Emma had been warned never to go near the vent. Never touch it. Never kneel beside it. And above all, never feed whoever was hiding beneath the floor.

David carried Sophia into the bright, sunlit kitchen, setting her gently on the center island marble counter. The young girl was trembling violently, her small fingers clutching David’s suit jacket as if she feared he would vanish if she let go.

"Water..." Sophia rasped, her lips cracked and dry.

Emma quickly ran to the sink, filled a clean glass with lukewarm water, and handed it carefully to her sister. Sophia drank greedily, spilling drops down her dirt-streaked neck.

David was down on his knees beside her, wiping her face with a soft cloth, his eyes red from weeping. "How long, Sophia? How long have you been down there?"

Sophia looked up at the ceiling, her eyes wide with lingering terror. "Since... since the trip. The lady brought me here in a big box. She told me if I made a noise, she would hurt Emma."

David felt a sickening knot tie itself in his stomach. The Maine drowning had been a setup. Victoria had orchestrated his daughter's kidnapping, kept her imprisoned under the very house he paid for, and spent two years pretending to comfort him in his grief.

"Why?" David whispered, horror dawning on him. "Why would she do this?"

Before Sophia could answer, the electronic deadbolts on the front doors clicked shut simultaneously. The heavy steel storm shutters over the kitchen windows began to lower automatically, blocking out the daylight and plunging the room into artificial shadow.

"David!" Victoria's voice echoed through the house over the intercom system.

David stood up, pushing Sophia and Emma behind him. "Victoria! Open these doors right now! The police are already on their way!"

A cold laugh bubbled through the speakers. "No, they aren't, darling. I blocked the cellular signal the moment you pulled her out of that hole. The house is on complete lockdown. No calls get out. No one gets in."

David reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. The screen read: NO SERVICE - EMERGENCY ONLY BLOCKED.

"You're crazy," David shouted toward the ceiling camera. "What do you want?"

"I wanted what I was promised," Victoria replied smoothly. "Your family’s estate trust, David. Sixty million dollars sitting in a blind fund that couldn't be released until your missing daughter was declared legally deceased after three years. The three-year mark was yesterday."

The pieces fell together with terrifying clarity. Victoria hadn't just married him for money; she was a professional predator. Keeping Sophia alive below the floorboards was her insurance policy—if David ever suspected foul play or tried to alter his will, she could use the child as leverage.

"You won't get a dime," David growled.

"I don't need the trust anymore," Victoria said, her tone hardening into iron. "I just need to clean up this mess. My security team will be here in ten minutes to transport all three of you to a private facility in Canada. If you cooperate, no one gets hurt today."

The intercom went dead.

Emma grabbed her father's hand, her small voice trembling. "Papa... what are we going to do?"

David looked down at his two daughters—one traumatized from years in darkness, the other trembling with fear. The house had become a high-tech trap, designed to keep them locked inside until Victoria's hired mercenaries arrived.