(Helen's POV)
The warehouse smells like rust and old rain and desperation.
Just like my life.
I stand near the broken window on the second floor, watching the empty street below, waiting for them to arrive.
Behind me, Charlie sits in the center of the room. Blindfolded. Hands zip-tied in front of him. Small. Fragile. Terrified.
I should feel bad. After all, he's only a kid, and I have no enmity with him.
But whenever I think about his parents—Samuel and Caroline who jointly ruined my life—I feel nothing but a burning resentment.
Jayden—the help sent by the man I reached out to—stands guard by the door. Arms crossed. Face blank.
"They coming?" he asks.
"They'll come." I don't turn around. Just keep watching the street. "They have to."
"Lady, I don't think you understand how this w
