The Stolen Daughter and the Dark Truth Behind a Billionaire Wedding
“I’m releasing the magnetic locks on the clinic now,” Marcus said. “You have sixty seconds before the backup system re-boots the primary firewalls.”
I ran out of the lab.
The air in the hallway felt even colder now.
I reached the double steel doors.
The small green light above the door handle was blinking.
I pushed the doors open.
The ward inside was dark.
The only light came from the small screens of medical monitors.
The steady, slow beep of a heart rate monitor echoed in the quiet space.
I walked down the central aisle.
On either side were small rooms with glass walls.
Most of them were empty.
The beds were bare, the sheets folded neatly.
I moved deeper into the clinic.
My heart was pounding in my chest.
“Rowan,” Marcus said. “I see a power spike in the pediatric unit.”
“Where?” I asked.
“Room four,” he said. “At the very back.”
I walked toward the back of the ward.
The air smelled of baby powder and sterile metal.
I reached the door of room four.
I looked through the glass.