After opening the black file and seeing Ava's wide-eyed horror that morning, there was nothing else to say. Her silence was louder than any shout.
She didn't ask any more questions.
She didn't even look at me the same, but I didn't have the time to ease her fears.
My children were still gone and whoever took them knew me, not the version in the media, not the billionaire with a cruel smile and elegant suit.
No, this person knew the version I tried to bury ten years ago in the narrow streets of Harlem, under contracts soaked in blood and debts paid in fear.
I stood by the window, watching the city in restless disorder.
Somewhere out there, my children were alone, waiting for me.
And someone was playing a game I didn't remember starting somewhere, and they were using my children as instruments.
Ava sat on the edge of the armrest behind me, hugging her arms around herself.
Her hair was still messy from the night before, and her eyes, formerly bold, now empty-eyed.
I hated that look on her because she didn't deserve any of this.
"We're starting the search today," I said, not turning to face her.
She looked up. "How?"
"I have eyes everywhere in New York. And we won't be waiting for them to report. We'll be out there too."
She stood. "You mean... the two of us?"
"Yes."
A moment of silence.
"You think that's smart?"
"No," I said. "But I think it's necessary."
She hesitated, and then asked the question I knew was coming.
"What if this is a trap?"
I finally turned to her. "Then I walk into it."
Her eyes widened, caught off guard by my words
"And me?" she whispered.
"I'll protect you." I stepped closer, lowering my voice. "Even if it costs me everything."
For a second, her eyes softened just for a heartbeat. But she quickly looked away.
We left before noon.
I instructed my P.A to activate Protocol V, a private channel that alerted my underground network without raising flags.
The New York Police Department had already been notified, but I didn't trust them, not with this or the past I'd buried.
Ava insisted on wearing a hoodie and sunglasses.
She looked like a terrified celebrity, but I didn't comment. If that made her feel safer, fine.
We started in Lower Manhattan, at a private hospital where my name had once been removed from records for "donations."
My gut told me this was personal, and if the kidnapper had ties to my past, they'd start where I had sins to hide.
The receptionist's smile vanished when I flashed my old ID.
"Is Dr. Marino still here?" I asked, keeping my voice low.
She hesitated. "She retired four years ago."
"Where does she live?"
"Mr. Nicholas, I can't give out personal information."
I stepped closer. "I donated two million dollars to this facility. That information isn't personal, it's mine."
Ava pulled at my sleeve. "Nicholas..."
I turned, sensing movement behind us. A man in scrubs glanced at us from the far hallway.
Then quickly looked away.
I approached him. "Hey."
He froze.
"Dr. Marino's location. Now."
He swallowed. "She... she owns a place near Queensbridge Park, on Vernon. She doesn't take visitors."
"She'll take me."
We were in the car again ten minutes later. Ava kept looking out the window, but I could tell she fidgeted.
"This isn't your fault," I said suddenly.
She turned sharply to face me. "What?"
"The funeral. The kids. All of this. You're not to blame."
She bit her lip. "Then why does it feel like I'm being punished?"
I didn't know what to say.
We reached Queensbridge just as the sky turned steel-grey.
The older woman who opened the door wasn't the sharp Dr. Marino I remembered.
Her hair had turned white, and her hands shook slightly as she gripped on her cane for support.
"You have some nerve," she said in a low voice.
"I need your help."
"You always do." She let us in, reluctantly.
I explained everything, or almost everything.
The missing kids, the connection to the past.
Her files, patients, and the man we once helped disappear.
She paled. "Don't say his name."
"He's dead, isn't he?" I asked.
Her hand trembled against the cane. "We thought he was."
Ava frowned. "Who are you talking about?"
Dr. Marino didn't answer.
She entered the other room and returned with a file, thinner than mine, but old.
"Someone came here last week," she said.
"Didn't say a word. Just left this."
I took it from her, my hands tightening as I flipped it open.
A picture fell out.
My daughters were crying in what looked like an abandoned warehouse.
Ava gasped and covered her mouth. "Oh my God..."
A symbol was in the background, a red wolf emblem inside a circle.
"I know this place," I muttered. "It's from the Bronx."
"Why there?" Ava asked.
"Because that's where the game began," I said coldly.
"And where I buried the man who created it."
She touched my hand. "Nicholas, you're scaring me."
I looked at her.
"You should be scared," I whispered.
"Because we're returning to where I stopped being human."
We left Dr. Marino's house just as rain began to fall.
I felt Ava's fingers tremble slightly against mine when we entered the car. But she didn't pull away.
In the Bronx, we parked a few blocks away from the warehouse.
The building seemed abandoned, rusted shutters hung loosely, broken signs, and weeds crawling everywhere.
"This is it?" she asked.
I nodded. "Stay close."
We entered through a broken side door. The air inside smelled of moulds and hidden truths.
My chest tightened as memories hit me all at once.
There were no lights.
No sounds.
Just silence.
Then- A child's cry.
Ava gasped. "That's them!"
"No," I said, grabbing her arm. "That's a recording."
She froze.
The sound repeated.
And then, from behind us, the heavy door banged close
A cold voice crackled through the speaker, sharp and emotionless.
"Hello, Nicholas. It's been a long time."
Ava gripped my arm. "What is this?"
A bright light shone from above, revealing a screen.
On it, my children. Alive and frightened.
Beside them, a masked man. His eyes burned with anger.
"You left me to die in fire," he rasped.
"Now watch what burns next."
The screen went black.
Ava screamed.
I turned to the wall. In bright red paint, there was a countdown.
02:59:58
We had three hours.
