakable. He had never cared about their business, but was familiar with the head of King's empire, Norman King. 

That son of a bîtch.

"Pull their board, I want everything," Julian said, returning to his computer. "And find out all the people that were discharged from Blackthorne Medical today."

•••SIX DAYS LATER~

{AT THE GUEST WING}

The room was quiet.

Sunlight spilled in through the curtains and somewhere, far off, a piano played softly. The bed was large and comfortable, the pillows were soft, and the sheets smelled like flowers. But Calla didn't register any of it.

She stared at the ceiling for a long moment, not knowing where she was, but she knew she wasn't in that cage called a room anymore. Her throat was dry, her body ached in different places, and there was a strange emptiness inside her—one she couldn't explain yet.

Until it hit her.

Her babies.

Her eyes widened as she shot up from the bed, only to fall back with a painful cry. Her abdomen felt like it had been ripped open and her arms started to tremble.

"Where... where are they?" She whispered as panic rose in her chest. "My babies..." 

A nurse rushed in, followed by another. 

"Careful, Miss," One of them said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Don't touch me!" Calla screamed, slapping the hand away. "Where are my children? Let me see them! Where... where are they?!"