Seeking Justice for My Daughter

Outside the window, the typhoon roared like a frenzied beast, intent on tearing the whole world apart. Clutching Fiona, I huddled on the top floor of the abandoned lighthouse. The wind, wrapped in rain, battered the glass fiercely, producing a sharp "clang clang"—each strike felt like a blow to my heart. "Mom, I'm scared." Fiona's voice quivered with tears, her small body still shivering, her tiny hand clutching my shirt hem so tightly her nails dug into the fabric. I stroked her head and held her closer, freeing a hand to pull out my phone, frantically trying to light up the screen. The battery showed just 10% remaining, and the signal bars flickered weakly with only a faint single bar, cutting in and out. "Don't be afraid. Daddy will come to save us." As I comforted Fiona, my fingers trembled searching the contacts for 'Dylan Lewis', my fingertips whitening from the strain as I pressed to call. He is the rescue team leader, familiar with every corner of this sea area. If he wants to, he can definitely find us. The moment the call connected, I nearly shouted, "Dylan Lewis! Fiona and I are at the abandoned lighthouse on the east side! Hurry! We're barely holding on here!" On the other end, there was only the roaring wind and the crashing waves against the rocks. After a long pause, Dylan's voice came through—cold as ice: "Understood. I'm busy with the rescue operation now. I'll get back to you when I'm free." "Get back to you when you're free?" I couldn't believe my ears, my voice breaking, "Today is our fifth wedding anniversary! Do you remember this signal frequency? It's the emergency signal we agreed on back then! How can you say you'll get back to me when you're free?" No sooner had the words left my mouth than the call was abruptly cut off, leaving only the relentless busy signal—'beep beep'—a dull blade cutting into my heart again and again. Unwilling to give up, I quickly opened W Chat and sent my real-time location, hastily recording Fiona's tearful voice shouting, "Daddy, save me," and sent it all at once. But the phone screen flickered on and off, never lighting up again with a new message notification. Fiona's crying grew softer, her small body resting against me as she quietly sobbed. Time slipped by—maybe ten minutes, maybe half an hour—when I faintly heard the roar of a motor downstairs. It's the rescue boat! My eyes suddenly lit up, and I quickly held Fiona tightly, rushing to the window and waving my arms desperately, afraid they wouldn't see us below. "Dylan Lewis! We're here! At the top floor of the lighthouse!" I shouted loudly, my voice rough from prolonged tension and fear. But the rescue boat marked "No. 7" didn't stop; instead, it altered its course and sped toward the distant sea. My heart sank as I hurriedly rummaged through my bag and pulled out the binoculars I had prepared earlier for watching the sea, bringing them up to my eyes. The person in the driver's seat was Dylan Lewis. He wore the rescue team's orange uniform, and I knew his profile all too well. Next to him, in the passenger seat, sat a woman — Melody Scott, the painter who had been frequently approaching Dylan recently under the pretense of "seeking rescue knowledge." The wind carried the voice from the walkie-talkie clearly into my ear: "Boat No. 7, return to base; prioritize Ms. Scott's safety." It was Dylan's voice, cold and calm without a trace of emotion. My heart sank instantly, as if plunged into icy waters, and every breath I took was cold. "Mom, why isn't Dad coming down? Did he not see us?" Fiona tugged at my hand, her little face filled with confusion. Before I could answer, the lighthouse beneath my feet suddenly began to shake violently. Chunks of plaster fell with a soft rustling onto the floor, while the steel beams overhead groaned under the strain with a dreadful creak, as if they were about to snap at any moment. "No!" I clutched Fiona and scrambled to the corner, trying to avoid the falling rubble. But it was already too late—the entire lighthouse toppled sharply toward the sea like a giant pushing over a tower of blocks. A sudden sensation of weightlessness hit me. I held Fiona tight, shielding her head in my arms. "Fiona! Don't be afraid! Mommy's here! Mommy will protect you!" I yelled, tears mingling with the rain as they fell onto Fiona's hair. The seawater swallowed us instantly, icy and bone-chilling cold flooding through me, darkness closing in completely. I felt Fiona's small hand stir gently once in my embrace—and then, nothing.