"Rosey, my sweetheart… Mama's going to be a little late today. Can you wait in front of the school for me?" Giselle's voice drifted faintly from the other end of the line. Her tone was gentle, filled with a mother's love, though tinged with a rush of anxiety from work matters she couldn't escape.
"Okay, Ma! Drive safely, don't rush. Love you, Ma!" replied Dyana Rosey cheerfully, swinging her school bag heavy with books. At only fifteen, she was still an innocent teenager, her youthful face often brightened by a sweet smile.
"Love you too, my baby," Giselle said softly before ending the call.
Dyana sat on the bench near the bus stop just outside the school gate. The afternoon was quiet; only a few students remained, already collected by their parents. A gentle breeze stirred, teasing strands of her loose hair. Calmly, she slipped on her headphones, letting her favorite song fill the silence around her. The world seemed peaceful safe, even.
But in the blink of an eye, that peace turned into a nightmare.
From the end of the road, a black van rolled slowly into view, its movement unnervingly suspicious. The scrape of its tires against the asphalt caught Dyana's attention, making her glance sideways. Her chest tightened with an uneasy thump.
The van stopped directly in front of her. The side door slammed open, and out stepped a burly man, stocky and broad-shouldered, his face twisted into a menacing scowl. His strides were heavy but fast. Before Dyana Rosey could rise or even attempt to run, his rough hand clamped onto her arm.
"Eh! Let me go!" Dyana Rosey cried out, but her voice was cut short. The man yanked her powerfully toward the van, as though she were nothing more than a helpless doll.
She froze, eyes wide in terror. Before she could scream again, a coarse cloth smothered her mouth and nose. A sharp, acrid stench invaded her senses, choking and nauseating her. Dyana thrashed, her legs kicking wildly, her hands clawing at the air but her strength ebbed with every breath.
What is this? What's happening? Help! Mama… her mind screamed silently. The world around her blurred, her vision fragmenting into shadows. The music from her headphones grew faint, fading into nothingness before darkness consumed her entirely.
***
Giselle parked her car in front of the school gate. Her eyes darted everywhere, searching for her daughter's figure. Her hand quickly reached for the phone, dialing Dyana Rosey's number again and again. But the ringing went unanswered.
"Where could Rosey be…" she whispered, her anxious voice echoing in her heart. She stood beside the car, her gaze fixed on the school gate, as if waiting for the sweet face of her daughter to appear at any moment. But minute after minute passed, and Dyana never showed up.
Giselle's heartbeat quickened. With trembling hands, she pressed her husband's number.
"Darling… is Rosey at the office with you?" she asked, her voice laced with hope. Her heart tried to reason maybe Dyana had gone straight to Michael's office since she was late picking her up.
"No… I haven't heard anything. Why, what's wrong?" Michael's voice came through, calm yet clearly filled with worry.
Giselle inhaled deeply, struggling to contain the rising panic. "I was a little late… had a meeting. When I arrived, Rosey wasn't at the school. I've asked her friends, but they all said they didn't see her either. I'm worried, Michael…"
There was silence on the other end before her husband spoke again.
"Alright, don't panic just yet. Try calling her again, and I'll try to reach her too. We'll find her together."
But those words did little to calm Giselle's racing heart. All she could picture was Dyana Rosey's face her usually cheerful daughter, now nowhere to be found.
Moments later, Michael's phone rang on his desk. The ringtone, usually ordinary, now pierced his ears. His eyes froze on the screen an unknown number. His brow furrowed. Something in his gut told him this was no ordinary call.
With a slightly trembling hand, he pressed the green button.
"Hello?"
Silence at first only the sound of heavy breathing. Then a deep, gravelly voice echoed, cold and full of menace.
"If you want your daughter to stay alive… prepare one hundred thousand dollars."
Michael's heart nearly stopped. His breath caught in his throat. He gripped the phone tightly, fighting back the storm of anger and panic inside him.
"Who are you?!" he barked, his voice thundering through the office. "What proof do you have that you've got my daughter, huh? Don't play games with me!"
He knew the business world he was in was never free of enemies. Many were waiting for a chance to bring him down, to destroy his reputation, even if it meant targeting his family. But this time… his daughter? Dyana?
"Fine…" the voice replied curtly, stabbing his soul with a chilling calm. Then, without another word, the line went dead.
"Hello? Hello! What?! Don't you dare hang up on me!" Michael roared, stabbing at the buttons, trying to reconnect. But it was useless. Only the flat tone of a dead line buzzed in his ear.
Michael slumped into his chair, his chest heaving. His hand clutched the phone as if he could crush it. His face turned pale, beads of cold sweat forming on his forehead.
"Oh God… please let this not be real…" he whispered, his voice shaking. Though part of him wanted to believe it was just a cruel prank, his father's instinct screamed otherwise. Rosey was truly in danger.
Michael stared at the phone still clutched in his hand. His breathing came in ragged gasps. His mind battled between dismissing the call as a bluff or accepting it as a real threat to Dyana Rosey's life.
Without hesitation, he dialed his wife's number. The line connected almost instantly.
"Michael… what's wrong? I'm still at the school. Rosey hasn't shown up!" Giselle's voice rang out, panicked and broken.
Michael closed his eyes for a moment, forcing his chest to steady. "Giselle, listen carefully. I just got a call from an unknown number. They… they said they have Rosey. They're demanding ransom. One hundred thousand dollars."
Giselle went silent. The noise of traffic along Canada's busy streets only heightened the tension. Then her voice cracked, sobs breaking free.
"What? Oh my God, Michael! No, no… don't say that… Rosey… our daughter"
"I know, darling. I want to believe it's just a prank too. But the voice… it felt too real. We can't take any chances. You need to stay strong. I'll make sure we get Rosey back."
Giselle wept openly, unable to hold back. People around the school gate turned their heads, but she didn't care. Her heart was consumed by fear.
Michael quickly dialed emergency services. After a few rings, the calm voice of a Canada Metropolitan Police operator answered.
"Metropolitan Police Service, what's your emergency?"
Michael responded immediately, his voice firm though trembling.
"This is Michael. My daughter, Dyana Rosey… she's missing. I just received a ransom call one hundred thousand dollars. I believe she's been kidnapped."
"Sir, stay calm. We're dispatching a unit to your location. Do not attempt to engage with the caller on your own. Can you confirm your current address?"
Michael gave his office address at Bennett Road. "Please… you must find my daughter."
"Understood, sir. Keep your phone on. We'll be with you shortly."
The line ended. Michael collapsed back into his chair, his eyes falling on the family photo on his desk Giselle and Dyana Rosey smiling by the River Thames last year. His eyes burned with tears, but he clenched his fist tightly.
In that moment, Michael knew his life had changed forever. This was no longer about business. This was about the life of his only child.
Outside, the skies over Canada began to darken, as if mourning the disaster that had just begun.
***
Giselle closed her phone with trembling hands. Her breaths came uneven, her chest tightening with panic. Without wasting a second, she rushed toward the car parked near the school.
The car key almost slipped from her fingers, her hands shaking uncontrollably. "Please… please, let nothing happen to Rosey…" she whispered over and over as she unlocked the door.
The engine roared to life, its sound thundering in her ears. With one long breath, Giselle pressed down on the accelerator, leaving the school grounds behind.
The streets of Canada usually so beautiful—now felt strange, suffocating. The blaring of car horns, the changing traffic lights, the crowd of pedestrians… all blurred into shadows. She had only one destination in her mind: Michael's office.
Her grip on the steering wheel was so tight her knuckles turned white. Tears blurred her vision, and though she wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand, the ache in her chest refused to ease.
Her thoughts raced. Dyana Rosey's face, her smile that very morning as she stepped out of the car, kept flashing before her eyes. Rosey, sweetheart… hold on. Mama is coming for you.
The car sped forward, overtaking vehicles recklessly. She knew she was driving too fast, but fear had already thrown all traffic rules aside.
When the sign for Bennett Road appeared ahead, Giselle drew a shaky breath, trying to calm herself. Yet her heart still pounded violently. She knew every passing second could decide her daughter's fate.
As soon as she entered the office grounds, she parked roughly, tires screeching before coming to a halt. Without another thought, Giselle jumped out and ran straight for the tall building where Michael was waiting.
"Mrs. Giselle?" the security guard greeted, his brows furrowed at her frantic appearance.
"Where's Michael? Is he upstairs?" Giselle's voice cracked, trembling.
"Y-yes, he's in his office," the guard stammered, but she didn't wait. She slammed the elevator button and stepped inside, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
When the elevator doors slid open on Michael's floor, she rushed out. From a distance, she already saw him standing outside his office door, pale, phone still clutched in his hand.
"Michael!" Giselle cried, running straight into his arms.
Mr. Michael caught her, holding her tightly, as though that embrace was the only thing keeping him from collapsing.
"Giselle… the police are on their way. We have to be strong. We will get Rosey back."
But in their eyes, the same terror was reflected the fear they had always dreaded was now real.
***
Dyana Rosey's eyelids fluttered open slowly. Her vision was blurry at first, but little by little, shafts of sunlight cutting through broken window panes stabbed at her eyes. She glanced around a decayed, dusty room, its cracked walls bearing the scars of time. A foul, musty smell filled the air.
That was when it hit her. Her hands were tied tightly behind the chair, her legs bound with coarse rope. Panic surged. Dyana Rosey thrashed violently, trying to free herself, but the ropes only dug deeper into her skin, leaving them raw and burning.
"Help! Somebody please! Let me go!" she screamed, her voice echoing off the grimy walls. Silence answered her cries. No footsteps, no rescue. Her tears spilled freely, cascading down her cheeks. Terror clawed at her chest.
Suddenly, the squeal of rusty hinges tore through the air. Creeeeak. The old wooden door swung open. Two large men stepped inside, their looming shadows stretching across the dusty floor, suffocating her with dread.
"Let me go! What did I do wrong?!" Dyana Rosey screamed again, her body shaking violently, but the ropes held her captive. Anger and despair clashed in her chest.
The first man a burly figure in a wrinkled shirt, with a thick mustache stepped forward. A cruel smile curved his lips.
"Don't worry, sweetheart. Once I get the money I want, I'll let you go. Relax. I know your daddy will pay up."
His voice was calm, but to Dyana Rosey, it was sharper than a knife.
Beside him, the second man taller, with a hardened face and eyes gleaming with malice snickered. "We're about to get rich, bro. Just imagine one hundred grand. Big boss's daughter? No doubt he'll pay."
Both men laughed, their sinister laughter echoing in the desolate room, drowning out Dyana Rosey's sobs. Her body shook with every tear, her soul screaming for salvation. God… please save me. Don't let me die here.
And in that rotten, forgotten place, Dyana Rosey's cries for help blended with the merciless laughter of her captors men who celebrated their fortune at the expense of her fear.