The Missing Prisoner

Declan stared down at the intricate structure of the towering Lego robot resting on the living room floor. He studied the rigid plastic figure, taking in the carefully chosen colors and the unmistakable shape of the blocks. A sudden pang of complicated emotion struck him as the realization hit him with full force. The structure was not just a random assortment of toys. It was explicitly built in the distinct image of a beautiful young woman, complete with long blocky hair and a delicate posture.

*Is this little guy missing his mommy again?* Declan thought, exasperated by his son's unending fixation. He dragged his hand through his dark hair, a dull headache forming behind his eyes. It felt like no matter what he did, he could never fill the void left by her absence.

He turned his gaze toward the grand staircase. The small boy stood halfway up the wooden steps, a silent shadow in his own home.

"Lachlan, do you really want to see your mummy—" Declan blurted out. He did not even think the words through before they slipped from his mouth. The exhaustion of the day was catching up to him, loosening his tongue.

Standing morosely on the upper landing, the lonely and stubborn little boy stopped in his tracks. Lachlan turned his head slowly, looking down at his father through the banister. His dark eyes held a weight far too heavy for a child his age. He did not speak, but he nodded solemnly, his tiny jaw set in stone.

Declan firmly pursed his lips together. A strange wave of intense relief washed over his chest. He was suddenly grateful that he hadn't subjected Chloe to worse, lasting physical punishments back in the hospital lounge yet. He had been close. The anger had pulsed hot in his veins, urging him to destroy the woman who had ruined his life. But if he had actually gone through with hurting her, Lachlan's unforgiving nature meant the boy would never look at him the same way again. He would lose his son forever.

Years ago, believing that Chloe was dead, Declan had fabricated an elaborate lie. He told his fragile son that his mother loved him dearly, that she was an angel watching over him. He tried to shield the boy from the spiteful truth of her abandonment, wanting to protect his innocence at all costs. But recently, to his shock, he had discovered she was alive and hiding right beneath his nose.

His internal reflections were abruptly interrupted when his cell phone rang loudly in his pocket.

Declan pulled the device out and swiped the screen. It was his assistant, Dalton.

"Mr. Lancaster…" Dalton's voice sounded frantic and breathless over the line, as if he had been sprinting down the hospital corridors. "Chloe got away."

Declan’s handsome face crumpled in disbelief. He froze, his grip tightening on the phone until his knuckles turned white. He didn't even bother to respond to the absurd claim.

He ended the call and shoved the phone into his pocket, turning on his heel. Leaving his bewildered parents standing in the living room to deal with an aloof Lachlan—who promptly slammed his heavy bedroom door shut on them, the loud thud echoing through the massive house—Declan sprinted out the front door.

He rushed to his car, threw open the door, and slid into the driver's seat. The engine roared to life under his command. He slammed his foot on the gas pedal, the tires screeching against the pavement as he rushed straight back to the hospital. His mind reeled the entire drive.

Arriving at the ninth-floor VIP section in record time, Declan strode down the pristine corridor and stopped dead in his tracks. He stared blankly at the wide-open mahogany door of the executive lounge. His steely face lined with shock, he stepped closer to meticulously examine the high-tech copper mechanism embedded in the wood.

The unique biometric fingerprint lock was intact. There were zero signs of forced entry. No scratches on the metal panel or cracked casing. This lock was designed with no manual password system and permitted zero leeway for brute-force break-ins. According to the corporate database, only his own fingerprint and Lachlan's tiny fingerprint were securely registered to the device.

"Did you find anything from the surveillance camera?" Declan demanded. He turned his piercing gaze onto Dalton, who sweated nervously nearby, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

Dalton looked down at his polished shoes, unable to meet his boss's terrifying glare. "Mr. Lancaster, the back-end storage of the surveillance system was intentionally destroyed."

Declan's pupils contracted sharply. He racked his brain, trying to figure out who in the world could possibly decipher and wipe Apex Global's secured, multi-million-dollar cybersecurity system so quickly and thoroughly. It defied logic. Desperate for any physical lead on Chloe's accomplice, he summoned the front desk nurse to the ninth floor.

The petite nurse arrived clutching a clipboard, looking terrified. Dalton immediately launched into aggressive questioning.

"You are required to have a flawless memory to work in Apex Global," Dalton barked, towering over her trembling frame. "Who has been to this floor since eleven o'clock this morning? Give me every unlogged visitor."

The nervous nurse fiercely scoured her memory. She stammered out room numbers, listing off ordinary family members visiting the lower wards. Dalton pressed her harder, demanding any face she did not recognize. She shook her head multiple times, close to tears.

Then, she paused. She hesitated as a memory surfaced, biting her bottom lip. "Oh yeah... Nah, it can't be him."

"Who?" Declan frowned deeply, his patience paper-thin. His voice cut through the tense air of the hallway.

The nurse jumped at his tone. "Master Lachlan!" she finally admitted nervously. She noted that he had arrived in the main lobby at around ten minutes past eleven, walking by himself.

A massive wave of shock washed over Declan. He stood frozen as a chilling realization set in.

It all made sense now. The lack of forced entry. The untouched biometric scanner. It was the only possible logical explanation for the breached lock. His own flesh and blood had opened the door.

A fiery sense of deep betrayal surged within his chest. The boy he had protected, the boy he had lied for to keep his heart pure, had sneaked into the hospital and freed the woman who abandoned them.

Seeing the dark storm brewing on his boss's face, Dalton hurriedly shooed the nurse away, waving his hand toward the elevator. He cleared the room of all other personnel, knowing better than to let anyone witness Declan's wrath.

Declan stepped into the empty lounge. He walked over to the wooden desk and thumped his heavy fist onto the polished surface. The dull thud echoed in the silent room.

He hissed scornfully into the empty air, staring at the chair she had occupied. "Chloe, I guess I’ve underestimated you. I can’t believe you managed to turn my son on me the moment you stepped foot into the country. Seems like you’ve bought Lachlan over."

Standing nervously by the door, Dalton watched the terrifying display of anger. He gingerly stepped forward, holding a fresh cup of hot coffee. He placed it carefully on the desk near Declan's clenched fist. He cleared his throat, offering a trembling, calculated suggestion.

"Mr. Lancaster, since Master Lachlan and Chloe are apparently already in secret contact, why don’t you just allow them to meet officially?"

Declan stopped. The anger rolling off him seemed to pause. He raised his dark eyebrows and looked up at Dalton. He slowly began gently tapping his long fingers rhythmically on the tabletop, a dangerous glint returning to his eyes.

"Go on," he commanded.

Relieved that he wasn't immediately fired for speaking out of turn, Dalton eagerly laid out his psychological scheme.

"Mr. Lancaster, think about it," Dalton began, his voice gaining confidence as he pitched the idea. He reminded Declan of the past. Historically, any woman who had ever tried to get physically close to Master Lachlan ended up miserable. They were broken by the boy's behavior, driven to tears and resignation within days of stepping foot in the villa.

"If you officially brought Chloe into your private house as a hired babysitter," Dalton continued, pacing slightly in front of the desk, "Lachlan's severe OCD, lack of empathy, and intense autism would quickly shatter the boy's dreamy, perfect illusion of a loving mommy. He would see her flaws, and she would fail to meet his impossible standards."

Dalton gestured with his hands, warming up to his own brilliance. "Simultaneously, the supposedly manipulative countryside girl would be mentally tormented by the boy's impossibly demanding behavior. She thinks she can use him? Let her try to handle his routines and outbursts."

Dalton stopped and looked at Declan, a smug smile creeping onto his face. "Who knows, perhaps you won’t even need to dismiss her before she begs you to let her pack up and leave!" he finished triumphantly.