Chapter 3

I didn’t sleep that night.

Nor the nights that followed. Time felt rotten, its seconds reeking of blood and fear. I moved like a living corpse.

Day one, I called a property agent.

“My apartment, sell it fast. Any price.”

There was a long pause before he replied, his voice cautious.

“The market is down, Mrs. Margaretha. A quick sale could cut the value in half.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I said flatly. “I need the money. Now.”

Day two, the boutique.

The boutique I built from nothing. The boutique I fought for, night after night of overtime and sleepless exhaustion, turning a single million dollars like a reckless gambler chasing fate.

I signed the sales documents without rereading them.

The name Maggie Fashion Shine felt as though it were being ripped straight out of my chest.

Day three, jewelry.

The diamond ring.

The necklace inherited from my biological mother, who they said was a prostitute.

The gold watch I once bought as proof that I had survived.

I let them all go.

I sold everything.

I counted the money again and again.

My hands shook.

My eyes burned.

The amount didn’t even reach half of one hundred seventy million dollars.

I laughed.

Laughed like a madwoman in the empty room that used to be my apartment.

“Nick, Nicholas.”

I pressed my forehead to the floor.

“I’m sorry, my love,” I sobbed. I felt like I was losing my mind.

I had no way out. And when every door was closed, the one name I most wanted to avoid surfaced in my mind.

Steven.

My former fiancé.

I stood in front of his office building, wearing clothes that could no longer be called neat.

My eyes were sunken. My hair a mess. I didn’t care. The receptionist scanned me from head to toe.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“Tell Steven,” my voice cold and cracked at the same time, “Meggie is here.”

My name still worked like an old key.

The door opened. Steven stood behind a massive desk, expensive suit, gleaming watch.

He was successful now. Money had changed him. The man I once fed when he was nothing more than a manager with dreams too big for his salary, the man who now owned his own company.

I knew Steven had always been a hard worker. He looked at me as if I were a stain.

“What do you want?” he asked coldly. There was no love left.

I swallowed. My pride had died the moment Nick was taken.

“I need your help.”

He smirked.

“Help? After disappearing for six years? Showing up just to beg? You’re here for money, aren’t you?”

“My child was kidnapped,” I said plainly.

“I need money, Steven. Please lend me one hundred seventy million dollars. I promise I’ll pay it back.”

His expression changed, not to pity, but disgust.

“A child?” he chuckled. “That bastard child? Let him die in the kidnapper’s hands.”

My blood boiled.

“Why save a child whose father isn’t even clear?” he continued cruelly.

“Face it, Meggie. Your life has always been trouble.”

SLAP!

My hand struck his cheek before my mind could stop it. The sound echoed through the luxurious office.

“Never,” my voice trembled violently, “ever speak of my child like that. Or wish death on him.”

Steven clutched his cheek, his eyes dark with rage.

“You’ve gone too far!”

“No,” I stepped closer. “You’re the one who’s forgotten who you are, Steven.”

I stared straight at him.

“Before the expensive suits and that comfortable chair, who were you? A small manager with barely enough salary to survive.”

He fell silent.

“I paid for your education. I covered your debts. I stood behind you when everyone laughed at you,” my voice broke.

“Even your own family doubted you. I was the only one who believed you’d make your dreams come true. And now you insult me? Insult my child?”

The door burst open.

“Wow,” a sweet but venomous voice said. “What kind of drama is this?”

Olivia. My younger sister. She walked in carrying a designer bag, lips curled into a mocking smile. Olivia looked perfectly healthy.

Was this really the woman my family feared would die six years ago because her body was supposedly weak?

Nonsense.

I was more convinced than ever that Olivia had only pretended to be sick to steal everyone’s attention.

“Why is Sister Meggie at my husband’s office?” she asked sweetly.

“What are you here for? Seducing my husband again?”

I laughed bitterly.

“Funny,” I said softly. “You dare talk about stealing? You’re the one who stole Steven from me. You’re the one who seduced him.”

Olivia crossed her arms.

“You’ve always been jealous of me, Meggie. I got Steven because we love each other. I didn’t seduce him, you were just too boring, and he got sick of you and chose me.”

I looked straight at her.

“You’re cheap, Olivia,” I said mercilessly. “You slept with Steven while he was still my fiancé.”

Her face stiffened.

“You cried, played the victim. Pretended to be sick. And Father forced me to let Steven go.”

I turned away. I couldn’t waste more time here. Begging Steven was pointless. He would never help.

But before I could leave, Steven said,

“Meggie, just let your child go. He’s a burden. The ransom is too large.”

I thought he might at least remember what I’d done for him and show some mercy. I was wrong. His words almost made me laugh.

He wanted me to give up on Nick.

“I will not let my child die,” I said firmly.

Without money.

Without help.

Without anyone.

Outside the director’s office, my legs finally gave out. I dropped to my knees, gasping for breath.

“Nick…, wait for Mama,” I whispered through tears.

“Mama will save you.”

I had lost everything. But I couldn’t lose Nicholas.

I forced myself to stand and walk again. Olivia would laugh if she knew I was crying here.

The elevator doors closed in front of me with a soft sound, but it felt like a hammer smashing into my chest.

Olivia’s and Steven’s insults echoed in my head, louder than the hum of the descending elevator. I stood rigid, fists clenched, nails digging into my palms until it hurt.

When the doors opened, I stepped out without knowing where I was going. The hallway felt long and cold.

I didn’t remember when I reached the parking lot, or when my hands started shaking on the steering wheel.

“Calm down,” I muttered to myself. “You have to stay calm.”

My phone vibrated.

Once.

Then stopped.

Panic surged.

My chest tightened as I stared at the screen for too long before answering, as if delaying a truth I already knew.

“Hello?” My voice was hoarse.

“Time is running, Mrs. Margaretha,” the voice on the other end said briefly.

I swallowed. “I’m trying. I, I...”

They cut me off before I could finish.

“We’re not interested in your efforts.”

I closed my eyes. “I just need a little more time. I’ve sold my assets! I will give you the money!”

“No stories,” the voice interrupted coldly.

My heart pounded. “Please—”

Click.

The call ended.

I stared at my phone for a long time. My breathing was ragged, as if I had just run miles, even though my body hadn’t moved at all.

They wouldn’t listen.

They didn’t care.

I slammed my fist against the steering wheel. My scream broke apart, unheard by anyone.

“Nick…”

His name slipped out like a belated prayer.

I started the car.

There was no one left to ask for help the right way. No doors left to knock on politely.

Minutes later, my phone vibrated again.

An unknown number. But my instincts screamed it was them. I answered without hesitation.

“Don’t do anything to Nick!”

“Come alone, Mrs. Margaretha,” the voice said, heavy with threat.

“We will send the address.”