Chapter 3 - The Scavenger's Hunt
Back in the rundown district on the outskirts of the city, morning broke with a cold, gray drizzle.
Monica knew they couldn't stay in the shack. The baby needed milk, and the small amount of canned formula they had improvised from flour and water the night before wouldn't sustain him for another twenty-four hours.
She wrapped little Leo securely inside her own worn coat, tying it tight against her chest. Emily and Grace grabbed their canvas sacks, their small faces determined.
"Stay close to me, girls," Monica instructed as they stepped out into the muddy alleyway. "We’re going to the municipal market district. I can trade the aluminum cans we collected yesterday for enough cash to buy proper milk."
The market was bustling with early-morning vendors, shouting merchants, and hurried commuters ignoring the bitter weather. Monica navigated the narrow corridors between the stalls, keeping her head down, desperately trying to shield Leo from the biting wind.
As they passed a high-end pharmacy near the commercial center, Emily suddenly tugged on Monica's sleeve.
"Mom! Look!"
On a large, wall-mounted digital news screen outside the storefront, a breaking news broadcast was flashing in bold red letters:
MULTIMILLION-DOLLAR REWARD OFFERED FOR SAFE RETURN OF INFANT HEIR VANCE.
Beneath the headline flashed a clear, high-resolution graphic of the exact platinum identification bracelet Monica had found in the cardboard box the previous morning—complete with the crest and serial numbers.
Monica froze in her tracks, her blood running instantly cold.
A Vance. The baby sleeping quietly against her chest wasn't just an abandoned child; he was the center of a massive, city-wide manhunt being conducted by the most powerful billionaire family in the country.
"Mom, what's wrong?" Grace whispered, looking up with worry in her wide eyes. "Why are you looking at the screen like that?"
Before Monica could answer, a heavy hand landed firmly on her shoulder.
May you like
She gasped, spinning around. Standing behind her were two men in sharp, tailored black suits, their eyes scanning her worn clothes, the girls' canvas bags, and the small lump hidden beneath her coat.
"Excuse me, ma'am," one of the men said smoothly, though his hand remained close to his lapel, ready to move. "We couldn't help noticing you're carrying a bundle matching a high-priority description. Step aside with us, please. Mr. Vance would like a word."
