Chapter 3 - The Secret in the BasementThe heavy bronze lamp missed Victor’s temple by an inch, crashing into the headboard with a hollow, splintering thud that woke Leo with a sharp, terrified wail.
"Maya! Maya!" the little boy sobbed, flailing under the covers, his small arms reaching out blindly.
Maya dropped the lamp, her aggression vanishing instantly as she threw herself across the bed, wrapping her entire body around her brother. "I'm here! I'm here, Leo! Don't look at him! Don't look at him!" She glared at Victor over her brother’s trembling shoulder, her chest heaving like a cornered animal’s. "Do whatever you want to me, but leave him alone! We didn't steal anything! We swear we didn't!"
Victor didn't flinch. He didn't step back. He slowly lowered his right hand, which had automatically risen to block the blow.
"If I wanted to hurt you," Victor said quietly, his voice cutting through Leo's hysterical crying like warm oil, "you wouldn't have woken up in a heated bed with an IV drip in your arm. You would have woken up in an alley."
Maya blinked, her fierce glare faltering slightly as her brain processed the room around her: the silk sheets, the mahogany furniture, the faint, expensive scent of cedar and vanilla.
"Where... where is this?" she whispered, her voice dropping from a screech to a breathless rasp.
"My home," Victor said. He walked over to the nightstand, picked up a glass of water with a bendable straw, and held it out. "Drink. Both of you."
Maya didn't move. She stared at the glass as if it were filled with venom. "Why? What do you want? Nobody helps for free. My mother said... she said every favor has a price tag attached."
"Your mother?" Victor asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"She’s gone," Maya spat out, her chin jutting up defiantly. "She left us at the station three months ago. Said she was going to buy bread and never came back. We've been living in the old laundry room beneath the bridge on 9th Street. Mr. Henderson from the deli gave us scraps until he got sick. Then... then we had to walk."
Victor’s expression didn't change, but deep inside his mind, gears began to turn. A street child from 9th Street. A mother who disappeared. In a city controlled by corporate conglomerates and underground syndicates, people didn't just vanish into thin air. Especially not young mothers with no history of abandonment.
"Listen to me, Maya," Victor said, stepping closer, his presence commanding the entire space. "You are safe here tonight. No one is going to hurt your brother. But tomorrow morning, we are going to have a conversation. Not about charity. About your mother."
Maya’s breath caught in her throat. The defiance drained out of her face, leaving her looking suddenly, terrifyingly young. "You... you know where she is?"
"I know how to find things that are hidden," Victor said softly, turning toward the door. "Get some sleep. The door isn't locked."
As Victor walked down the long corridor back to his study, he pulled out his encrypted satellite phone and dialed a private number.
"Marcus," Victor said when the line connected on the first ring.
"Mr. Hail? It's two in the morning. Is everything—"
"Pull every security camera feed around the 9th Street bridge for the last ninety days. I want every vehicle, every license plate, and every person who entered or left that sector. Especially anyone associated with the Hail Foundation’s urban renewal projects."
May you like
"Sir? The urban renewal sector is controlled by the municipal board. If we dig there, we’re going to step on some very powerful toes—including Senator Vance."
Victor’s eyes flashed in the dark hallway. "Let them step. I want to know who has been dumping children on my streets."
