Loyce knew she couldn't linger. She scooped the girl up, shielding her against her chest to block the flying debris and toxic dust, and carefully navigated toward the safe zone.
"Gaia! Gaia!"
A woman, who had been separated by the stampede, finally pushed her way back into the hall, screaming her daughter's name hoarsely.
It wasn't until the girl in Loyce's arms cried out for her mother that they finally reunited amidst the chaos. Loyce handed the child over. Before the weeping parents could even finish their incoherent stream of gratitude, Loyce turned to go look for her brother.
But just as she was about to leave, a faint yet piercing cry for help drifted through the haze, echoing from the edge of the pitch-black crater.
"H-Help... Mom! Pull me up... please, don't leave me..."
The voice was broken, dripping with sheer terror and despair.
Loyce paused, her eyes locking onto the source. She grabbed a discarded napkin, soaked it with water, pressed it over her face, and cautiously approached the sinkhole.
Clinging to a cracked, precarious ledge of concrete on the very edge of the toxic abyss was a hand sporting nude nail polish and an expensive diamond bracelet. Following the scratched, bruised arm downward, she saw none other than Sybil Seabrook.
More than half of Sybil's body was dangling in midair. She was hanging on by one hand and a tiny foothold. Below her was nothing but the consuming darkness and rising plumes of poisonous gas.
When Sybil looked up and saw that the person answering her cries was Loyce, her eyes widened, and a profound wave of hopelessness washed over her.
As she fell, she had clearly seen her mother standing just feet away. She was certain her mother had seen both her and Horace plummet toward the pit. Her mother was supposed to save her. But where was she?
Why was Loyce the one standing here?
"Where's my mom?" Sybil whispered, her voice trembling violently.
When Loyce arrived, she hadn't seen a single soul near the edge of the crater. The silent confirmation in Loyce's eyes completely shattered Sybil.
Her parents had known she was falling, and they had abandoned her to save themselves.
The brutal realization hit her. From the very beginning, her entire life had been nothing but a pawn manipulated by her parents. There was no maternal love, no familial warmth. It was all a facade. Once a pawn outlived its usefulness, it was tossed aside.
Now that the A7 and A8 parcels had turned into a catastrophe, she had been drained of her final ounce of value. She was completely useless.

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