Ethan's call came the moment they closed the front door. The house felt too quiet. The living room light still glowed. The knots on Angelina's wrists burned like a memory.
"Hello, my dear," her uncle, Ethan said, voice warm and tight. "How are you?"
Angelina's reply was small. "I'm fine."
"Where have you been since last night?" he asked. "I called you, Paul, Roland. No answer. I even came by the house this evening. Nothing. Is everything all right?"
She could not answer. Her throat felt full. Her body wanted to make noise and could not. The phone shook against her ear.
"Can you hear me? Is everything all right? Why are you crying?" Ethan pressed.
Her voice broke. "It's Dad." The words cut the line.
"What? Your father? What happened to him?" He sounded sharp now.
She tried to form the sentence and could not. The room, the gun, the old man's body fell on her again. Tears came. She could not stop them.
"Talk to me," Ethan said. His voice rushed, but it stayed gentle. "Please. I want to know what happened."
Roland took the phone from her. He had dried his face with the back of his wrist and looked steadier. He told Ethan the story like a man at a bad table.
"We were taken," Roland said. "After we left your house, we were boxed in on the road. They hit Paul. They tied us up. They kept Dad. They left Angelina and me. They killed a man in the room. They gave us a condition."
There was a long pause. Angelina heard Ethan breathing hard on the line. "Who did this?" he asked.
"A gang," Roland said. "They demanded five hundred million in twenty-four hours. Then they came back and freed us. Dad is still with them."
Ethan cursed softly. "I will call people. I will call the police. Don't hang up."
Angelina felt the phone press to her ear as the line wound down. Her tears kept falling. She moved to her room when the call ended. The walls felt too close.
She shut the door and sat on the bed. The chief's words looped in her head like a tape.
Marry Dan Sanchez. Steal the files. Seven months. Or Paul dies.
How did they even know her name? How could anyone demand she must marry Dan? Someone inside must know. Someone watched them. Someone who knew Dan had been after her. The thought crawled and would not leave.
The chief's charge about Lucia crawled through her skull again. "Lucia ruined my boss's life long ago. She stole funds. She was responsible for his mother and sister's deaths."
Angelina pictured her mother folding clothes, tucking in loose hems, giving away food when the cupboard was thin. The idea of Lucia as a thief felt like a lie jammed into her chest. "My mother could never," she whispered. "Not Lucia."
She tried to pull the memory to comfort and it made her angrier. She had to focus. Her father was still a hostage. There was no time to unravel old ghosts now.
Her phone buzzed. Edmund. She did not pick up. The name made her chest ache. She lay down and sleep came without permission. She woke to a soft knock.
Edmund stood in the doorway. He looked worn, like a man who had spent the night waiting. He closed the door behind him without fuss.
"You okay?" he asked. He sat on the chair near the window. He did not push. He watched her like a man who measured every step.
She swallowed. "They took Dad," she said. The words were small.
Edmund listened. He had called and tried her number. He had phoned Roland and learned the basics. "I came as soon as I could," he said. "I've been calling people."
"Can we get the police?" Angelina asked. Her voice held a thin hope.
Edmund shook his head. "They said they're watching you. If you call the police, they kill Paul."
She had heard that warning a hundred times in her head. Hearing it again made her stomach drop.
"I'm scared," she said. "After Mum died, Dad's the only thing we have left."
Edmund reached for her hand. His jaw tightened. He looked like a man carrying a hard choice. "We have to be careful," he said. "We can't rush."
"What do you suggest?" she asked.
Edmund looked at her like a man deciding what to do with a small life in his hands. "We accept the condition," he said. His voice was steady, soft. "You marry Dan. You get the files from inside. You bring them back. You come to me. We will finish it."
"Marry Dan?" The words cut like glass.
"Yes," he said. "I know it hurts. But it's the way to get your father back. You do the job. You come back to me. Seven months gives us a plan."
Edmund's jaw tightened. He looked as if the choice cost him something. "I will be here," he said. "I will wait."
She wanted to be angry. She wanted to shout at him for asking her to give herself to another man. But their lives were the flimsiest things tonight. She let the grief spill over and cry into his jacket. He held her tight and whispered he was sorry. He told her he would carry the shame if she needed him to.
When he left an hour later he kissed her forehead and promised to do everything he could. He believed she would come back.
***
Angelina sat at the window with a cup that had grown cold. Time moved in thin lines. An hour passed. Then the phone buzzed again. Dan's name lit the screen.
She thought of not answering. She thought of how his invitations had been sharp and steady. She thought of the way Dan's life had been built of ease and certainty. She thought of the chief's demand and the camera photo in her pocket. Saying yes to dinner felt suddenly like a move on a chessboard.
She picked up. "Hello?" she said. Her voice sounded thin.
"How are you, babe?" Dan said. His voice was warm and practiced.
"I'm… fine," she said. She kept her tone careful.
"You sound different today," he said. "Nicer. I like it."
She forced a small laugh she could not show. "Maybe I'm having a good day," she said.
"It's been a year of me proving I care," he said. "I want you in my life. I want to take care of you."
Her throat tightened. "Are you sure?" she asked. Her voice tried to be casual.
"Absolutely," he said. "Can we meet on Saturday at Spago? Five o'clock?"
She thought of the chief's grainy photo in her pocket and of Paul's face in the dim room. Saying 'yes' felt like signing a contract in blood. Still, it felt like a way to begin. She heard herself answer before the weight had settled.
"Yes," she said. Her voice was small and flat.
"For sure?" he asked.
"Sure," she said. "I promise."
"Good," he said. "See you then. Bye, babe."
The line clicked dead. She held the phone for a moment. Outside, the street looked ordinary. A neighbor walked a dog. A car passed with a radio playing. The normal world moved on.
She pressed the cold phone to her palm. She felt the tiny edge of the camera photo still in her jacket. The chief had used the ransom to test them. That part was clear. Panic was a tool. But the thing he wanted was the file. The ransom was a scare. The marriage demand was the plan.
She thought of Edmund holding her. She thought of Paul bound in a room with cigarette smoke and the smell of gunpowder. She thought of Lucia and the lie the chief had told about her. The choice weighed like a stone under her ribs.
Saturday felt far and near at the same time. She had seven months and one meeting set. She had to learn how to pretend.
Saturday the real mission will start.