Chapter 1 - THE VIDEO IN THE TRAVEL BAG
The first thing I heard on the old video was my daughter screaming.
Not crying.
Screaming.
I froze with one hand still inside my father's dusty travel bag.
December 18.
The night I had flown to Chicago for an emergency business meeting.
The night I had trusted my family to protect my five-year-old daughter, Lily.
Then the camera panned toward the center of the room.
Lily sat tied to a dining chair with red ribbon around her waist and wrists.
My heart stopped.
My wife at the time, Victoria, stood ten feet away holding a bright plastic toy blaster loaded with soft foam darts.
People were laughing.
"Hold still, princess," Victoria called.
Lily shook her head, sobbing.
"I want Daddy."
Someone behind the camera laughed.
"He's not coming."
Victoria fired.
A foam dart hit Lily's shoulder.
Another struck her hair.
The guests cheered like this was a game.
Because the video kept playing.
Before I arrived, Marcus moved the gift table, Dad adjusted a camera, and Victoria checked the front-door monitor. Then someone said, "When Liam walks in, make sure Lily is still in the chair."
I leaned closer to the screen.
This had been staged.
Not for Lily.
For me.
Then a hidden file icon appeared at the bottom of the folder.
A file I had never seen.
PRE-PARTY_MESSAGE.
I clicked it.
The screen went black.
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And a familiar voice said:
"If Liam reacts the way we expect, we finally have what we need."
