The phone slipped from Victor’s hand. A cold panic surged through him, sharper than any financial collapse he’d ever faced.
“No… that’s impossible,” Victor muttered. “Your mother is… missing.”
But the proof was undeniable. The bear. The eyes.
How could Laura—once draped in designer clothes and priceless jewelry—be reduced to begging on the street? The humiliation was public. The truth incomprehensible.
Victor threw open the car door and stepped into traffic, ignoring the angry horns behind him. The smell of the street hit him instantly.
He approached the woman, his tailored suit absurd in that grim setting.
“Laura!” he called out.
She recoiled, lifting her head—and when she recognized him, sheer terror filled her face. Not shame. Fear.
Before Victor could reach her, a tall man stepped between them. He wore a worn jacket and baseball cap, a scar cutting through his eyebrow. His stance was firm, protective.
“Walk away,” the man said quietly.
Victor bristled. “That’s my wife,” he snapped, trying to move past him.
The man didn’t budge. “She doesn’t belong to you. Take another step and you’ll regret it. This is the only way she stays safe.”
Safe? From what?