❖ At the Hospital
Doctors worked on Ava for hours.
Ethan paced the hallway like a man with his soul dangling over a cliff.
Malik sat on a bench, hands clasped between his knees, too afraid to speak.
Finally, the head physician approached. Ethan nearly collapsed under the weight of dread.
“She’s stable,” he said at last.
“Mr. Carter… your daughter was misdiagnosed. She was in an induced coma—not dead.
This boy saved her life by speaking up.”
Ethan turned slowly toward Malik, awe in his eyes.
An induced coma.
Someone had done this to her.
“Malik,” Ethan said quietly, “can you describe the man you saw? The one who injected her?”
Malik nodded.
“I remember everything. I was hiding behind a dumpster when he dragged her out. At first, I thought he was helping her—until I saw the needle. He left in a silver van. I memorized the license plate.”
Ethan inhaled sharply.
“You memorized it?”
“I’m homeless, sir,” Malik said softly.
“I memorize things to survive.”
For the first time, Ethan felt something shift inside him—respect.
And something darker.
Because he recognized that license plate.
It belonged to someone he trusted.