My ten-year-old daughter was kidnapped. The kidnappers demanded a $5 million ransom, or they'd kill her. In the video they sent, my daughter's face was streaked with tears, beaten black and blue, her voice hoarse as she cried for her mommy to save her. Seeing the video, my mother-in-law was overcome with grief, nearly fainting. My husband and sister-in-law were practically bouncing off the walls, looking like they wanted to tear the kidnappers limb from limb. But me, the one who should have been the most frantic – her biological mother – I was strangely calm. Not only was I leisurely sitting in the study reading a book, I even slowly brewed myself a cup of tea. My husband knelt before me, pleading anxiously, "Honey! There's not much time! If we don't get the money together soon, our daughter will die!" I replied coolly, "Whoever wants to scrape the money together can go ahead. It has nothing to do with me."
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