She Whispered “There’s a Bomb” to the Ruthless Billionaire—What He Did Next Shocked Everyone!

Adrian's mother had been dead for twelve years. He remembered her perfume, her piano playing, and the way she'd turned his face toward the camera in every family picture. He did not remember her as a murderer.

June drove them through warehouse streets while dawn colored the sky dirty pink.

“Show me proof,” Adrian said.

June handed him a photocopied authorization. The signature belonged to Margaret Voss. Above it: APPROVE ASSET DISPOSAL.

Mara read it twice. “They called a person an asset.”

“Yes,” June said. “That's how they could live with it.”

Lucian stared at the floor. “Mom said Dad was dangerous, but she never told me she helped him.”

“She thought she was saving you boys.” June's voice hardened. “People can do monstrous things and still tuck their children into bed.”

They reached a shuttered print shop June used as a safe house. On the walls were maps, names, and photographs of missing children. Mara couldn't make herself look away.

“How many?” she asked.

“Confirmed? Forty-two. We suspect more.”

June opened an encrypted folder on a battered laptop. It showed shipping invoices, adoption filings, and forged death certificates. Under several entries appeared the same corporate seal: BLACKTHORN INTERNATIONAL.

“That's my father's investment firm,” Adrian said.

“After his death, ownership moved through trusts. Somebody's still running the network.”

“Lucian?” Mara asked before she could stop herself.

Lucian met her eyes. “I understand why you think that.”

June typed a password. “I don't think it's Lucian. Not because he's innocent of everything, but because the person in charge has been setting him up for years.”

A second screen showed wire transfers authorized from Lucian's account on nights when he was documented overseas.

Adrian exhaled. “Who has access?”

June hesitated. “One person still alive with the founder's master credentials.”

A motor growled outside. Headlights washed across the window.

June shut the laptop. “Everybody down.”

A brick smashed through the glass, wrapped in a child's pink ribbon. Attached was a note.