Chapter 1 - “Where the Hell Is My Daughter?”
The front door opened so hard it struck the wall.
Colonel Jack Hayes came through it in full Army dress uniform, gray hair still perfectly cut, medals aligned across his chest, fury destroying every trace of ceremony in his face.
Ryan Miller stepped into the narrow entry hall.
“Jack, you need to calm—”
Jack punched him.
One fast strike across the jaw.
Ryan staggered backward into the cream wall, stunned but conscious.
No second punch came.
Jack was already moving.
“WHERE THE HELL IS MY DAUGHTER?”
He passed Ryan without waiting for an answer and headed straight toward the private bedroom at the end of the guesthouse.
“Jack!”
Ryan followed.
Jack pushed open the bedroom door.
Grace was in the bed.
Pale cream sleepwear.
A beige blanket pulled almost to her chin.
Dark hair loose around her face.
She flinched when the door moved.
Then she saw him.
“Dad…”
Her voice broke.
Jack crossed the room instantly.
Whatever rage had been driving him disappeared from his face and became something worse.
Fear.
He sat beside her.
“Grace.”
She began crying.
Ryan entered behind him, one hand against his jaw.
Then Diane Miller appeared in the doorway.
Dark emerald blouse.
Cold expression.
No panic.
No concern.
Only irritation that the situation had finally escaped her control.
Jack looked from Grace to Ryan.
“What happened?”
Diane answered before either of them.
“SHE GOT WHAT SHE DESERVED. SHE SHOULD’VE KEPT HER DAMN MOUTH SHUT.”
Jack slowly turned his head.
Grace closed her eyes.
Jack looked back at his daughter.
“Can I see?”
Grace hesitated.
Then nodded.
He lifted the edge of the blanket carefully.
Several dark bruises marked her abdomen and upper thighs.
Not open wounds.
No blood.
Still unmistakable.
Jack stopped breathing for a second.
His hand went completely still.
Grace whispered, “Dad…”
He lowered the blanket.
Then stood.
Very slowly.
Controlled rage now.
He stepped into the hallway.
Ryan watched him nervously.
“Jack, listen to me. It isn’t what you think.”
Then a phone began ringing.
Not Ryan’s.
Not Diane’s.
A black phone somewhere nearby.
Ryan’s face changed instantly.
He went pale.
Diane’s eyes widened.
“WHO THE HELL IS CALLING HER?!”
A hand appeared through the partially open side window beside the bedroom.
It held a small black phone.
Still ringing.
Ryan stared at it.
Diane took one involuntary step backward.
Grace recoiled beneath the blanket.
Jack reached toward the window and took the phone from the unseen hand.
On the screen was a name he recognized.
Rachel Kim.
Grace’s attorney.
Jack looked at his daughter.
Then at Ryan.
Then Diane.
And for the first time since entering the guesthouse, he understood that the bruises were not the only thing somebody had been trying to hide.
He returned to Grace’s bedside and sat firmly beside her.
Ryan remained frozen near the doorway.
Jack held the ringing phone in one hand.
His voice went cold.
“Now you’re gonna tell me everything.”
May you like
And Ryan could not look at Grace.
---
