The millionaire took pity on the beautiful homeless girl and hired her as a caregiver for his disabled father…

Sinclair drove the car onto the property and parked in the shade of trees so it wasn’t visible from the road. Judging by everything, the house is empty, he noted, looking around. No cars, no security.

That’s strange, Veronica frowned. If they’re holding Catherine here, there should be security. Perhaps they don’t expect visitors, especially on a weekday, Sinclair suggested.

Or the security is inside the house. They cautiously approached the porch. The door was locked, but a nearby window was ajar.

Sinclair climbed in without hesitation and opened the door from inside, letting Veronica in. The house looked lived-in: cups with unfinished coffee in the living room, an open magazine on the sofa, breakfast remnants in the kitchen. Someone had clearly been here very recently.

Need to check all rooms, Sinclair whispered. You take the first floor, I’ll go upstairs. Veronica nodded and began systematically checking rooms.

Kitchen, living room, dining room, study—everywhere signs of recent presence, but no trace of Catherine or anyone who could be her guard. Suddenly, she heard a muffled exclamation from above. Her heart sank—was Ethan finding his daughter? Or running into security? Veronica rushed to the stairs and ran up.

In the far room, door wide open, she saw Sinclair. He stood motionless, staring at something on the wall. Approaching, Veronica saw it was a city map with marked points.

Nearby hung photos showing Ethan Sinclair in various places: leaving the office, getting into the car, dining at a restaurant. Some photos included Veronica. They’re watching us, Sinclair said quietly.

All this time. Veronica examined the photos in horror. Some were taken very recently: here she is leaving the Sinclair mansion to the garden, here she and Ethan talking by the fountain.

We need to leave here, she said decisively. If they’ve been watching us, they might have noticed we came here. Wait, Sinclair pointed to another wall.

Look at this. There hung another map, this time of rural area. A small point in the forest was circled in red, about 12 miles from current location.

Pinned nearby was a photo of a small hunting cabin. Think she could be there? Veronica asked. Possibly, Sinclair nodded.

That’s Grayson’s old hunting cabin. He showed it to me once, about five years ago. Said he uses it as a lair for solitude.

Isolated, hard-to-reach place, far from roads and prying eyes. Perfect spot to hold a captive, Veronica agreed. But how do we get there? From the map, no road.

There’s a forest trail you can drive on with an off-roader, Sinclair replied. That’s why I took the SUV, not a regular car. As if I anticipated.

They quickly photographed the map with the marked cabin and hurried to leave the house. Already in the car, driving out the gates, Veronica noticed a dust cloud in the distance—someone was approaching. «Faster,» she said tensely.

«Looks like company.» Sinclair hit the gas, and the SUV surged down the road. A couple miles later, he turned onto a narrow forest road.

«This will shorten the way and throw them off if they spotted us,» he explained. «Hold on tight; it’ll be bumpy.» The car indeed bounced on every bump and root.

Veronica gripped the handle above the door, mentally thanking Sinclair for foresight—a regular sedan wouldn’t make it here. After half an hour driving through forest, the road narrowed to a path. «Further on foot,» Sinclair said, stopping the car.

From the map, about two miles left. He took a small backpack from the trunk with a water bottle, first aid kit, and binoculars. Veronica also took her medical bag—if Catherine is there, she might need help.

They delved into the forest, trying to move as quietly as possible. Day was turning to evening, and sun rays barely penetrated the dense canopy. The air was scented with greenery and damp earth.

Finally, a small clearing appeared ahead, with a wooden hunting cabin on it, exactly like in the photo. Sinclair gestured Veronica to stop and pulled out binoculars. «See smoke from the chimney,» he whispered.

«Someone’s definitely there.» And an SUV parked at the entrance. Veronica strained to see the cabin.

Could they have found Catherine? And if yes, how to free her? Two against armed guards, slim chances. «Need to get closer and look in the window,» she decided. «Find out how many people and where exactly Catherine is held, if she’s there.»

«Too risky,» Sinclair shook his head. «Open space around the cabin; they’ll spot us right away.» «Then wait for dark,» Veronica suggested.

«It’s almost evening; soon it’ll be dark.» They retreated deeper into the forest and settled to wait, observing the cabin from afar. Time dragged agonizingly slow.

When it finally darkened, light appeared in the hunting cabin windows. «Now we can get closer,» Sinclair whispered. «Just carefully.»

They slowly approached the cabin, staying in tree shadows. Reaching the window, Sinclair cautiously peered inside and recoiled, his face white as sheet. «What there?» Veronica asked anxiously.

«Katie,» he rasped. «She’s there. Sitting at the table.

With her a man, seems guard. And someone else in the next room—I didn’t see.» Veronica’s heart pounded faster.

«So she was right. Catherine is alive. Let me look,» she requested.

Standing on tiptoe, Veronica peered in the window. In the sparsely furnished room, at the table sat a young woman—thin, pale, with a lifeless gaze. But even in this exhausted state, Veronica recognized her as the clinic patient, Evelyn.

Thus, Catherine Sinclair. Nearby sat a sturdy man with a stern face, clearly a bodyguard. He lazily flipped through a magazine, glancing at the girl occasionally.

From the adjacent room, door ajar, someone paced. «What do we do?» Veronica whispered, stepping away from the window. «We’re just two, and they likely have weapons.»

Sinclair clenched his fists. «I won’t leave without my daughter. Even if I have to fight.»

«Wait,» Veronica stopped him. «Need to act smarter. I have an idea.»

She opened her medical bag and took out several ampoules. «This is strong sedative,» she explained. «If added to food or drink, person will pass out in about fifteen minutes.

I need to get inside somehow and mix it in.» «Too dangerous,» Sinclair shook his head. «They might grab you.»

«No choice,» Veronica said firmly. «I’m a nurse; I know what I’m doing. Besides, they don’t know me, unlike you.»

After long arguments, they devised a plan. Veronica was to knock on the door, posing as a lost hiker, and ask for help. While the guards are distracted, she’d try to add the sedative to their drinks.

Sinclair would stay outside and enter on the signal—two short knocks on the window. «If I don’t signal in half an hour, call the police,» Veronica said, handing him her phone. «And don’t try to enter alone; it’s too dangerous.»

Sinclair reluctantly agreed. Veronica disheveled her hair, smeared her face with dirt, and tore her blouse sleeve to look like someone long wandering the forest. Then, taking a deep breath, she headed to the cabin.

Her heart pounded so hard it seemed audible a mile away. But no retreat. Veronica climbed the porch and knocked resolutely on the door.

Inside, everything went quiet. Then heavy footsteps, and the door cracked open; on the threshold stood the guard she’d seen in the window. «Who are you? How did you get here?» he asked roughly.

«Please help,» Veronica said in a trembling voice. «I’m lost in the forest. We were on a hike with friends, and I fell behind the group.

Been wandering for hours.» She stepped forward and swayed, feigning extreme fatigue. The guard instinctively steadied her, and Veronica seized the moment to look him in the eyes pleadingly.

«Can I come in? Just for a minute, to rest and call my friends.» The guard hesitated. At that moment, a voice from inside the house.

«Who’s there, Stephen?» «Some girl—says she’s lost,» the guard replied. «Let her in,» the unseen one said after a pause. «We’ll see what kind of bird she is.»

The guard reluctantly stepped aside, letting Veronica into the house. She entered, portraying extreme fatigue and gratitude. In the room at the table still sat Catherine, but now her gaze was fixed on Veronica.

Something like recognition flashed in the girl’s eyes. «Hope?» But she immediately lowered her head, as if fearing to show emotions. From the other room emerged a middle-aged man Veronica hadn’t seen before.

He scanned her appraisingly. «Lost, huh? And how did you end up in such wilderness?» We had a picnic by the river with friends, Veronica began inventing. I went to pick berries and didn’t notice how far I went.

When I tried to return, I realized I didn’t know the way. «And where’s your phone?» the man squinted. Dead battery, Veronica replied quickly.

I tried calling but couldn’t. The man exchanged glances with the guard, and Veronica realized her story sounded not very convincing. Need to act faster…