In the quiet hours before dawn, the streets of Chicago were nearly deserted.
The little café she and Bruce used to frequent was now boarded up, the lights long extinguished. The saplings they once planted together had grown into towering trees.
Coleen suddenly realized that traces of their hard work were scattered all over Chicago—silent witnesses to years of shared dreams.
On the big screen in the square, her interview was playing—followed immediately by a barrage of online attacks against her and the Sandoval Group.
She stood still, staring up at the screen, her expression calm and unreadable.
Until a murmur rippled through the crowd. Someone recognized her.
Insults and accusations followed like a wave. Coleen turned and fled, her footsteps echoing down a deserted alley.
When she finally stopped, she exhaled softly.
'Safe now,' she thought.
But the next second—someone struck her from behind. Then everything went dark.
...
"Bruce," a gruff voice echoed in the dimly lit factory, "the two women closest to you are in our hands. You'd better hand over the two confidential documents immediately. Otherwise..."
A cold laugh followed. "The result won't be something you want to see."
The chair beneath Coleen was hard and cold, the steel biting through her skin. A blade pressed against her throat, gleaming in the dim light.
Emily whimpered beside her, tears streaking her face.
"Bruce... my wound... it hurts so much—it won't stop bleeding..."
Compared to Emily's desperate cries, Coleen's silence seemed almost dignified.
Bruce's gaze turned sharp as ice. His tone was lethal.
"If you lay a finger on Emily, you'll never get what you want."
The kidnapper hesitated and slightly loosened his grip.
Bruce let out a quiet, humorless laugh. Then he tossed a black folder across the floor.
"Here. The information you wanted."
The man snatched it up, flipped through it—and his face darkened. "There's only one file?"
"Because I only intend to save one person," Bruce replied indifferently.
The words dropped like shards of glass.
"Give Emily back to me. As for Coleen..." His tone was flat, merciless. "Do whatever you want with her."
Thunder cracked across the sky, illuminating the rain-slick floor. Coleen stood frozen, her heart colder than it had ever been.
Through the flashes of lightning, she watched Bruce and Emily's silhouettes disappear into the darkness—leaving her behind in despair.
"Mrs. Sandoval... what a devoted wife you are," one of the men sneered.
He grinned, the tip of his dagger tracing a cruel line along her cheek as if deciding where to cut first.
Suddenly, Bruce's earlier words echoed in her mind.
"You did this, didn't you? Emily was tortured, while you're spotless and unscathed. Coleen, since when did you become so vicious?"
Her?
Coleen almost laughed.
He once told her that the simplest explanation was often a lie—that people only showed you what they wanted you to believe.
So why had he forgotten his own lesson?
Had Emily's injury blinded him that completely?
The kidnappers burst into crude laughter.
"Well, at least we got one file and one beauty—wait... this file is fake!"
Rage consumed his face. He slapped her hard across the cheek, the crack echoing through the empty space.
"Damn it! That slick bastard played us!" he snarled, eyes blazing. "And you—you useless woman!"
His voice dropped to a menacing whisper, low and guttural.
"If we can't get the real file..." He leaned closer, the knife pressing harder against her skin. "Then we'll just take you instead."
