Chapter 2

I hung up before Randall could even finish his sentence.

A second later, the phone buzzed again. This time it was my stepmother, Sylvia Carrington.

She sounded on the verge of tears, her voice cracking with every word. "Tristan, please, I'm begging you. Please save Harper…"

Leaning against the railing, I closed my eyes and quietly listened to her performance.

"Besides, Harper loves you so much. She's looked up to you her entire life. Are you really going to just stand there and watch a tiger devour her? Can you really bear to do that?"

I smiled.

Of course, I could.

…

An hour later, I was hauled into the local police station. Many users had reported my live stream for its graphic content and for promoting violence.

Sitting across from the interrogation desk, I calmly watched the wall-mounted TV.

It was broadcasting a breaking news report on the emergency rescue of the "little girl trapped in the tiger enclosure".

The news anchor was pulling out all the stops, describing how sweet and innocent the girl was, painting her as a tragic little angel.

I raised my handcuffed hands and gave a helpless shrug toward the window, where my family had just arrived outside the interrogation room.

"As you can see, I'm a bit tied up right now," I said. "A few good Samaritans reported me for streaming my daughter's potential final moments, so I'm locked down."

Within seconds, Sylvia's expression morphed from shock to utter disbelief, and then into pure, unadulterated malice.

Her well-maintained face twisted with rage as she shrieked, "Tristan, you did this on purpose! You're just sick with jealousy because Harper is closer to Dalton than she is to you! And since you couldn't have all their love, you decided to destroy her! You're absolutely rotten to the core!"

It looked like they had that script ready to go for a while now.

Randall was much calmer than she was. Though consumed with anxiety, he managed to maintain his authoritative presence.

He glared at me. "What is going on here?"

"No idea," I said, kicking back in my chair with a lazy shrug. "The people in the chat thought the stream was too intense and called the cops, so the police brought me in."

Randall's face instantly hardened.

He knew exactly that it was an excuse, but he couldn't find a single retort.

"Damn it!" he growled, pulling out his phone. "I'm calling in some favors. I'll pull whatever strings it takes to get you out on bail before the day is over!"

"Don't waste your breath," I shot back instantly.

"What do you mean by that?"

"If I walk out of here before the official investigation is wrapped up, it's basically an admission of guilt."

I looked at him, my gaze calm but sharp. "Dad, we both know that if this charge sticks, my life is over."

Randall froze, his hand hovering in mid-air. He knew I was right.

I slowly muttered, "Dad, if it comes down to it, and you can only save one of us, who do you choose? Me or Harper?"

His lips parted, but no sound came out.

Just then, Randall's phone buzzed. Looking like a man who had just been thrown a lifeline, he answered it instantly. It was his assistant calling from the zoo.

"Mr. Sheffield, a heroic man just stepped up at the scene! He claims to be ex-Special Forces and volunteered to go in. He's already heading down into the exhibit with a tranquilizer rifle!"

Randall's eyes instantly lit up.

"That's great! Who is he? Does he know what he's doing?"

"He said his name is Dalton Reeves. He claims he's got it completely under control! But…"

"But what?" Randall asked.

"But he says the kid is completely hysterical. She's crying out for her dad. On top of that, the Belorian Tiger is starting to get agitated.

"Your son, Tristan, is the only one who knows how to handle these apex predators. We need him to calm it down and secure the perimeter so the rescue team can get her out safely."