At midnight, the hospital called. My daughter had been dumped at the ER, be:aten nearly to de:ath by an elite group of “untouchable” heirs she went to college with. Their parents sent me a check for a million dollars to “stay quiet.”

“Mom, I’m nineteen,” Lily sighed playfully. “I’ll be fine. What’s the worst that could happen at a billionaire’s mansion? They’ve got more security than the White House.”

“I know… I love you.”

“Love you too. See you tomorrow.”

The call ended. I stared at my reflection in the rain-streaked glass window. A tired woman in her forties looked back at me—an apron dusted with pollen, hands worn from work. But for a flicker of a second, another version surfaced: a hardened figure in tactical gear, eyes sharp, standing in a dim room halfway across the world. I blinked, forcing the memory down into the locked corners of my mind—places my daughter would never be allowed to see.

I cleaned up the fallen thorns, focusing on inventory. Midnight came and went, the old clock echoing through the empty shop. Just as I wiped the counter, my phone rang.

Unknown number.

“Hello?” I answered, unease tightening in my chest.

“Is this Emma Hayes?” a frantic voice asked. Sirens and shouting filled the background. “This is Mercy General Hospital. We have an unidentified young woman—critical condition. Your business card was found in her coat.”