I smiled silently, eyes locked on Daniel.
“Court. Tomorrow. I’ll be waiting. Don’t be late.”
Seeing that I was determined, Daniel’s face turned ashen.
The next morning, as I drove toward the court, I was caught in a chain-reaction crash. While waiting on the roadside, I received a terrifying phone call:
“Hello, is this Sophia Evans? Your daughter is in my hands. If you know what’s good for you, come to the abandoned warehouse in New Jersey right now. Otherwise, prepare to collect her corpse!”
“Mommy, help me!” My daughter’s voice jolted me back to reality.
“Don’t hurt her! I’m coming right away…”
In panic, I turned the wheel the wrong way, and another car slammed into me.
When I woke again, I was staring at the blindingly white ceiling of New York General Hospital, the sharp smell of antiseptic filling my nose.
I looked at myself in shock—still alive, but my legs were wrapped in plaster and bandages, throbbing with unbearable pain. I had been in a terrible accident.
Then I remembered—Emma was still in danger. I scrambled to find my phone to call Daniel.
But instead, from the room next door, I heard my daughter’s voice.