PART 6 — THE BABY THEY STOLE FROM ME
“No.”
The word escaped my mouth before I even realized I had spoken.
I stared at the photograph on Noah's phone.
My daughter.
My tiny girl.
Alive.
Sleeping.
But in the arms of someone I didn't recognize.
My hands began to shake.
“Where is she?”
Noah didn't answer.
“Where is my baby?”
“Emma—”
“WHERE IS SHE?”
My voice echoed through the underground room.
My father stepped toward me.
“We'll get her back.”
I turned on him.
“You've been saying that my entire life!”
His face fell.
“You hid me.”
“You lied to me.”
“You let me marry Grant.”
“And now my daughter is gone!”
My father closed his eyes.
“I know.”
“No. You don't.”
Tears blurred my vision.
“You don't know what it feels like to finally hold your child after being terrified for hours…”
My voice broke.
“…and then have someone take her away.”
Noah stepped closer.
“I'll bring her back.”
I looked at him.
“How?”
His answer came immediately.
“Whatever it takes.”
* * *
Grant suddenly spoke.
“I know where they took her.”
Everyone looked at him.
Noah's expression hardened.
“Explain.”
“My father has a private facility outside the city.”
“Where?”
“Near the old shipping yards.”
Noah stared at him.
“How do you know?”
“Because I used to go there.”
My stomach turned.
“What did you do there?”
Grant looked at me.
“I watched people disappear.”
I felt sick.
“You knew?”
“I didn't know they were kidnapping innocent people.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No.”
He looked down.
“I don't expect you to believe anything I say.”
Noah stepped closer.
“Then tell us everything.”
Grant swallowed.
“My father called the place Blackwater.”
My father stiffened.
“You know that name?”
“Yes.”
“What is it?”
My father looked at Noah.
“A prison.”
“For who?”
“For people who know too much.”
Noah's eyes darkened.
“And now Emma's daughter is there.”
Grant nodded.
“Yes.”
* * *
We left the underground room through another exit.
Noah's convoy was already waiting.
I refused to stay behind.
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
I looked at Noah.
“My daughter is there.”
“That's exactly why you stay here.”
“No.”
“Emma.”
“You don't understand.”
“I understand perfectly.”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“You understand how to fight.”
I pointed toward the direction of the hospital.
“But she's my daughter.”
Noah stared at me.
“I won't let you walk into a place where people are willing to kill you.”
“And I won't sit here while my baby cries for me.”
Silence.
Finally, Noah nodded.
“Stay beside me.”
“I will.”
“Don't move unless I tell you.”
“Fine.”
“Trust me.”
That word stopped me.
Trust.
I looked into his eyes.
“I'll try.”
He nodded.
“That's enough.”
* * *
The convoy moved through Seattle under heavy rain.
I sat beside Noah.
My father's vehicle followed.
Grant rode behind us.
For several minutes, nobody spoke.
Then I asked:
“Why are they so interested in my daughter?”
Noah looked ahead.
“Because she inherited something from you.”
“What?”
“The genetic marker.”
“That still doesn't explain why they need her.”
Noah hesitated.
“Because the final account requires two generations.”
I stared at him.
“My father and me?”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“You and your daughter.”
My stomach tightened.
“What is inside that account?”
“Evidence.”
“Evidence of what?”
“The entire organization.”
“And if they access it?”
“They can erase everything.”
“So they need my daughter to open it.”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn't they just take me?”
“Because they can't.”
“Why?”
“Because the system recognizes your biometric identity.”
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“Your blood.”
I stared at him.
“My blood?”
“Yes.”
He paused.
“And your daughter's.”
* * *
The convoy suddenly slowed.
Noah looked toward his security team.
“What happened?”
A voice came through the radio.
“Roadblock ahead.”
“Police?”
“No.”
Noah immediately understood.
“Turn around.”
Too late.
Three black vehicles appeared behind us.
Then another two ahead.
We were surrounded.
Noah's men drew weapons.
I gripped the seat.
“Are we trapped?”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“Not yet.”
A vehicle slammed into the side of ours.
I screamed.
Noah grabbed me before I hit the door.
“Stay down!”
Gunfire erupted.
The windshield shattered.
Noah covered me with his body.
“Emma!”
I heard my father's voice through the radio.
“Get her out!”
Noah opened the rear door.
“Now!”
We ran into the rain.
Bullets struck the pavement behind us.
I couldn't see.
I couldn't breathe.
Noah grabbed my hand.
“Keep moving.”
We reached a warehouse.
The door opened.
Grant was standing inside.
“This way!”
Noah hesitated.
“Why should I trust you?”
“Because I know where the control room is!”
Another explosion shook the building.
Noah looked at me.
“Go.”
We entered.
* * *
Inside, the warehouse was enormous.
Shipping containers filled the space.
My father appeared behind us.
“Where?”
Grant pointed toward the far end.
“There.”
We followed him.
A hidden elevator took us underground.
The doors opened.
A long corridor stretched ahead.
Security cameras followed every movement.
Noah looked at them.
“They know we're here.”
Grant nodded.
“Yes.”
“Then why are they letting us walk inside?”
Grant didn't answer.
I stopped.
“It's a trap.”
Everyone turned.
“What?”
“They want me here.”
Noah's expression changed.
“You're right.”
The lights suddenly came on.
A voice echoed through the speakers.
“Excellent.”
I froze.
Grant whispered:
“My father.”
The voice laughed.
“Hello, Emma.”
I looked at the camera.
“Give me my daughter.”
“Of course.”
A screen appeared.
My baby was lying inside a small medical bassinet.
She was crying.
My heart broke.
“Please…”
Noah grabbed my shoulder.
“Don't.”
The voice continued.
“Come to the final room.”
“What happens then?”
“You get your daughter.”
“And if I refuse?”
A pause.
“You know the answer.”
I looked at Noah.
“I have to go.”
“No.”
“They'll hurt her.”
“They want you frightened.”
“They have my baby.”
Noah looked at the screen.
Then back at me.
“I'll get her.”
The voice laughed.
“Noah Whitaker.”
The entire corridor went silent.
“You still think you can save everyone.”
Noah's expression became cold.
“I don't need to save everyone.”
He stepped forward.
“Only her.”
The voice answered:
“Then come.”
A door opened at the end of the corridor.
Noah looked at me.
“Stay behind me.”
We walked forward.
Inside the final room stood an elderly man.
Gray hair.
Expensive suit.
Cold eyes.
Grant stopped.
“Dad.”
The man smiled.
“Son.”
Then he looked at me.
“Emma.”
I stared at him.
“Where is my daughter?”
He pointed toward the glass room behind him.
“She is safe.”
I saw her.
My baby.
Alive.
Crying.
I took a step forward.
The man raised one finger.
“Not yet.”
“What do you want?”
“Your cooperation.”
“For what?”
He smiled.
“The account.”
“No.”
“Then your daughter stays here.”
Noah stepped forward.
The man laughed.
“You still don't understand.”
He pressed a button.
The glass room darkened.
Then another screen appeared.
A live video.
My father.
Bound to a chair.
My breath stopped.
“Dad!”
The man smiled.
“You have two choices.”
He looked at me.
“Your father…”
Then at my baby.
“…or your daughter.”
I stared at both screens.
My father shook his head.
“Don't choose me.”
I cried.
“Dad…”
He whispered:
“Save her.”
Then the man leaned toward the microphone.
“Choose.”
I looked at Noah.
He shook his head slightly.
As if telling me not to answer.
But then I noticed something.
A tiny red light blinking beneath the control panel.
Three times.
Pause.
Three times.
Pause.
I recognized the pattern.
It was Morse code.
Someone was sending a message.
TRUST NOAH.
My heart pounded.
I looked at Noah.
He saw it too.
And suddenly, he smiled.
Not at the enemy.
At me.
Because we both understood.
The kidnapping wasn't the real trap.
The real trap was for the man who thought he had already won.
TO BE CONTINUED…
