Cut to: Marcus Blackwood’s private facility, watching the news coverage
Marcus sat in his leather chair, brandy in hand, watching the television with satisfaction. The news was showing footage of Blackwood Tower, police cars and ambulances surrounding it.
"Breaking news: Hostage situation at Monroe Global CEO’s residence. Details still erging, but reports suggest Damien Blackwood’s brother Marcus has taken Aria Monroe and her son"
He clicked it off, smiling. The real ga was just beginning and this ti, he was going to win.
Aria POV
Six hours.
Noah had been gone for six hours, thirty-two minutes, and eighteen seconds.
I knew because I’d been staring at the clock on the FBI command center wall, watching each second tick by like a countdown to the end of the world.
"Ms. Monroe, we need you to go through the tiline again." Agent Sarah sat across from , her expression professionally sympathetic. "I know it’s difficult, but any detail could help us locate your son."
"I’ve told you everything three tis already." My voice sounded hollow, even to my own ears. "Marcus disabled the security system. He got past the guards. He took Noah and jumped off the ledge with a harness his team extracted, then they disappeared."
"And you didn’t see which direction"
"No." I closed my eyes, seeing it again. Noah’s terrified face as they descended. His screams for are getting fainter. "I was forty-three floors up. By the ti I got downstairs, they were gone."
My penthouse had been transford into a federal cri scene. Agents everywhere, dusting for prints, collecting evidence, speaking in low urgent voices. The broken window had been cordoned off with yellow tape.
Damien stood by that window now, his back to the room, phone pressed to his ear. He’d been making calls ever since. Calling in every favor, mobilizing every resource, offering rewards that made the FBI agents’ eyes widen.
Ten million dollars for information leading to Noah’s recovery.
Twenty million for Noah’s safe return.
Fifty million for Marcus’s capture.
Money couldn’t fix everything. But Damien was trying anyway.
"Ms. Monroe?" Agent Sarah voice pulled back. "I need to inform you that the dia has gotten wind of the situation."
My stomach dropped. "How?"
"We’re not sure but soone leaked it." She pulled out her tablet, and I saw the headlines already spreading across news sites.
BILLIONAIRE CEO’S SON KIDNAPPED IN DRAMATIC ABDUCTION
BLACKWOOD FAMILY FEUD TURNS DEADLY: CHILD CAUGHT IN CROSSFIRE
BREAKING: Three-Year-Old Heir Missing After Uncle’s Hostage Situation
Each headline had photos. Grainy security footage of Marcus entering my building. An old photo of Noah from so database.
"They’re gathering outside the building," Agent Sarah continued. "We have NYPD crowd control, but it’s getting overwhelming. You should prepare for"
The elevator dinged.
Every head in the room turned. The doors opened, revealing Olivia, her face pale and drawn. She was carrying my phone—the one I’d thrown at Marcus and left behind in Noah’s room.
"It’s been ringing nonstop," she said quietly, crossing to . "Every news outlet in the country. Your board mbers. Your parents."
My parents of course they’d call now to pretend that they were concerned about their grandson.
"Delete everything," I said flatly. "I don’t want to hear from any of them."
"Aria"
"Delete. It. All."
Olivia hesitated, then nodded. She sat beside , taking my hand. Her fingers were warm but mine were ice-cold.
"Have you eaten anything?" she asked softly.
I couldn’t rember. Couldn’t rember the last ti I’d eaten, or slept, or done anything except stare at that clock and pray for my phone to ring with news.
"Marcus will call," Damien said suddenly, turning from the window. His voice was rough. "He didn’t take Noah to kill him, he took him for leverage."
Agent Sarah stood. "Mr. Blackwood, we’ve discussed this. If Marcus contacts you, you need to let us handle"
"I’ll handle it." Damien’s eyes were cold, dead. "Whatever he wants, I’ll give him. The company, my fortune, my life. Anything."
"With all due respect, negotiating with kidnappers"
"Is exactly what I’m going to do." He looked at the agent, and sothing in his expression made her take a step back. "My brother took my son because I took everything from him. Fine. He can have it back. All of it. As long as Noah cos ho safe."
"Damien" I started, but he shook his head.
"Don’t." His voice cracked. "Don’t tell it’s not my fault. Don’t tell we’ll find him. Just... don’t."
He turned back to the window, and I saw his reflection in the glass. Saw the way his hands were shaking. The way his jaw was clenched so tight it had to hurt.
This was killing him. This guilt, this helplessness. Good because he deserved it. Except... looking at him now, seeing his anguish, I felt sothing I didn’t want to feel. Sothing dangerously close to sympathy.
No. I couldn’t afford sympathy. Not when Noah was still missing.
My phone buzzed in Olivia’s hand.
Everyone in the room froze.
Agent Sarah moved first, gesturing for Olivia to hand it over. "Is it him?"
Olivia looked at the screen, and her face went white. "It’s... a video ssage from an unknown number."
The room erupted into motion. Agents swarming, setting up recording equipnt, preparing to trace the call. Agent Sarah pulled on headphones, nodded to her tech team.
"Put it on speaker," she ordered. "And record everything."
Olivia’s hand shook as she opened the ssage and pressed play.
The video was dark at first, just shadows and muffled sounds. Then the cara adjusted, and I saw him.
Noah.
My baby. Sitting in what looked like a windowless room, concrete walls, a single bare bulb overhead. He looked tiny in that space, huddled on a cot that was too big for him, clutching his stuffed rabbit—the one I’d packed in his overnight bag days ago.
He’d been crying. His eyes were red and swollen, his cheeks blotchy.
But he was alive.
"Baby," I whispered, reaching toward the screen like I could touch him through the glass.
Noah looked directly at the cara, and my heart shattered all over again.
"Mama?" His voice was so small. So scared. "Mama, where are you? I want to go ho. The scary man with the scary face says I have to stay here, but I want you. Please co get ."
Tears blurred my vision as Olivia’s grip on my hand tightened painfully.
"I’m being good, Mama. I promise I’m being good. I ate my dinner even though it was yucky, and I didn’t cry too much. The scary man says if I’m good, I can talk to you soon. So I’m being really, really good."
His voice broke on the last word, and he started crying again. Soft, hiccupping sobs that tore through .
"I want Daddy too," Noah whispered. "Can you both co get ? I promise I’ll be good forever if you just co get . I promise"
The video cut off abruptly.
The silence that followed was deafening.
I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Could only stare at the frozen image of my son’s tear-stained face.
Then Damien made a sound—sothing between a sob and a roar—and put his fist through the wall.
"Damien!" Agent Sarah moved toward him, but he waved her off.
"Did you trace it?" His voice was savage. "Tell you traced it."
The tech agent looked up from his laptop, his face grim. "Signal bounced through twelve different servers across four countries. By the ti we pinpointed the origin..." He shook his head. "Whoever sent this knows what they’re doing."
"So we have nothing." Damien’s hand was bleeding from the wall, but he didn’t seem to notice. "My son is terrified and alone, and we have nothing."
"We have the video," Agent Sarah said firmly. "We can analyze the background, the sounds, any detail that might indicate location. This isn’t nothing, Mr. Blackwood. This is evidence."
"Evidence won’t bring him ho!"
"But it’s a start."
My phone buzzed again. This ti, it was a text ssage. Three words, from the sa unknown number.
Check your email.
Agent Sarah was already pulling up my email on her laptop. "What’s your password?"
I told her, my voice chanical.
She typed rapidly, then froze. "Oh my god."
"What?" Damien crossed to her in two strides. "What is it?"
She turned the laptop so we could see.
The email was short. Just a few lines of text and a link.
Dear Aria and Damien,
As you can see, young Noah is safe. Uncomfortable, perhaps. Scared, certainly. But unhard.
For now.
If you want him to remain that way, you’ll follow my instructions exactly. No FBI. No police. No heroes.
Just the two of you, doing exactly as I say.
The link below will take you to a livestream. It goes active in thirty minutes. Be watching because the whole world will be.
Let the gas begin.
—M
"What livestream?" I demanded. "What is he talking about?"
Agent Sarah was already typing, her fingers flying across the keyboard. "The link is... it’s going to a private streaming platform. Encrypted. But I can see the setup—he’s configured it to go public. To broadcast to anyone with the URL."
"Broadcast what?" Damien’s voice was deadly quiet.
She looked up at him, and I saw fear in her eyes. Real fear.
"I think," she said slowly, "he’s about to make this very public. Whatever he’s planning, he wants an audience."
My phone buzzed a third ti. Another text.
Tell the FBI to back off, or the next video won’t be as pleasant. You have 30 minutes to clear the room. Just you two and the livestream or Noah pays the price.
"He’s watching us," Olivia breathed. "He has to be. How else would he know the FBI is here?"
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