She was only six years old when Theodore Zane’s parents took her from the orphanage for the tenth time.
Back then, she thought she finally had a home. Only later did she realize it was nothing but a cage, a never-ending nightmare with no light at the end.
Theodore Zane’s father, Howard Zane, ran a pig farm, making his living slaughtering pigs every day.
From a very young age, even before he could remember clearly, they’d noticed something was off about Theodore Zane. He liked torturing the piglets—sometimes even grabbed a knife and killed them himself, smearing himself in blood for fun.
As he grew, he started beating up smaller kids nearby. Parents would come flocking to complain, and even the police got involved more than once.
His mother was a timid woman who did nothing but cry, but she doted on her son all the same.
Realizing things couldn’t go on like this, they hatched a wicked plan: they would adopt a child and lock them up at home, someone Theodore Zane could bully all he wanted—so he wouldn’t go beating up other kids anymore.
That adopted child was Cecilia Ye.
On her very first day in the Zhou household, halfway through dinner, Theodore Zane dragged her to the slaughterhouse storehouse and gave her a beating.
She thought she’d done something wrong—maybe she’d eaten too much, or maybe she’d taken a dish her 'older brother' liked.
Later, she learned it didn’t matter. There was no reason at all. The beatings and abuse happened without cause.
After that, they’d lock her up in a cramped, pitch-black room with no windows.
Those were years of darkness without end, and now, the blackness here was awakening memories she thought she’d long buried.
That’s why she felt grateful, truly grateful—for Fu Zhiyé. He was the light in her life.
Quietly, she called his name, over and over.
As if, just by saying it, she could gather enough courage to face the dark once more.
*
Henry Hart stared at the security footage he’d found, expression turning grim.
This... this wasn’t just a simple kidnapping.
Fu Zhiyé tapped open the video on his phone, his gaze growing colder by the second.
He watched as the man shoved Cecilia Ye roughly into a van, then slapped her hard across the face.
A sudden pain gripped Fu Zhiyé’s heart. Cecilia must be terrified.
The phone rang. He picked up immediately.
'Hello, President Foster, did you see the video?'
'Mobilize the entire city,' he snapped. 'Find Cecilia and get her back as soon as possible.'
His voice was like a knife. If he could, Fu Zhiyé would tear to pieces whoever had taken Cecilia Ye.
'Yes, we’re on it... You—'
Henry Hart hesitated, about to ask if Fu Zhiyé would come in person.
Fu Zhiyé glanced over at Vivian Belle, who was still getting stitches. That man in the video looked unsettlingly familiar. An ominous feeling twisted in his chest.
Henry Hart worked quickly, sending people to trace the white van street by street through every camera on its route.
Over at the other end, Theodore Zane swaggered back to the warehouse after stuffing himself, grease shining on his lips.
It had been so long since he'd hit someone. Just thinking about beating Cecilia Ye—watching her tremble and beg for mercy—filled him with glee.
Cecilia Ye sat slumped against the wall. Suddenly, the door was yanked open, then slammed shut.
Footsteps approached. Was it Theodore Zane?
Just the thought of his name made terror surge from the pit of her soul.
Click. A faint sound—the cheap light overhead flickered to life, casting the room in its sickly glow.
Cecilia Ye lifted her eyes. Theodore Zane was walking over slowly.
He looked like a demon.
Theodore Zane grinned as he walked, the scar above his narrow, shifty eyes twitching with every step.
He squatted down and seized her wrist, his grin turning savage. 'Cecilia Ye, looks like you’ve been living the high life all these years, huh?'
She tried to break free, tears shimmering in her eyes, lips trembling.
'But me? I’ve had nothing but misery. Back then, that guy even got me thrown in jail—and made sure someone "looked after" me inside.'
He pointed at the scar on his head. 'See this? Courtesy of your hero.'
'What now? You married him, didn’t you? Think he’ll come rescue you? Didn’t you call him already? So where is he? Why isn’t anyone here yet? Hahaha!'
He laughed horribly, then sent a hard slap down on her.
Cecilia Ye collapsed to the floor, not even caring about the pain in her face—she scrambled forward with all her might.
But her calf was snatched, and she was dragged roughly back.
Fu Zhiyé, will I not make it in time for you to save me?
Why can’t I hate you—even if you don’t come this time?
You’ve already saved me once before. Maybe... I shouldn’t ask for more.
She kicked desperately at the hands holding her, in her panic landing a hit on Theodore Zane.
He spat, blood tangy in his mouth—and only looked more pleased.
He wrenched her around to face him.
Heh. So after all these years, Cecilia Ye had grown up to be quite the beauty.
His vicious gaze turned leering, greedy. 'Cecilia, no need to be scared... Look, you’re all grown up now. I don’t feel like hitting you anymore. How about you make your big brother happy instead?'
Cecilia Ye’s clear eyes widened in utter despair. A strangled scream tore from her lips.
'No! Don’t come near me! Fu Zhiyé—take me home! I want to go home!'
*
Watching as the doctor stitched up Vivian Belle, Fu Zhiyé kneaded his brow in frustration—then suddenly, something clicked.
That person—he finally remembered who it was!
Theodore Zane. He’d actually been released?
Just the thought drove Fu Zhiyé out of his mind.
He knew all too well what that man had done to Cecilia Ye back then. That man was a monster—a total lunatic.
He spun and dashed out of the hospital room, more panicked and rushed than ever before.
Vivian Belle watched that departing figure, the words 'A-Ye' stuck in her throat, unable to call out.
'Henry Hart, that man is Theodore Zane!'
'President Foster, I have the location—I’m on my way now.'
Fu Zhiyé didn’t even slow down as he yanked open the car door and jumped in. 'Where is it?'
'The abandoned warehouse at the the Zane family’s slaughterhouse. I’ll send you the address.'
Hanging up, Fu Zhiyé floored the gas.
Dust kicked up in his wake as he raced toward the place Henry Hart had told him.