Chapter 2

Three minutes after the call ended, Hawke's file arrived.

A dozen photos and a timeline file popped up in the encrypted channel. I first tucked Lily in, then sat down and opened the file.

Sofia de Luca, Marco de Luca—all the information about these two names was displayed on the screen.

This is followed by a string of numbers—government welfare payments, records of estate embezzlement, and monthly transfers. The transfer remarks are uniformly marked: Child support.

Child support? That's my daughter's life!

Someone is transferring money to them, yet they're letting my daughter live in a garbage dump.

"Hawk".

"exist."

"Does Marco still owe us money to loan sharks?"

There was a two-second silence on the other end. "How did you know?"

"The eyes of a gambler. I've seen many of those."

“Anthony’s gang has been looking for him. He owes 80,000 and is three months overdue.”

"Notify Anthony's gang. Their debts will be settled tonight."

What payment method will you use?

"Tell them directly to risk their lives."

At 3 a.m., I returned to the Bronx.

The back door to De Luca's apartment was unlocked. Marco lay on the living room sofa, his wrist bandaged, a bottle of liquor in his other hand. The television was on, playing a late-night shopping channel.

"Who—" He turned and saw me, the bottle slipping from his hand. "You're here again—didn't you leave?!"

"There's one question I forgot to ask."

I walked to the sofa and looked down at him.

Is Elena still alive?

"I...I don't know what you're talking about—"

“Who else but Elena would send you child support payments for Lily to a certain account every month?” I crouched down. “If you’ve thought it through, then tell me. Or do you think I’m here to discuss this with you?”

The last trace of alcohol on his face was gone, scared away.

"Elena... is still alive, and she's the one who transferred the money so that we could raise Lily properly."

“But what did you do?” I raised my hand and pointed it at his head.

"It was Sophia's idea! She said Lily was a burden! We don't spend money on her, and Elena doesn't know—"

He was so frightened he almost collapsed to the ground.

Where is Elena now?

He froze. His eyes glanced toward the door. Then he made one last wrong decision—he tried to run.

I tripped over his only usable leg. He fell to the ground, knocking out two teeth from his jaw. Blood splattered on the cheap floor.

"Why are you running? You piece of trash." I stepped on his ankle.

"No! I know nothing! It was that guy named Kane! Marcus Kane! He ordered us to do it!"

Click.

The sound of his ankle shattering and his piercing scream rang out simultaneously.

Sofia rushed downstairs, her robe belt not even tied properly.

"Marco—you mad dog!" She lunged at me, scratching my face with her nails. "Get out of here! You have nothing to do with our family!"

"Yeah?"

I easily dodged her attack, grabbed her wrist with my five fingers, and lifted her up.

"No relation? You've seized my mother-in-law's property!"

"No! That's not how it is!" she screamed.

"Where did you take Elena?!"

She started crying and begging me to let go.

“After my mother-in-law passed away, you seized her inheritance.” I released her, and she fell back to the floor, her wrist crushed by my grip.

“You drove my beloved wife away, lied to me that she eloped, and left my daughter to live in a garbage dump.”

I straightened up and looked down at the aunt and niece. One had a broken wrist and ankle and was convulsing on the ground; the other was sprawled at the bottom of the stairs, still muttering something, but her words were no longer coherent sentences.

"A few of Anthony's gang members will be coming to collect debts tonight. They won't want the money."

I walked to the door without turning back.

"No!" They were sentenced to death and fell to the ground, their faces pale.

The door closed gently behind me.

In the alley, Lily's tent had already been cleared away by the garbage truck. Cardboard, plastic sheeting, and even the half-eaten crayon she had hidden under the tattered blanket—all were pressed into the garbage compactor.

I smoked a cigarette.

Then we returned to the hotel.

The elevator doors opened, and a figure stood at the end of the corridor. Hawke had arrived.

"Help me investigate the whereabouts of my wife Elena, and the account she used to transfer money to Lily."

"Yes!" Hawke typed on the keyboard.

A document was compiled, and there was a conspicuous name on it.

Marcus Kane.

He is 34 years old. He is the vice president of Kane Realty. He is the son of City Councilor William Kane.

He always appears in public dressed in a suit and tie, and his social media accounts are adorned with the title of "Entrepreneur of the Year".

There's another page in the file. All three sexual assault charges were settled out of court. All the women involved subsequently moved out of New York, and two of them were diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder.

The third page contains only one candid photo.

A woman stood on the lawn, dressed in an expensive gown and heavily made up. Her eyes were sunken, her cheeks were pale, and a precisely calculated smile played on her lips.

That's Elena.

I zoomed in on the photo until the pixels started to crack. Then I found that detail—her left hand. Clenched into a fist, her nails digging into her palm. The veins on the back of her hand were still clearly visible in the blurry image.

She's still alive. She's using the pain to keep herself conscious.

I turned off the screen.

“Elena sends money to Marco every month through Kane’s company account, hoping they can raise Lily.”

Hawke could tell I was suppressing my anger.

"She must have had a reason for doing this, please..."

"No need to say anything more."

I took out my folding briefcase and started organizing my gear.

“I will personally pay a visit to this Marcus.”