“Save your strength,” she said bluntly. “You’re weak.”
As the SUV disappeared beneath the river, Daniel realized something brutal: without her, he would have died unnoticed.
When he woke, there was no mansion. No hospital.
Just the metallic drip of water into a bucket. A damp concrete room. Plastic sheeting where a window should be. The smell of mildew and old food.
He sat up slowly. His suit was torn. His watch gone. Pockets empty.
The girl sat on a crate, watching him cautiously.
“Where am I?” he croaked.
“An empty storage room behind a warehouse,” she said. “Nobody comes here.”
She handed him a half-empty bottle of water. He drank in small gulps, relief mixing with humiliation.
“I’m Daniel,” he said, clinging to his name as if it still meant something.
“Lena,” she replied. “I’m thirteen.”
Outside was a filthy alley, stray dogs, people who didn’t look twice. He caught his reflection in a store window—he looked homeless. Invisible.