Isla's POV
"Mama! Mama, wake up!"
Ethan's voice pulls me from sleep, and I shoot up in the hotel bed, my heart hammering. For a second, I forget where I am. Then reality crashes down—I'm three hundred miles away from my son, and someone tried to kidnap him five hours ago.
"I'm here, baby. I'm here." I grab my phone from the nightstand with shaking hands. The video call connects, and Ethan's face fills the screen. His dark hair is messy from sleep, and his silver-gray eyes—Dominic's eyes—are wide with fear.
"I had a bad dream," he whispers. "The scary man was chasing me again."
My chest tightens. Lily appears behind him, her face exhausted. "He's been having nightmares since the park incident. Isla, when are you coming home?"
"First flight tomorrow morning. I promise." I force a smile for Ethan. "Tell me about your dream, sweetheart."
"The man said he knew my daddy." Ethan's small voice breaks my heart. "He said my daddy sent him to take me away from you."
Ice floods my veins. "What?"
Lily's eyes meet mine through the screen, full of warning. "Ethan, honey, go get your stuffed dragon. Show Mama the new trick you taught him."
The moment Ethan runs off, Lily leans close to the camera. "The kidnapper kept saying something weird before the police took him. He said, 'The father has the right to claim what's his.' Isla, how would anyone know about Dominic?"
"I don't know." My mind spins. "I've kept Ethan's father a secret for six years. You're the only person who knows the truth."
"Not anymore." Lily's expression is grim. "Someone at that summit knows. Someone who wants to use Ethan for something."
I think about Dominic's face tonight—the shock, the confusion, the way he asked about the baby. He didn't know. I'm certain he didn't know about Ethan until I mentioned the pregnancy.
So who else knows? And why do they want my son?
"Get some sleep," I tell Lily, though I know neither of us will. "I'll be home before you know it."
After we hang up, I sit in the dark hotel room, hugging my knees to my chest. Sleep is impossible. Every time I close my eyes, I see that night six years ago—the night that changed everything.
Six years ago...
"Come on, Isla! You never have fun. Just one party!"
I stared at my step-sister Vivienne, who was practically bouncing with excitement. We were in my tiny office at Chen Industries, where I'd been working late on design drafts for our new product line.
"I have work to finish, Viv. You go ahead."
"You're always working!" Vivienne grabbed my hands, her perfectly manicured nails digging in slightly. "Dad's worried you're becoming a boring old lady at twenty-two. This is a networking event—important people will be there. Don't you want to help the company?"
The guilt worked like it always did. My father had been stressed about the business lately. If networking could help...
"Fine. One hour."
Vivienne's smile looked like victory.
The party was at the Grand Meridian Hotel—all glittering lights and expensive people. I felt out of place in my simple work dress while everyone else wore designer clothes. Vivienne stuck to my side, introducing me to people whose names I immediately forgot.
"You look so tense!" She pressed a champagne glass into my hand. "Here, I got this for you. Relax a little."
The drink tasted slightly bitter, but I was thirsty and nervous, so I drank it anyway. Big mistake. The biggest mistake of my life.
Within minutes, the room started spinning. Faces blurred together. Sounds became muffled, like I was underwater.
"Viv?" I grabbed her arm. "Something's wrong. I don't feel good."
"Oh no! You must be tired from working so hard." Her voice sounded far away. "Come on, let's get you somewhere quiet to rest."
She guided me through hallways that seemed to stretch forever. I remember a door opening. A hotel room. Vivienne's hands pushing me inside.
"Rest here. I'll come back for you."
Then she was gone, and I was alone in a strange room, my body not obeying my commands. I tried to call for help, but my tongue felt thick and clumsy.
The door opened again. A man's shape, tall and broad-shouldered.
"Who...?" I tried to focus, but my vision kept swimming.
"You're in my room." His voice was deep, confused. He sounded as disoriented as I felt. "How did you...?"
He stumbled, catching himself on the wall. Something was wrong with him too. His words slurred slightly, his movements uncoordinated.
"I need... I need to leave..." I tried to stand but my legs wouldn't work.
"Wait, don't—" He reached for me as I swayed, and we both fell.
After that, everything went black. I have fractured memories—hands that might have been gentle or might have been a dream, warmth, confusion, fear. But mostly just darkness.
I woke up to sunlight stabbing through expensive curtains. My head pounded like someone was using it as a drum. My body ached in unfamiliar ways.
And beside me, in the massive hotel bed, was a stranger.
No, not a stranger. As my eyes adjusted, I recognized him from business magazines and news articles. Dominic Ashford. The youngest self-made billionaire in the city. The ruthless CEO everyone whispered about.
And I was in his bed. Naked.
Terror slammed into me. What happened? How did I get here? Why couldn't I remember?
I grabbed the sheet, scrambling out of bed, and the movement woke him. Those silver-gray eyes opened, confused at first, then sharp with awareness.
"Who are you?" His voice was cold, suspicious. "How did you get in here?"
"I—I don't know. I was at a party and my sister gave me a drink and then—" Panic made my words tumble out fast and messy. "I don't remember. I don't remember anything!"
He sat up, and I could see him calculating, analyzing. His face hardened into something scary.
"Get out."
"What?"
"Get. Out." Each word was like a knife. "Whatever game you're playing, I'm not interested."
"Game? I'm not—"
"I said GET OUT!" He grabbed his phone. "Or should I call security?"
I ran. Grabbed my clothes, pulled them on with shaking hands, and ran out of that hotel room like the devil was chasing me. I didn't stop until I reached my apartment, where I locked every door and cried in the shower until the water ran cold.
Back in the present, I touch my stomach where Ethan once grew. Two months after that nightmare morning, I discovered I was pregnant. And when I went to Dominic's office to tell him, he destroyed me all over again.
My phone buzzes. A text from an unknown number:
"I know what happened that night six years ago. I know who drugged you. I know who set everything up. Meet me in the hotel parking garage in 20 minutes. Come alone, or Ethan's next kidnapper might succeed. —A Friend"
My blood turns to ice.
Someone knows. Someone's been watching all along. And they're threatening my son.
I should call Marcus. I should call the police. I should do anything except meet some stranger in a parking garage at midnight.
But the text includes one more thing—a photo attachment.
I open it with trembling fingers.
It's a picture of Vivienne from six years ago, standing in the hotel hallway outside Dominic's room. She's smiling at the camera, holding up a room key card like a trophy. And in the corner of the photo, barely visible, is someone else's shadow—someone watching her, recording her.
Someone who's been collecting evidence this whole time.
Who took this photo? Who's been sitting on this information for six years? And why are they reaching out now?
I grab my coat and head for the door, my mind racing with terrible possibilities.
But as I reach for the handle, it turns on its own.
Someone's already here.