CHAPTER 4 — "The Bullet Was Never Meant for the Billionaire"
Emergency lights flooded the hallway with flashes of red.
Patients screamed.
Doctors ducked behind walls.
Security agents instantly surrounded Edward.
"Protect Mr. Ashcroft!"
Another gunshot rang out.
Glass exploded across the corridor.
One of Edward's bodyguards spotted a masked figure disappearing into the stairwell.
"After him!"
Three guards sprinted away.
Edward ignored every warning.
His eyes searched for only one person.
Dr. Richard Lawson.
The surgeon lay on the floor.
Blood spread beneath his white coat.
Edward dropped to one knee.
"Stay with me!"
Lawson grabbed Edward's wrist with surprising strength.
"They know..."
"...you found the boy."
"Cameras..."
"They're everywhere..."
His breathing became shallow.
Edward leaned closer.
"Who are they?"
Lawson struggled to speak.
"For twenty-two years..."
"I've lived with this guilt."
"I helped hide Amelia."
"I thought I was saving her."
"But I was only helping the wrong people."
Edward froze.
"You knew where she was?"
Lawson nodded weakly.
"They threatened my family."
"They said if I talked..."
"...my children would disappear."
Tears rolled down the doctor's face.
"I've regretted it every day."
Edward's voice trembled with anger.
"Who gave the order?"
Lawson reached inside his coat.
His hand shook violently as he pulled out a small silver key attached to a faded keychain.
He pressed it into Edward's palm.
"Locker... 317..."
"Central Train Station..."
"Everything is inside."
"The truth..."
"The letters..."
"The DNA report..."
Edward's eyes widened.
"DNA?"
Lawson managed a faint nod.
"The boy..."
"...isn't the mystery."
"The real mystery..."
"...is why everyone wanted you to believe he wasn't yours."
Edward felt the world tilt beneath him.
Before he could ask another question...
The heart monitor beside Lawson emitted one long, continuous tone.
The doctor was gone.
A heavy silence filled the corridor.
Edward slowly stood.
His hand closed around the silver key.
At that exact moment, his phone vibrated.
A private number.
He answered.
A distorted voice spoke only one sentence.
"If you open Locker 317..."
"...the boy dies before sunrise."
Then the line went dead.
Edward looked through the hospital window toward the sleeping city.
For the first time in his life, money couldn't solve the problem before him.
Someone had declared war.
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And the next move would decide whether he lost the woman he loved...
...or the child who might be his own son.
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