Chapter 3 Arthur

The corridor was a river of white coats and quick footsteps, doctors and nurses flowing past in both directions. I kept my pace steady, phone pressed to my ear as if speaking to family, my eyes scanning every corner with deliberate caution.

George's voice crackled in my earpiece, low and urgent. "Sophia, the detective says the target went into Room 703 five minutes ago. He just came out. Heading toward you now."

I gave the kind of subtle nod no one would notice, turned toward the window, and covered my mouth with one hand as I coughed softly, playing the part of a patient waiting for her turn.

When I drifted closer to 703, I caught sight of him in the glass reflection—a tall silhouette approaching from behind me.

Long, deep-gray overcoat. Upright posture. Almost exactly as George had described.

It had to be him.

The man who had taken Daniel.

I swallowed down the knot of tension in my chest, waited until he passed by ten or fifteen meters, then slipped into step behind him without drawing attention.

He didn't seem to notice me. His stride was calm, deliberate, carrying him straight toward the emergency stairwell at the far end of the hall.

My brow furrowed. That area was a blind spot for the hospital's cameras. He knew exactly what he was doing.

I slowed, letting him push the door open and disappear inside. Only after a few minutes did I ease the door open myself and slide through.

The stairwell was dim, the air heavy with the stale scent of dust and neglect. My ears caught the rhythm of footsteps echoing from below. Instinct pulled me into the shadow of the corner landing, breath locked in my throat.

Moments later, a group of men in black suits emerged from the lower floor, climbing steadily. There were at least ten of them, moving into position along both sides of the stairwell, sealing it off completely.

A cold weight settled in my stomach. This wasn't the scale of a simple kidnapping. Whoever these people worked for... they were powerful.

Then a man in his forties was shoved down from the floor above, stumbling until his knees hit the concrete. He wore a hospital gown, his face pale, his whole body trembling.

Even in the weak light, I recognized him instantly. Daniel—my client.

Confusion flashed through me. Why was he here?

Before I could piece it together, the man in the gray overcoat stepped into view from the lower stairs. He stopped in front of Daniel, towering over him. The angle kept his face hidden, but the chill radiating from him was unmistakable.

"Mr. Arthur Russell... just a few more days... please..." Daniel's voice shook, cracking with desperation. "The shipment is still at customs. I just need more time..."

My pulse jumped. Daniel knew the man's name. Arthur Russell. So he wasn't just some hired gun—he was the one behind it.

Arthur's hand slid inside his coat and came out holding a pistol—sleek, black, unmistakable. A Beretta.

My eyes narrowed, memory snapping to the morning's scene. The gun that had fallen onto the street vendor's table... identical. This wasn't coincidence.

Arthur bent slightly, pressing the barrel to Daniel's forehead. His voice was cold steel. "My patience is finite. I hear you hired a PR firm to clean up your mess?"

Daniel's head dropped, his words tumbling over each other. "It was only to stabilize the stock market... I didn't know the man who took me was you... Please, I have a daughter waiting for a bone marrow transplant... let me donate to her first..."

He didn't finish. One of Arthur's bodyguards stepped forward and drove a boot into his side, knocking him flat. Blood splattered onto the concrete as Daniel coughed.

"Boss, don't waste your time. Let me deal with him now." The guard drew a pistol fitted with a suppressor, aiming between Daniel's eyes.

My hand shot to my pocket. I switched my phone to silent recording mode, framing the scene, ready to take the shot that would be proof enough.

But the gunshot never came. Arthur's hand lifted, stopping the guard mid-trigger.

He holstered his own weapon, then turned his head slightly—toward me. My heart slammed against my ribs. I ducked back behind the wall, holding my breath until my lungs burned.

"Because of your daughter..." Arthur's tone shifted, losing some of its ice, gaining something darker. "You have three days. If I don't see that shipment..."

The gun barrel tapped Daniel's cheek, slow and deliberate. "...you and your daughter can meet God together."

He stepped back, signaling to the guards. Daniel scrambled to his feet, stammering thanks before disappearing into the shadows.

The guards melted away just as quickly, leaving only me and the tall figure in the stairwell.

He didn't leave. He stood there, still as stone, as if weighing something in his mind.

Then, slowly, he turned. His footsteps began to close the distance between us... one measured step at a time.