The cry wasn’t coming from a nursery.
It was echoing from a hidden ventilation grille behind the rusted bed.
I grabbed an iron pry bar from the floor and smashed the concrete wall.
Once. Twice.
The plaster crumbled, revealing a heavy steel door.
I kicked it open.
The air inside was freezing. Blue-gray light filtered through a tiny grated window near the ceiling.
And in the center of the room… stood a massive iron cage.
My heart stopped.
The baby’s cry was just a recording playing from a cheap speaker. A sick psychological game.
But the woman inside the cage was very real.
I rushed forward and dropped to my knees, grabbing the thick iron bars.
Grace.
She was covered in bruises. Barefoot. Wearing a filthy, torn slip.
And she was still pregnant—gasping, clutching her swollen stomach, gripped by the first spasms of labor.
“Dad,” she sobbed, her bloody fingers desperately gripping my hands. “He locked me here.”
A single tear slipped down my cheek.
The crushing sorrow lasted only a second.
Then, it evaporated—igniting into pure, unadulterated hellfire.
I stood up slowly and turned.
Luca stood in the doorway, hands elegantly folded over his expensive black suit, perfectly calm. Two massive, armed bodyguards flanked him.
“You imprisoned my daughter,” I snarled, my voice vibrating with rage.
Luca’s expression remained dead. “She’s just a vessel. The Rossi syndicate takes what it wants. You’re just a retired civilian. What exactly are you going to do?”
I stared at him. Cold. Unblinking.
“You did a background check on my wealth, Luca.”
I took a step forward.
“But you never checked how I built it.”
I snapped my fingers.
In perfect unison, Luca’s two massive guards drew their weapons.
But they didn’t aim at me.
They pressed the barrels directly against the back of Luca’s skull.
Luca’s arrogant smile vanished. The color drained from his face as he froze.
“I left the underworld twenty years ago to raise her,” I whispered, watching his knees begin to tremble. “But a King never really loses his army.”
I turned my back on the terrified boy and looked at my daughter.
Through her tears, a fierce, burning hope reignited in her eyes.
“Hold on, sweetheart,” I said, my voice steady as stone.
“You’re going home.”