Part 4 — My Daughter Was Fighting for Her Life in the Hospital When an Unknown Woman Handed Me Money — Then My Husband’s Voice Was Heard

I called the unknown number again, but on the other end I found only a short, deafening silence.

Then a message arrived.

“Port Seven. By four in the morning. Come alone.”

Marcus looked at the screen.

“You will not go alone.”

“I was not planning to go either,” I told him. “I am going to my daughter first.”

Simon stood in the same corridor. The police officers were already around him, although he was still trying to give orders.

“Victoria, wait. We can solve this.”

“We have nothing left to solve.”

“I was only trying to protect Vermilion.”

“You drove an arrow into my daughter’s heart in the name of protection.”

He could not find an answer.

Elena was crying. Chloe stood by the wall and looked down at her own hands. At the fingers that had drawn the bowstring tight.

The police officer put handcuffs on Chloe.

“I did not know it would really hit,” she whispered. “Dad told me everything would be fixed.”

“You had a choice too,” I told her.

I did not say this with hatred.

For the first time, I was simply no longer trying to carry responsibility in her place.

Simon’s lawyer arrived twenty minutes later. Water dripped onto the floor from his black umbrella and left marks from his expensive shoes.

“My client will not make any statement yet,” he said.

“Then he will listen,” I replied.

Marcus turned on the recorder.

Simon’s own voice rang through the corridor.

“If I kill her, everything will remain an accident.”

Simon’s face twisted.

“This recording was obtained illegally.”

“The court will decide that,” I said.

“You do not know whom you are fighting.”

“I do. A man who had turned my trust into a weapon.”

The lawyer listened to the recording to the end. Then he looked at Simon and slowly shook his head.

“I no longer represent you in this case.”

“What are you saying?”

“You told me this was only a financial dispute. Here there is an attempted intentional murder of a child.”

Simon lost control for the first time.

“I will double your money!”

“You cannot pay money to a person who does not want to lose his freedom.”

The lawyer picked up his bag and left.

Two hours remained until morning.

I entered Isabella’s hospital room. The machines hummed quietly. A white bandage covered her chest, while the same silver bracelet was still visible on her left wrist. The small silver star in the middle was slightly scratched because she had fallen off a bicycle when she was ten.

I touched her fingers.

“Mother is here,” I said.

Her eyelids did not move.

“This time I am not going anywhere.”

At Port Seven Marcus had hidden vehicles in advance. I took only four people there. Fog clung to the water, while the cranes’ chains rattled against one another in the wind.

One light flickered in an abandoned warehouse.

Inside I found an old man. He held a small iron box in his hands.

“Are you Victoria?” he asked.

“Who sent you?”

“Your past.”

He opened the box. Inside were documents from three years ago, satellite photographs, and one video recording. In the recording Simon was transferring Vermilion’s money to a foreign group.

“For whom was he selling this network?” I asked.

“To whoever would pay more. But he could not find the main buyer. That is why he used your daughter as leverage.”

The old man handed me another document.

It said that Simon had transferred money from Vermilion’s accounts the day before Isabella’s attack. The money had been deposited in Elena’s name.

All the answers lay in one small box.

I looked at the papers and, for the first time, felt no relief. Only emptiness came over me.

For three years I had fought in other people’s wars, while the door of my home was being locked from the inside.

In the morning Simon was officially charged. Chloe was transferred to a juvenile detention center, and Elena’s participation in the conspiracy was proven. In court I did not shout even once.

Simon tried to catch my gaze.

“If you leave me, everything will collapse.”

“It has already collapsed.”

“I loved you.”

“Perhaps. But love that uses a child’s life as a price is no longer love.”

Several weeks later Isabella opened her eyes.

A thin strip of sunlight fell onto the floor in her room. I had been sleeping in a chair, holding her bracelet in my hand.

“Mom?” she asked quietly.

I raised my head.

“I am here.”

“Where is Dad?”

I had expected this question, but it was still difficult for me.

“He will answer for his actions.”

Isabella looked at me for a long time.

“Will you leave again?”

Something broke inside my heart.

“No. Now I am staying with you.”

Three months passed. A temporary council took over the management of Vermilion, and I canceled all illegal contracts. I turned the old warehouses into shelters for children whose parents had disappeared because of criminal networks.

In the mornings I took Isabella to school. She still walked slowly, but every week she stood on her feet for longer. In her room she had put up a new drawing—three people on a shore, and behind them a large yellow sun.

“Is this us?” I asked.

“You and me,” she answered. “The third person is my future.”

The city changed. Or perhaps I changed. I no longer needed to lock every door, search for danger in every voice, or put a weapon under my pillow at night.

When the first snow came, Isabella opened the window. Cold air entered and fluttered the papers around the room.

That evening I received Simon’s last message.

“Listen to me. When I get out, we will start everything over. You and I will be a family again.”

I looked at the screen for a long time.

Then I wrote:

“Family is where a child is protected from danger. You left that place yourself.”

And I blocked the number.

Isabella came to stand beside me. She was wearing the silver bracelet on her wrist. The small star was still scratched, but it still shone in the sunlight.

“Mom, look, snow is falling.”

I stood by the window and took her hand.

This time I was no longer returning home.

I became the home itself.