Chapter 3

"Take her out," Marcus ordered his men.

Jax’s thugs dragged me up from the chair, pulling my arms behind my back.

They zipped a heavy plastic zip-tie around my wrists, right over the swollen skin where the boot had crushed me.

The pain was sharp, but I kept counting the seconds. Fourteen minutes.

"Where are we taking her?" Jax asked.

"To the car. We wait for my dad's people."

Marcus threw himself onto the living room sofa, crossing his legs arrogantly. He looked at Chloe. "My dad said we can't leave any loose ends. The girl who used the knife goes to jail for assault. As for your mother..."

He pointed at my mom, who was still shivering on the floor.

"The transfer must be finalized today. If she doesn't cooperate, ship her off to a private asylum."

Chloe nodded eagerly. She knelt down and slapped my mom’s cheek lightly.

"Did you hear that, Mom? An asylum. The kind where they lock the doors from the outside."

"Chloe..." my mom’s voice was barely a whisper. "We raised you for twenty years..."

"And that’s why this estate belongs to me," Chloe said, her voice dripping with entitlement. "Before she came back, I was the only daughter. But the moment she returned, you started talking about leaving the house to her?"

She paused, her eyes flashing with hatred.

"Twenty years of being your perfect daughter, and I get replaced by a piece of trash?"

A sharp car horn echoed from the driveway outside.

A sleek black luxury sedan with government-registered plates pulled up to the gate.

Marcus immediately jumped up and ran to the door.

Eighteen minutes.

I was shoved onto the hardwood floor of the foyer, my face pressed against the cold wood. I could only see a pair of highly polished black leather shoes stepping into the house.

"Dad," Marcus greeted him respectfully.

"Where is she?" a deep, powerful voice demanded.

Richard Sterling.

One of the top three real estate tycoons in Oakhaven, and Marcus's father.

I had seen his face on massive billboards around the city when I went grocery shopping.

He always wore a warm, trustworthy smile next to the slogan: *Building Oakhaven, One Family at a Time.*

Now, his expensive leather shoes stopped just inches from my nose.

"This is her?"

"Yes. She sliced up four of our guards," Marcus said, offering his father a cigar.

Richard didn't take it. He knelt down, staring at my face pinned to the floor.

"Young lady, you’re Serene Vance, right?"

I didn't answer.

"I ran a background check on you. Kidnapped at seven, returned late last year. Your file is completely blank. Your reentry records are classified under a military-level security clearance that even the local police department can't access."

He paused, his eyes narrowing.

"Who the hell are you?"

Twenty-one minutes.

"A piece of trash," I whispered.

Richard stood up, gesturing to one of his assistants.

Moments later, another luxury car pulled up.

This vehicle was even more imposing. The moment Jax’s thugs saw it, they immediately hid their knives behind their backs.

A man in his fifties, wearing a sharp grey suit with perfectly combed hair, stepped inside.

"Mayor Henderson," Richard said, shaking his hand.

I recognized him. His face was posted on every community board in the city under the banner: *A Safer, Cleaner Oakhaven.*

Mayor Henderson glanced at the chaotic living room—the chemical foam, the blood on the floor, the overturned wheelchair, and my mom huddled in the corner.

He frowned deeply.

"Richard, you told me this was a 'minor family dispute.' What is this?"

"Just a little family drama with the stepdaughter," Richard said, lowering his voice. "But the younger girl used a weapon and assaulted my people. She needs to be handled. I checked her background—she spent fifteen years abroad in conflict zones. She might be a radical threat."

*A radical threat.*

Hearing that phrase, Chloe’s eyes lit up with excitement.

"Yes! She’s definitely a terrorist!" Chloe ran forward, pointing at me. "She was gone for fifteen years! Who knows what kind of militant group she joined? You saw how she handled that knife—she’s definitely trained to kill!"

Twenty-four minutes.

Mayor Henderson looked at me, then at Richard, remaining silent for a long moment.

"Take her to the station for questioning first."

Two officers grabbed me by my arms, dragging me toward the door.

My mom tried to crawl forward, dragging her useless legs across the floor.

"It’s not her fault... please..."

"Ma'am, please calm down," Mayor Henderson said, blocking her path. His voice was polite, but his stance was unyielding.

Chloe grabbed my mom’s arm, pulling her back.

"Mom, she’s mentally unstable. Sending her to a facility is for her own good."

Twenty-seven minutes.

They slammed me into the back of a police transport van.

Just before they could shut the metal doors, Mayor Henderson's phone rang.

He glanced at the caller ID, and his face instantly drained of color.

Suddenly, the hurried sound of leather shoes clicking against the pavement approached the van.

The doors were violently yanked open from the outside.

Mayor Henderson stood there, his face paper-white, his lips trembling.

"You..." his voice shook violently as he stared at me. "Are you..."

"Twenty-eight minutes," I said calmly. "Two minutes faster than I expected."

He didn't understand what I meant, but his knees were already buckling.