Chapter 3

I didn't dare think further.

This mom in the house was definitely fake. So where was my real mother?

Had they hidden her, or had she already been killed?

Mom was so smart. She couldn't have left nothing behind.

I closed my eyes, desperately trying to remember.

Growing up, Mom and I had shared many things no one else knew about.

Some moments only she and I knew.

If she really wanted to leave a clue, she would put it somewhere only I could find.

My eyes shot open.

As a child, I had a tin box where I kept my collection of stickers and marbles.

Once, Mom joked that if she ever needed to leave me a secret, she'd put it in that box.

Because Dad would never bother going through my junk.

I quietly went up to the attic and pulled the tin box from the back of the storage shelf.

Inside were the marbles I'd played with as a child, along with an additional note.

It contained only a string of numbers—an unfamiliar phone number.

I dialed the number.

"Hello, I'm Millia. Do you know Chloe?"

Silence on the other end for a second.

"I'm Attorney Lehman. Ms. Chloe previously commissioned me to draft a will. She planned to leave all her assets to you."

"However... she didn't show up on the appointed day."

"When was the appointment?"

"April 2nd in the afternoon. Ms. Chloe said she needed to go to the hospital in the morning, so she could only schedule the afternoon."

Hospital. My head buzzed.

"Was she sick?"

"Ms. Chloe didn't specify the reason. She only mentioned needing to get a checkup."

"Which hospital?"

"I'm sorry, that's Ms. Chloe's private matter. I don't know."

He hung up. I gripped my phone, blood rushing backward through my body.

I opened my phone and quickly searched for "hospital."

There were three hospitals near our house: First Hospital, Howard Hospital, and the Maternal and Child Health Center.

I called all three hospitals.

But only one responded—that Ms. Chloe had not visited the hospital on April 2nd.

I sat on the floor, my mind racing.

April 1st: photographed roses, sent a distress signal.

Then scheduled an appointment with a lawyer to draft a will.

April 2nd morning: planned to go to the hospital for a checkup but didn't go—or perhaps Mom never intended to go to the hospital and it was just an excuse.

April 2nd afternoon: planned to go to the law office for asset certification, but didn't go.

April 2nd evening: planned to fly to Germany to find me, also didn't go. But the ticket was booked, meaning Mom definitely intended to go.

So something must have happened between the afternoon of April 1st and the morning of April 2nd!

What happened in those less than twenty-four hours?

As I pondered this, I caught sight of a figure at the attic entrance.

I whipped my head around.

Dad stood there, leaning against the doorframe, watching me quietly.

His eyes were calm, as if he'd been watching me for a long time.

"Who were you calling?"

He smiled faintly at me, like a leopard that had locked onto its prey.

My back was already drenched in cold sweat.