Bella didn't take it seriously at all.
"Normal? Are you out of your mind? The kidnappers sent a video!" Julian roared, his anxiety boiling into rage.
Valerie leaned in, trembling. "Bella, listen to me! Frankie is covered in blood. He was screaming for help... You need to get the money. Now!"
"Videos can be faked, Mom! Don't you know what kind of person Aaron is? He probably staged the whole thing. Stop bothering me with this nonsense."
Her tone was sharp with impatience. "I'm busy. I have work to do."
She hung up without waiting for a reply.
John immediately wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, breath hot against her ear. "Relax. Frankie is already at the airport."
"I know," Bella scoffed. "That idiot Aaron is still completely in the dark."
A smug smile played on her lips, but it faltered as she felt his hands roam lower. A shiver ran through her. "John... you're terrible... watch where you're putting those hands..."
They embraced, dissolving into intimate kisses, oblivious to the chaos they were ignoring.
Back at the house, Julian and Valerie shook with fury.
"She... she's abandoning her own son just to fool around with John," Julian stammered, face turning a dangerous purple.
"She's gone crazy!" Valerie sobbed.
Julian slammed his fist against his thigh. "That man is poison!"
"Maybe she really is working..." I offered weakly, deliberately playing the oblivious, spineless husband to stoke their anger.
"Enough!" Julian snapped. "How can you be this spineless? They're living together, for God's sake!"
His fists clenched until the knuckles cracked.
"John is scum. Chases skirts all day. I've warned Bella a thousand times, but she refuses to listen!" He paced the room, frantic. "What do we do? We don't have the cash on hand. Are we just going to watch Frankie die?"
Valerie wept uncontrollably.
"We could call the police," I suggested quietly. "It's almost three o'clock. The deadline is five. That gives us two hours."
"But the kidnappers said they'd kill him if we involved the cops..." Valerie's eyes went wide with terror.
"What choice do we have?" Julian slammed his teacup onto the table, shattering it. "That unfilial daughter of ours has been brainwashed by John. She doesn't care about anyone but him."
"I'll try her one more time," I said.
I dialed Bella's number.
"Sorry, the number you have dialed is powered off. Please try again later…"
She had turned off her phone.
"Unfilial! Absolutely heartless!" Julian shouted, his disappointment hitting rock bottom.
Just then, my phone buzzed. Another message from the kidnappers.
[Two hours left.]
It was accompanied by a second video. Far worse than the first. My son was soaked in what looked like chili water or chemicals. His face was beaten to a pulp, swollen beyond recognition—a grotesque, bloody mask.
Valerie screamed. Julian couldn't sit still any longer.
"Call the police! Now!"
Plainclothes officers arrived quickly. After assessing the situation, they instructed me to stall the kidnappers—lie and say the ransom was ready.
The kidnappers sent an exchange location and demanded I come alone.
Before I left, Julian and Valerie clasped their hands together, praying fervently for Jesus to protect their grandson.
But I knew the truth. Frankie wasn't coming back.
In John's plan, there was never an option for Frankie to survive. The videos were likely prerecorded hours ago.
I arrived at the drop-off point, a desolate stretch of road.
The moment the bagman appeared, the ambush sprang. Police swarmed from all directions, tackling him to the ground.
"Where is my son?! Is he okay?!"
I rushed forward, grabbing the kidnapper by his collar, shaking him violently. I had to sell the performance.
"He's been dead for hours!" The kidnapper threw his head back and laughed, showing zero remorse. "Who told you to drag your feet? You took too long, so we finished him! Hahahaha!"
The man was deranged.
"I'll kill you! Bastard!"
I lunged at him, landing a punch on his jaw before officers dragged me away.
An hour later, at the station.
The police had broken the kidnapper during interrogation. They led me to the morgue.
Frankie's body lay on the cold steel table. Tortured so brutally he barely looked human.
I threw myself over his corpse, letting out a guttural wail. As I lay there performing the devastated father, the door burst open.
Julian and Valerie rushed in, eyes landing on the mangled body of their grandson. The room filled with the sound of their heartbreak.
