Chapter 2

I dragged my broken body home and pulled out my ID along with Cece's birth certificate.

I'm not young, and I've never been good with modern technology.

But I knew social media was the only weapon I had left.

"My name is Nora Jenkins, and I am exposing Richard Sterling..."

Holding my ID in one hand and Cece's birth certificate in the other, I stared into the camera and recounted every horrifying detail through my tears.

The moment I posted it, the video gained traction.

Dozens of comments poured in supporting me, and three civil rights lawyers sent private messages offering pro bono representation.

A spark of hope ignited in my chest. My heart pounded furiously.

I typed out careful, detailed replies to the lawyers, explaining the full situation.

Ten minutes later, my video was removed for "violating community guidelines."

The lawyers who had offered to help quickly messaged back with apologies, backing out the second they realized who Richard Sterling was.

The hope that had just flared up was instantly snuffed out. I was devastated, but I couldn't stop.

I kept uploading new clips, begging friends, family, and strangers to share and retweet.

It was completely useless.

Every upload was flagged and blocked by automated filters. Even if a post slipped through, it vanished within three minutes.

Shortly after, a notification pinged on my phone from an unknown number.

When I opened the attached video, my blood ran cold.

It was Cece.

She was stripped down, tied up, her small body covered in angry red welts.

Several massive men were taking turns kicking and mocking her.

Cece screamed for her mommy and daddy, her voice hoarse from crying.

A text followed:

*Post another video online, and your daughter dies right now.*

*Take the damn money and shut up. There are plenty of compatible donors out there, but this is the only time in your pathetic life you'll ever see fifteen million dollars!*

My tears blurred the screen.

The daughter I had labored three days to bring into this world, the daughter I would gladly trade my life for...

To them, she was nothing more than raw meat they could buy with dirty cash.

A crushing wave of helplessness washed over me.

Desperate, I dragged myself back to the Sterling estate.

I knelt on the cold pavement outside the gates, slamming my forehead against the stone over and over, begging for mercy.

A cold drizzle began to fall, mixing with my blood and tears.

"Take my heart instead! Please, take mine! Let Cece go!"

I don't know how long I banged my head against the ground. Blood ran down my forehead, into my eyes, and soaked my collar.

No one came out.

Suddenly, a pair of gentle hands gripped my arms and pulled me up.

"Ma'am, get up. Come with me. I can help."

The voice was young, soft, but unshakably firm.

I blinked through the blood in my good eye. "Really?"

The girl nodded solemnly.

She helped me into her car, drove me home, and showed me her press badge.

"I'm Emma, an investigative reporter. I saw your video before it got scrubbed and drove straight here."

"I need every shred of evidence you have. I'm going to put this on tomorrow night's prime-time broadcast. Once the public sees it, the authorities will have to step in."

"Thank you... thank you so much!" I bowed to her repeatedly.

Without even bandaging my bleeding head, I scrambled to gather every message, medical record, and timestamp.

When she packed up the files, Emma gave me a confident smile.

"Don't worry, Nora. I'll break this story live on air tomorrow. When the higher-ups see it, they will save your daughter."