Sarah sat in her car outside her office building, her hands shaking as she gripped the steering wheel. The kidnapper's words echoed in her mind: No police. Come alone. Three million dollars. How could she possibly raise that kind of money?
Her first instinct was to call the authorities, but the man's threat was clear—any sign of police involvement would mean her mother's death. Despite all of Amanda's flaws, despite the years of criticism and manipulation, she was still her mother.
With trembling fingers, Sarah dialed her grandmother's number. If anyone had that kind of liquid cash available, it would be Lady Eleanor Prescott.
"Sarah," Eleanor's crisp voice answered after two rings. "This is unexpected."
"Grandma, I need your help," Sarah said, her voice cracking. "Someone has kidnapped my mother. They're demanding three million dollars for her release."
There was a long pause on the other end of the line.
"I see," Eleanor said finally, her tone completely indifferent. "Have you contacted the police?"
"I can't!" Sarah exclaimed. "They said they'll kill her if I involve law enforcement. Grandma, please, I need the money. I don't have anywhere else to turn."
"Sarah," Eleanor's voice was cold and final, "I will not be providing any ransom money for Amanda. She is not important to our family, She is uselsss, frankly the only one more useless than her is Aaron. Call the police. That's what they're for."
"You can't be serious," Sarah whispered. "She's my mother."
"I've made my self clear Sarah. I Don't want to hear you call me again about this matter. Handle this yourself."
The line went dead.
Sarah stared at her phone in disbelief. Her own grandmother had just abandoned her mother to die. The woman who claimed family loyalty was everything had just proven that loyalty only flowed one direction.
Her mind raced through her options. The bank would never approve a three-million-dollar loan on such short notice, especially for a ransom payment. Her company's accounts were tied up in the Crimson Valley project. She had some savings, but nowhere near enough.
Then she remembered the houses. The King's Castle and Serenity Villa. Together they were worth sixty million dollars. Surely she could sell one of them quickly if she offered it at a discount.
Forty minutes later, Sarah burst through the doors of Winston Villa Offices. Magen looked up from her desk, her face immediately showing concern when she saw Sarah's distressed state.
"Mrs. Prescott! Are you alright? You look—"
"I need to sell The King's Castle," Sarah interrupted. "Today. As fast as possible."
Megan's eyes widened. "Sell it? But you just purchased it recently. Is there a problem with the property?"
"It's an emergency," Sarah said, her voice tight with barely controlled panic. "I need the money immediately. How quickly can you find a buyer?"
Megan pulled up her computer files, her professional demeanor kicking in despite her obvious concern. "Well, it's possible, but finding a buyer for such an expensive property usually takes time. We'd need to arrange viewings, negotiate terms—"
"There has to be someone," Sarah pressed. "Anyone who's shown interest."
Megan paused, scrolling through her records. "Actually, there was someone who inquired about The King's Castle shortly after you purchased it. I informed him it was already sold, but he seemed very disappointed. He might still be interested."
"Call him," Sarah said immediately. "Now. Whatever his offer is, I'll take it."
"Mrs. Prescott, are you sure? You might be selling at a significant loss—"
"I don't care about the money. I just need it fast."
Megan picked up her phone and dialed. Sarah paced the office, her anxiety mounting with each passing second. Finally, Megan hung up.
"He's very interested," she said. "He can have the funds transferred within twenty-four hours, but he wants to inspect the property first. He's offering twenty-five million."
Sarah's heart sank. Twenty-five million was far less than the house was worth, but it was more than enough for the ransom. "Fine. Set it up."
As Sarah was leaving the office, her phone rang. The same unknown number.
"Time is running out," the cold voice said. "Do you have the money?"
"I'm working on it," Sarah replied. "I need more time—"
"Time costs extra," the man interrupted. "The price is now five million, and it will keep increasing if take any more time. You have until tomorrow, or your mother dies."
The line went dead. Sarah's knees nearly gave out. Five million dollars. She hoped the sale would go through quickly before they increased the price beyond what she currently had.
Meanwhile, six thousand miles away, Aaron and Natalie were exiting a pharmaceutical research facility in Zurich when Natalie's phone rang. She glanced at the screen and frowned.
"Excuse me, sir," she said, stepping away to take the call.
Aaron watched her expression grow increasingly serious as she spoke in hushed, urgent tones. When she returned, her face was grim.
"Sir, we have a situation at home," she said as they got into their waiting car. "Mrs. Turner's mother has been kidnapped."
Aaron's initial reaction was almost relief—at least it wasn't Sarah—but then the full implications hit him. "What happened?"
As their car sped toward the private airstrip, Natalie explained everything: Amanda's kidnapping, the ransom demand, Sarah's desperate attempts to raise the money. Aaron's jaw clenched tighter with each detail.
"How long until we're home?" he asked.
"Eight hours, sir. But I've already activated emergency protocols. Our people are tracking the situation."
The next morning, Megan called Sarah with news. "The sale went through," she said. "Twenty-five million has been transferred to your account."
Sarah rushed to the bank, her heart pounding. The manager was initially reluctant to process such a large cash withdrawal, but Sarah's desperation was convincing. After an hour of paperwork and security procedures, she walked out with five million dollars in unmarked bills packed in two large duffel bags.
Her phone buzzed with a text message containing an address—an abandoned industrial district on the outskirts of the city. Sarah drove there with the money, her hands sweating on the steering wheel.
Two men were waiting in the empty parking lot. They approached her car, and one of them gestured for her to get out. Sarah complied, her legs shaky.
"You Got the cash?" the larger man asked.
"Yes. I have the money."
They patted her down roughly, checking for weapons or recording devices, then inspected the bags of cash. Satisfied, they gestured toward a black SUV.
"Get in."
Sarah hesitated. Once she got in that car, there would be no turning back. But the image of her mother tied up somewhere, scared and helpless, pushed her forward.
The drive took thirty minutes through increasingly desolate areas. Finally, they arrived at what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse. Inside, the space was dimly lit by a few hanging bulbs. Sarah's eyes adjusted, and her heart sank.
Volkov sat behind a makeshift desk, flanked by three armed men. To one side, Amanda sat tied to a chair, her eyes red and swollen from crying. But what made Sarah's blood run cold was seeing Patrick and Jason standing nearby, unable to meet her eyes.
"Sarah Prescott," Volkov said, his voice carrying a slight accent. "Welcome. You brought the money?"
"Yes," Sarah said, gesturing to the men carrying the duffel bags. "Now let my mother go."
One of Volkov's men inspected the cash and nodded. "It's all here, boss."
Volkov smiled, but it was the predatory grin of a shark. "Excellent. But I'm afraid there's been a change of plans."
Sarah's stomach dropped. "What do you mean?"
"Your uncle and cousin made a very interesting deal with me," Volkov continued, standing up slowly. "Not only would they ensure you brought the money, but they would deliver you to me as well. You see, Their debt wasn't just financial—it was personal."
Sarah's eyes widened in horror as the full betrayal hit her. She whirled around to face Patrick and Jason, both of whom were staring at the floor in shame.
"You sold me," she whispered, her voice filled with disbelief. "Your own family."
Patrick finally looked up, his face twisted with guilt and desperation. "Sarah, we didn't have a choice. They were going to kill us. We're family—you'll understand—"
"We're not family," Sarah said coldly. "Family doesn't do this."
Volkov gestured to his men. "Take her."
Two men moved toward Sarah, but suddenly the warehouse doors exploded inward. Armed tactical officers poured through every entrance, their weapons trained on Volkov's men.
"Police! Everyone on the ground! Now!"
Chaos erupted. Three of Volkov's armed men reached for their weapons but were immediately taken down by the tactical team. The remaining men, along with Volkov himself, dropped to their knees with their hands behind their heads.
Patrick, Jason, Amanda, and Sarah were all forced to the ground as well, but none of them were harmed. As the dust settled, Sarah looked around in confusion. How had the police known where to find them?
In the distance, she could hear the sound of helicopter rotors approaching. Whatever was happening, this was far more than a simple police raid. This was a full-scale operation, and someone with serious power had orchestrated it.