Page 142 of Alpha-Ex Wedding Ruse
My breath caught. “Ollie!” Tears blurred my vision. “Baby, are you—”
The line went dead before I could complete my sentence.
I moved without thinking, wiping my face with the back of my hand as I pulled up the address for the docks on my phone. I hailed a cab. The driver frowned when I told him the location, muttering something about trouble, but I begged him, even offered double the fare. Reluctantly, he agreed.
Dock Street was an industrial graveyard—rows of rusted shipping containers, crumbling warehouses, and wide, empty lots that swallowed sound. And Pier Forty-Seven sat at the very end, lonely and silent.
I dialed the number that had called me earlier. The number wouldn’t connect anymore. So, I ventured into Pier Forty-Seven. My chest tightened as I circled the container yard, finally finding a narrow entrance.
Inside, it was pitch black. I switched on my phone’s torchlight and flashed it forward.
That was when I saw him. My son.
He was tied to a chair, head slumped forward, a blindfold over his eyes. My heart clenched so hard I could barely breathe.
I rushed toward him, but stopped short when the overhead lights snapped on, harsh and blinding. A shadow shifted behind Ollie. It was a man holding a pistol.
My blood went cold when I saw his face.
Victor Vaughn.
“Hello, Leila.” His smirk was all teeth, all venom. “Now that you’re here…shall we begin?”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Luca’s POV
Yet another dead end.
Another lying parasite feeding off my desperation. This one had spun a long, elaborate story about seeing Ollie at a park with “a group of men”, even throwing in fake details to make himself sound credible.
I was inches from breaking his nose—just so he’d remember the exact moment he decided to waste my time—when Charles and the intel team stepped between us.
Twenty-four hours.
Twenty-four fucking hours, and no one knew a single thing that could lead me to my son.
The ache in my chest was foreign—like someone had reached in, ripped my heart out, and shredded it into ribbons. I’d only just learned Ollie was mine. Two weeks. That’s all I’d had. Two weeks to imagine the years I’d missed, to promise myself I’d make every birthday, every school game, every scraped knee count from now on.
And now, he was…gone.
In less than fifteen days, someone had dared to take him from me.Rage was the only thing keeping me standing. I couldn’t afford despair. Couldn’t allow the “what ifs” to crawl into my head. I needed my mind sharp, my will sharper. Whoever had taken Ollie wasn’t just targeting a child—they were targeting me.
Cassius? No. I’d crossed him off long ago. The coward had vanished from Manhattan after our last encounter.
My father? I wouldn’t put it past him. He’d sworn he knew nothing about Ollie, claimed he didn’t even know Leila had a child. I didn’t believe him. I never would. And until I had proof otherwise, I was keeping eyes on him around the clock.
Victor? He was just as likely. Maybe he didn’t know for certain Ollie was mine, but an obsession like his doesn’t need proof—it only needs a reason. Ollie looks like me. Anyone with eyes could connect the dots.
Half of the suspects circling this in my mind were my own blood. That was the part that burned.
Charles walked into the office where the rest of the intelligence team had been holed up for the last twenty-four hours.
“I’ve doubled security at your mother’s hotel,” Charles informed me. I’d asked him to put a security detail on my mother after she divulged the truth about my father. I wouldn’t trust him not to try and snuff her out—she was a witness to the crimes he committed. And I’d doubled that security since Ollie’s disappearance.
“Any update?” I asked, desperation clinging to my words.
“Your father seems to be going about his normal daily tasks. He’s home right now. Nothing shady.”
