Nicholas didn't move. He just stood there, rigid, his jaw tight, his hand still gripping the edge of the table.

The light from the hallway caught half his face, sharp enough to show every line of strain and anger. 

Yet, for the first time, his silence didn't feel loud. It felt suffocating. 

His silence wasn't waiting for a storm to come. It was the storm itself.

He hadn't spoken since the phone call with the authorities ended.

"Nicholas," I whispered, standing behind him, with my arms folded to steady my trembling hands. 

"Say something... please."

He turned slowly, and when his eyes locked with mine, I wished he hadn't. 

They had no softness in them, only fury.

"You think a blanket can erase what you did?" 

His voice came very low, calculated, yet bitter enough to break me. 

"Do you even understand what this is to me?"

My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. No words came.

"I didn't plan for this. I didn't ask for the triplets to-"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence or say the word 'missing' again like it's casual. Like they're misplaced documents. They are children. My children," he voiced out, harsh and sudden.

"And they're mine too!" I shot back without thinking.

His eyes fluttered. 

Once, Twice. Shocked, I couldn't help but confront him.

I regretted it immediately.

"No, Ava," he said with a bitter laugh. 

"You were a womb, a temporary vessel". 

"That was the contract, wasn't it?" 

"You weren't supposed to feel anything but now you're here, emotionally invested yet irresponsible enough to walk away and leave my kids vulnerable to God knows what."

"I went out for forty-five minutes!" I yelled. 

"I left them with someone you approved! A licensed nanny! I didn't dump them in the woods!"

"Don't twist this," he said, grinding his teeth as he spoke.

"This isn't about your damn errands; this is about your judgment. I entrusted you, I gave you space in my house. In their lives. You held them, fed them, smiled at them, yet you failed them in the most crucial moment."

The words landed heavy, stronger than any slap.

My voice broke. 

"You think I don't feel guilty? You think I'm not dying inside every second, wondering where they are, if they're crying, if they're cold, if they're alive?"

He stared at me for a long time. 

"I think you always find a way to make their  pain about you."

Then he walked past me, down the hall, and into the study, slamming the door shut.

And just like that, I couldn't hold back the sob in my throat anymore.

I dropped to the ground onto the cold marble, knees to my chest, then pressed my hands against my ears, trying to shut out the sound of his words replaying like a cruel song.

"A womb. A temporary vessel."

God. 

Maybe he was right. Maybe I was just a contract. 

But my heart didn't get the memo.

I cared so deeply it felt like my chest would break.

***

The next morning was unnaturally quiet.

The house had never felt so empty, no crying, no giggles, no tiny footsteps echoing down the hallway.

The kids room door remained closed.

Nicholas hadn't come out of his study. 

Not once. 

The staff walked on eggshells, and the air in the house was thick with fear and guilt.

The police returned with updates, but nothing conclusive. 

No ransom calls, no camera footage, no witnesses. Nothing.

Like they vanished into thin air.

And the silence between Nicholas and me turned into a wall I couldn't climb, no matter how I tried.

Still, I tried.

I knocked on his study door. "Nicholas... please. Just talk to me."

No answer.

I left him food, water, and updates, but he never responded.

By the third day, I stopped trying.

But on the fourth, he surprised me.

I was on the couch, flipping through old photos of the triplets, my chest ached, every picture was a wound reopening when he entered the room. 

He looked tired. 

Rough, hair messy, shirt rumpled, and eyes hollow, like the light inside him had been stolen overnight.

He said nothing for a few seconds.

Then he whispered, "Have you eaten today?"

I nodded, surprised.

"Liar," he said softly. 

Then sat across from me.

"I thought you were done with me," I said quietly, trying not to fall for the slight softness in his tone.

"I am done with you. But I'm not done with them," he said. 

"And right now, you're the only one who might still know anything that could help."

His words burned, but I understood.

I sat straighter. 

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything, every phone call, every place you went, every interaction you had this week. I want to know which nanny you spoke to, and who she let into the house. What was the last time she saw them? I want every detail, no matter how small."

I let out a shaky breath and nodded. "Okay."

I told him everything, every damn thing I could recall. Even things I didn't think mattered. 

Nicholas scribbled notes, eyes sharp and focused.

"I'll have them back," he whispered under his breath. 

"Even if I have to rip the world apart."

The fire in his voice made something inside me ache.

The Nicholas I once feared wasn't cruel, he was simply a man who had lost too much to risk losing more.

Just then, his phone buzzed.

A text.

He read it.

His jaw clenched. 

"What is it?" I asked.

He stood slowly, turning the screen to show me.

Private Number: 

"You took something from me. Now I've taken something from you. I hope you enjoy the fun. Don't forget your time is ticking. Tick, tick."

I went cold all over.

Nicholas froze, staring at the message with  eyes wide like he'd seen a ghost. 

Then he whispered, "This isn't random..."

"What do you mean?"

His lips pressed together.

"I have enemies, Ava. Enemies that smile in boardrooms and strike in shadows. Someone wants revenge, and they're using the only leverage I have left."

I stood too. 

"You think someone you wronged took them?"

He nodded once.

And then?

He looked me dead in the eyes and said

"And now you will help me get them back- whatever it costs."

Nicholas's words hit me like thunder.

"And now you will help me get them back- whatever it costs."

The way he said it, calm but dangerous, made it clear this wasn't a request.

It was a final judgment. And I was now part of a war I didn't start but was somehow central to.

"Whatever it costs?" I repeated, my voice shaky. 

"What does that mean?"

He turned away from me, moving to the cabinet behind the bookshelf and opening a hidden panel. I didn't even know it existed. 

He pulled a black box and a file from it, thick, old, and sealed with a weak leather strap.

He tossed the file onto the table, the contents clinking together.

"It means you'll learn things you were never meant to know about me. Things that'll make you question everything, especially why someone would use children as leverage."

I stepped back. 

"Nicholas, what is this?"

He stared at me, grinding his teeth together. 

"This is the other half of my life, Ava. The part that built this mansion. That funded those children's futures. The part Vivian never liked asking about."

I looked at the file, then back at him. 

"Why now?"

He came closer, voice low. 

"Because whoever took my kids knows me, not just the billionaire, the man, the mistakes. They're not targeting my name; they're targeting my past."

He opened the file containing names, photos, locations, and transactions.

A chill shot through me.

Black-market deals. 

Property handovers in countries I didn't even know existed. 

Signatures. 

Alias names.

Pictures of people I'd never seen, some looked bruised, some beaten.

"What is this?" I whispered.

Nicholas didn't flinch. "Leverage"

He pushed the file closer to me. 

My fingers trembled as I turned one page, then another. 

Some documents were contracts written in foreign languages, but the names were familiar people from Vivian's charity foundation. 

A man I'd once seen shaking hands with Nicholas at an awards gala, A woman who had smiled too brightly during the funeral.

"These people... they worked for you?"

"They worked with me," he corrected. 

"But loyalty has a price, and when money speaks louder than blood, people switch sides."

The weight of silence filled the air.

"You were involved in this?" I asked.

He nodded. 

"Years ago. Before I met Vivian before I knew what life was like with children, back when I believed building an empire meant getting my hands dirty and keeping my heart locked away."

"And now?"

His eyes collided with mine. 

"Now, I'm paying for every secret I buried."

I stood there, the file open between us like an open sore. 

My mind raced with questions I wasn't ready to ask, but one word repeated in my mind.

"Do you think... someone you trusted took them?"

His silence was answer enough.

I backed away, my stomach twisting. 

"And you think I can help with this? Nicholas, I don't even know where to start!"

"You don't need to," he said, standing. 

"You just need to follow me."

He moved toward the hallway, not waiting for me to catch up. The fury in the way he moved made it clear this wasn't just about the kids. 

It was about setting things right.

I followed him out of the study, my bare feet walking slowly against the cold marble. 

We entered another room, smaller, windowless, filled with screens.

"This is the surveillance room," he said flatly.

 "Everything gets recorded here. Every car that enters. Every call that is made from inside this house."

He indicated to the screen on the left. 

It was paused on the footage from the night of the triplets' disappearance. 

I held my breath.

"They didn't break in," I said softly. 

"That car was let in."

He nodded. 

"Someone had access. Which means it was an inside job."

I watched the footage closely. 

The driver wore a cap, and sunglasses. Not even the high-quality zoom could catch their face.

"Who was on duty that night?" I asked.

Nicholas pressed the keyboard. The guard's ID showed up.

"Marco," he said. "New hire, cleared background and no history. But he's gone now. Left that same night."

"You think he was planted?"

"I think he was bought."

We stared at the screen, the same scene repeating; the car entering, headlights blinding, the guard waving it in like it was routine.

I drew in a sharp breath. 

"What do you need me to do?"

He turned to me, his eyes darker than I'd ever seen. 

"Pretend like nothing's changed. Stay here, play your part and watch everyone."

"Everyone?"

"Yes, maids, all staff, Vivian's friends and even my board members, if they show up."

My heart raced in my chest. 

"You think the betrayal goes that deep?"

"I think this isn't about ransom. It's about revenge."

He handed me a tablet, on it were pictures of ten people. All familiar faces. All the people I'd smiled at in passing.

"These are my suspects," he said. 

"But I need you to be the eyes I can't use. They won't talk to me. But you? You're innocent to them. They'll underestimate you."

"Is this even legal?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"No," he said. 

"But neither was stealing my children."

I gripped the tablet, bile rising in my throat. 

"What happens if I find the person?"

He drew closer to me, his voice was cold and sharp.

"Then I make them pay."

I couldn't breathe.

The Nicholas I met when I signed that surrogacy contract was cold, guarded, and controlled.

This Nicholas? He was terrifying in a new way.

Broken, raw and willing to burn the world to get his kids back.

I wanted to scream, I wanted to ask why I had to be part of this, but something deep inside whispered that I'd already crossed the line the moment I gave birth to those babies.

They weren't just Nicholas's anymore.

They were mine too.

And if this was the only way to bring them home, then so be it.

Even if it meant facing my worst fears or the kind of danger I'd only seen in nightmares.

***

That night, I couldn't sleep.

The file tormented me in my mind. 

The faces. 

The bruises. 

The silent screams on paper. 

Nicholas's calm voice telling me about leverage like it was just business.

But mostly, the way he'd looked at me when he said, "You're innocent to them."

I wasn't sure that was true anymore.

I rose before sunrise and walked down the empty hallways. Everything was so quiet that the air felt so suffocating.

Then I heard it - a soft sound. A door creaks shut near the eastern wing.

I stood motionless.

That part of the mansion had been off-limits since the kids went missing.

Nicholas said it was being kept sealed for the investigation.

So who was in there?

I tiptoed forward, careful not to make a sound. My fingers gripped the tablet he'd given me, using it like a mirror to check the hallway around the corner.

A shadow moved, someone tall and broad.

I hid behind the curtain.

They stopped at the corner and then sneaked through a side door to the kids room.

My heart almost stopped.

No one was allowed in there.

I waited, counting the seconds.

One. Two. Three.

The door creaked again.

I rushed out, ready to confront whoever it was, but the hallway was empty.

Gone.

Like a ghost.

I looked down the corridor. I found nothing.

But when I stepped closer to the kid's room door, I noticed it wasn't locked.

My hand shook as I reached for the knob and slowly pushed it open.

Inside, the bedsheets were untouched. The toys were still in place.

But a single envelope sat on the centre bed, the one where Ivy used to sleep.

My knees nearly gave out.

I walked over and opened it with trembling hands.

Inside was a photograph.

The triplets.

Alive.

Sleeping.

And a note written in cut-out letters that screamed horror film:

"Stop digging. Or the next picture won't be so peaceful."

My eyes filled with shock then my fingers went cold.

A sound behind me made me spin, but no one was there.

I pressed the photo to my chest, heart racing.

They'd been here.

Someone had been inside the house again.

Watching.

Mocking.

I wasn't just part of the game anymore.

I was being hunted.

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.