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Peering up at it through the window, I was confused to see what looked like a historical building in the city, redone luxuriously. It was surprisingly nice, but I assumed medical centers likely had enough funding to keep them looking nice.
As we walked through the halls, following the directions on my phone, I noticed the numbers on the doors of each room, as if they were apartments rather than hospital rooms. It didn’t seem like a treatment facility.
The dread in my gut only tightened more the further we walked, and I couldn’t fight off my confusion as we went.
People walked through the halls in their normal clothes, going about their business as usual. That seemed strange. I never saw a single nurse or doctor either.
There was no time left to think about it any longer. Reaching his door, I exhaled, collected myself, and carefully knocked next to the beautiful engravings.
I gave Kat’s hand a small squeeze, hoping to find my own reassurance from it.
The door opened a moment later, only to reveal a man much bigger than myself, dressed in all black. Dark shades covered his eyes, even more imposing with his matching gloves on. With his arms crossed, his voice bellowed.
“Mila Lukin?”
Nodding slowly, I kept my eyes trained on the thug-looking man, watching as he backed up and made room for us.
“Thanks,” I mumbled, pulling Kat into the room behind me carefully.
It certainly didn’t look like a medical center.
The condo-like space was far bigger than I had imagined, with every luxurious fixing anyone could ask for. The twelve-foot ceilings made the place feel expansive, decorated with crystal chandeliers and other light fixtures that seemed almost impractical.
The floor was a sleek marble beneath our feet as we walked inside, gawking at the fine furniture and appliances. I didn’t see a single piece of medical equipment, furthering my uncertainty.
“If it isn’t my little runaway.”
The sound of his voice put me on edge immediately.
Alarm filled my chest the moment he walked out of another room, as big and imposing as ever. My father adjusted the cuff of his button-down, crisp, and perfectly dry-cleaned, meeting my eye with satisfaction in his own.
He looked perfectly healthy. Not at all on his deathbed.
“What is this?” I croaked, my eyes glued to him suspiciously. I held Kat’s hand tightly.
Dad was about to say something, but he stopped himself the moment he spotted my daughter next to me. His triumph slipped, and he scowled, shaking his head. “Your aunt was right. I’m sorry you kept the brat.”
“Where is my aunt?” I growled at him, eyes narrowed.
He was up to something, and I couldn’t help but feel like I had just walked into his trap.
He laughed heartily as if he had said the most amusing joke, and my heart sank.
In his world, that was never a good thing.
Backing away slowly, I pushed Kat toward the door. We had to leave before something bad happened. I couldn’t waste any time.
The sound of the thug’s step to the side made my steps cease, having blocked the door. There was no getting away without a fight.
Returning my eyes to my father, I shook my head in disbelief, feeling the tears that gathered in my eyes. “Aunt Maria would never lie to me.”
“Don’t believe me? I have the proof right here,” he said, pulling the cell phone out.
It was an older model, not updated like mine and most others. It wouldn’t be outlandish for Aunt Maria to still have an old phone. But I didn’t want to believe it.
He stepped toward us, and I instinctively stepped back, still keenly aware of how close the goon was. Dad scrolled through the texts and emails, all sent from that phone and addressed to me. It was hers.
He had taken it. Somehow, he got a hold of her phone, and he used it to his advantage.
