Chapter 1

My parents’ enemies had kidnapped me.

The kidnappers?

Bold as hell.

They were streaming the whole thing live.

Twelve hours in, they’d chopped off all but one of my fingers.

The comments were rolling fast:

[I can’t take it anymore! This kid’s screams are breaking me!]

[Didn’t they say the parents just need to call in to save her? Where are the parents?!]

[Is this kid even theirs?]

Even the kidnappers were getting impatient.

One of them ripped the tape off my mouth.

I was about to defend my parents—explain that they were elite cops often sent on dangerous missions.

They probably just couldn’t get away right now.

Then my phone buzzed.

It was a vacation photo.

From her.

“Hey, sis! Mom and Dad and I just landed in Miami~”

“Mom said having you around would ruin the vibe, so they’re spending my 18th birthday with just me!”

In the picture, my parents were on either side of Lila, grinning from ear to ear.

She looked so smug.

And in the background?

My aunt, uncle, cousins, and even my gray-haired grandma.

All smiles.

So, while I was being tortured live, my entire family was blissfully unaware.

One of the kidnappers gave me a suspicious look.

“Call them,” he barked, shoving a phone into my hand.

When my mom picked up, her voice was already full of irritation.

“I knew it! I knew you’d call to ruin this!”

“Ever since we brought you back from that hick town, this family hasn’t had a single peaceful day!"

" Lila hasn’t even had one proper birthday because of you!”

“This time, no matter what, we’re not putting Lila out just for you.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. My voice cracked.

“Mom… I’ve been kidnapped…”

She cut me off, disgust evident in her tone.

“Charlotte! You’re so dramatic!”

“When you’re dead, call me then. I’ll come collect the body.”

Then she hung up.

A moment later, I got another text.

“Mom really hates you, huh? After she hung up, Dad blocked you."

"Oh, and they told me not to talk to you, either. LOL.”

My chest tightened.

It felt like my heart was being squeezed until it would burst.

This pain was worse than losing my fingers.

Everything became a blur.

I felt like I was sinking, fading away…

SPLASH.

A bucket of cold water hit me square in the face.

“Not so fast!” one of the kidnappers sneered.

“You don’t get to pass out. Your parents don’t call in, you keep suffering.”

“You’ve got one finger left. When that’s gone, we’ll start on your toes."

"And when those are gone, maybe your ears.”

The livestream chat went crazy:

[These guys are monsters! How can they do this to a kid?!]

[Forget the kidnappers, where the hell are the parents? This kid didn’t deserve any of this.]

[Cowards! If you’re gonna hurt someone, hurt the parents, not their child!]

No matter how outraged the chat was, it didn’t stop the knife.

My last finger was gone.

The pain was so intense I wanted to die.

I screamed—shrill, raw, unending.

People watching on their screens flinched and covered their ears.

Even the flood of comments froze for a moment.

Then one big, bold message lit up the chat:

[Connect with me! I’m Roger Quinn, captain of the SWAT team!]

The name hit me like a bolt of lightning.

Dad.

Dad had found me.

He was going to save me.

Chapter 2

The call connected, but it wasn’t my dad’s voice.

The kidnappers caught on immediately.

One of them flew into a rage and threatened to cut off my ear as punishment.

“Wait! Don’t do anything rash!” the voice on the other end pleaded.

“I’m Roger Quinn’s superior. This is the only way we could track you down!”

“You’ve got the wrong person."

"Everyone in the department knows Roger Quinn only has one daughter—Lila."

"The whole family’s on vacation overseas right now.”

“If you’ve got demands, just say them. Leave the kid out of this!”

The kidnapper didn’t care. He grabbed me roughly, dragging me forward until I was forced to kneel in front of the camera.

The chair I was tied to scraped loudly against the floor, and when my knees hit the ground, the pain shot through every inch of my body.

But even that didn’t hurt as much as what I felt inside.

He sneered, yanking my hair to force me upright.

“Take a good look at this face,” he said, gesturing at me like I was an object.

“This is Roger Quinn’s real daughter. Call him. Right now. Or I’ll kill her.”

The man on the line hesitated, then sighed.

He had no choice.

He called my dad.

But the first voice that answered wasn’t his.

“Dad, both dresses are just too expensive,” a girl whined.

“Maybe I should just save money and… Oh, wait, Dad, someone’s calling you.”

Finally, I heard his voice. Calm. Collected.

“Hello, sir. What’s going on?”

The man on the other end jumped straight to the point.

“How many daughters do you have, Quinn?”

Without a second of hesitation, Dad replied, “Just one. Lila. Why? Is something wrong?”

The man explained the situation.

Dad’s response? A slight sigh, as if mildly inconvenienced.

“Looks like these criminals aren’t very bright. They don’t even know they’ve kidnapped the wrong person.”

He paused for dramatic effect, then added, “I mean, I feel bad for the poor kid. Really, I do."

"It’s a shame they’re going through this because of me. But my family’s overseas right now."

"Even if we wanted to help, we wouldn’t make it back in time.”

“And honestly, where are this kid’s parents? How have they not shown up yet? So irresponsible.”

The man pressed him.

“Quinn, just in case, could you come back anyway? Maybe it’d convince the kidnappers to let the kid go.”

There was silence on the line.

Then, in a teary voice, Lila chimed in.

“It’s okay, Dad. My birthday isn’t important. That poor girl is going through so much."

"And if bad things keep happening every time I celebrate, I’ll just stop having birthdays altogether.”

“No. We’re not going,” Dad said firmly.

After comforting Lila, he turned back to his superior.

“I’m sorry, sir. My wife and I have spent years risking our lives on the job."

"All we wanted was to celebrate a birthday with our one and only daughter.”

Their one and only daughter.

But I’m their only biological child.

Because I was kidnapped as a baby and raised in the countryside, I wasn’t pretty or smart.

I didn’t fit in with them.

They never acknowledged me in public.

Never even got me an official ID.

My chest burned, the fire spreading through my ribs, my lungs, my stomach.

It felt like everything inside me was crumbling, breaking apart.

I couldn’t even stop myself from retching.

While the superior kept pleading on the call, the kidnappers ignored him.

One of them yanked off my shoe, holding a pair of pliers.

His voice was low, cruel.

“Remember this, kid. Every bit of pain you’re feeling right now? It’s all because of your parents.”

Then he crushed one of my toes.

The sharp, blinding pain sent me thrashing.

In my struggles, I kicked over the streaming phone, sending it crashing to the ground.

As I lay there, tears and blood blurring my vision, I caught sight of a glowing comment on the livestream:

[I’m Lila Carter’s classmate. I swear I just saw her celebrating her birthday here in town. What’s going on?!]

Chapter 3

Lila didn’t go overseas?

What about my parents? The whole family?

If they’re still in town, how could they not see the livestream?

How could they not come to save me?

I didn’t care about the kidnappers looming behind me.

I clawed at the ground, dragging myself over to where my phone lay.

With my mangled fingers, I opened the photo Lila had sent—the one of their supposed trip to Hawaii.

I zoomed in.

Then zoomed in again.

And there it was.

Clear as day.

The buildings in the background weren’t in Hawaii.

They were right here.

The city beach.

From behind me, one of the kidnappers let out a twisted laugh.

“Ha! Your parents never went anywhere. They’re hiding, like the cowards they are!"

"They don’t want to save you. They don’t care about you!”

I felt something snap inside my head.

The truth hit me like a freight train, so terrifying I couldn’t dwell on it for even a second.

With whatever strength I had left, I crawled to the phone still broadcasting the livestream.

My blood- and tear-streaked face filled the screen as I screamed into it:

“Dad! Mom! It’s me, Charlotte! Can’t you see me?!”

“My fingers are gone. I’m in so much pain. I’m dying."

"Are you really not going to save me?!”

“I’m your daughter! Your real daughter!”

The comments exploded.

[This is breaking my heart. I can’t take it.]

[I’m her dad now. You sick bastard, let the girl go! I’ll pay the ransom!]

[I’m her mom! Take Lila instead and let her go!]

[We’re ALL her parents! Name your price and let her go!]

The internet was full of strangers claiming to be my parents.

But my real parents?

They never showed up.

From the day I returned to their house, all they’d ever given me were cold stares and disdain.

If I was happy, they’d scold me for stealing from Lila.

If I was sad, they’d say I ruined the mood.

And yet, the pull of blood ties still made me yearn for their love.

I was foolish enough to believe, deep down, they loved me too.

The kidnapper ended the livestream with a click, sealing my fate with a cruel finality.

“Your parents aren’t coming for you, kid.”

I clamped my hands over my ears, shaking my head.

My voice was barely a whisper.

“No… They just haven’t seen it yet…”

The kidnapper yanked me by the hair, shoving my phone in front of my face.

His tone was mocking, dripping with pity.

“Pathetic. You really are. A kid nobody wants. Face it, kid—this is your life.”

Then my phone buzzed.

It was a new video.

From Lila.

In the video, my family was on the beach, lighting fireworks.

Under the glow of the sparklers, they laughed and clinked their glasses together, toasting Lila’s birthday.

And in the corner of the shot?

Tossed carelessly on the table was a phone playing my livestream.

My cries, my suffering, echoing faintly in the background.

No one paid it any attention.

Lila quickly deleted the video, but not before sending me one last message:

“Oops, wrong video! Dad told everyone to pretend they didn’t see you, though."

"So just do the same, ‘kay?”

“Oh wait, doesn’t matter if you see it or not. You’re nothing but a filthy little rat, Charlotte."

"And you’re going to die in the gutter where you belong.”

I collapsed onto the floor, trembling so violently I could barely breathe.

Blood poured from my severed fingers, pooling beneath me.

But no tears came. My eyes had run dry.

The kidnapper crouched down next to me, his voice low and coaxing, like a devil tempting a soul.

“Why don’t you hate them?"

"Look at them, having the time of their lives while you’re here, bleeding, suffering alone.”

“If I were you, I’d drag every last one of them down to hell.”

He shoved a remote into my trembling hand.

“All it takes is one press of this button,” he said, his eyes glinting with fury.

“And the footage of Roger Quinn torturing and killing my daughter will be uploaded everywhere."

"His career, his life—gone. He’ll regret every second of ignoring you.”

The kidnapper leaned in close, his voice almost a growl.

“I want Roger Quinn to die. And I want it to be at the hands of his real daughter.”