On the bed, Jaxon froze when he saw unfamiliar men in black suits pouring into the room. He sat up, his eyes cold and filled with anger. "Who the fuck are you guys?" he barked out loud.
His eyes flicked toward the door. "Mark! John!" he shouted, calling for his men. There was no answer. One of the guards looked at Abigail, who was lying on the bed, and nodded to the others.
"Grab the girl," one of the men ordered, nodding toward Abigail.
Jaxon was stunned, and so was Abigail.
Take her? Take who?
Were these men talking about her? She wondered as fear and uncertainty filled her.
A flicker of confusion passed over Jaxon's face, but when he saw those men approaching the bed to grab Abigail, his confusion was quickly replaced by rage. His jaw clenched, and he stepped down from the bed. "I don't care who sent you. You've got three seconds to—"
He didn't get to finish his threat.
The men surged forward without hesitation. It happened all too fast. The first blow cracked across his jaw, snapping his head to the side. He staggered but recovered quickly, snarling as he fought back. His punch landed hard, but it wasn't enough.
He was one man against many, and they didn't fight fair. They quickly overpowered him with brute force. Fists flew, and a table crashed. Grunts, gasps, and muffled curses filled the room.
Meanwhile, curled up in a ball, Abigail trembled violently. She couldn't see what was happening, but the chaos around her was terrifying.
"You bastards! You'll regret—argh!" Jaxon's voice broke into a scream of pain, followed by a sickening thud as if he had crashed into something hard. And then, silence filled the room.
Abigail's breath hitched. Her heart beat so fast it drowned everything else out. She pressed herself against the velvet headboard, her fingers clawed at the blanket wrapped around her body as if that could protect her. Her mind raced with questions.
Who were these people? What did they want? What had happened to Jaxon?
The silence in the room was suffocating. Her thoughts spiraled as fear choked her. Suddenly, a hand grabbed her arm. She gasped, her entire body tensing. "No—please! Don't hurt me! Let me go! Jaxon! Jaxon!" she screamed, her entire body convulsing in terror.
The grip didn't loosen. She kicked, flailed, and scratched blindly. Her nails scraped against someone's rough skin. Her legs lashed out, desperate, but it was all useless.
Tears streaked down her cheeks. "Please! I didn't do anything! I didn't—"
But her desperate pleas fell on deaf ears. At this moment, she heard another rough voice. "Boss," the person spoke, "We found her."
She froze. Before she could comprehend what he meant, she felt something cold and metallic being pressed against the back of her neck. She didn't even have time to react before everything went black.
"Put her in the car."
Abigail's limp body was lifted gently, as though she were a precious object. Her pale face rested against the shoulder of one of the suited men as they carried her past Jaxon's unconscious form. Not even a glance was spared for the man who had once ruled this house.
They took her out of the mansion, down the long stone steps, and placed in the backseat of a sleek black car. The vehicle started immediately, gliding into the night without a sound. It cut through the sleeping city, heading toward the unknown.
Far away from Jaxon.
Far away from everything she had ever known.
Somewhere in the same town, behind tall gates and thick walls, warm lights glowed from the windows of a big, fancy house. Inside, a tall man stood facing a floor-to-ceiling window, his back to the room. One hand rested in his pocket, the other held a crystal glass filled with whiskey he hadn't touched.
He stood still, silent, watching the moonlight as though lost in thought.
"Are you really doing this?" came a voice from behind.
Ethan didn't answer right away. His jaw clenched, and he swallowed hard. "Yes."
"Once you bring her in, there's no turning back," the voice continued.
"It's not like I have another choice," Ethan answered.
Ian, his childhood friend and closest confidant, stepped beside him. "You're playing with fire. What if it backfires? What if your grandfather finds out?"
Ethan's voice was calm. "He won't."
Before Ian could press further, a guard entered and bowed. "Sir. The girl is here. She's in the guest room."
Ethan's grip on the whiskey glass tightened for a second. Then, he placed it down and straightened his suit jacket. With a brief nod, he gestured for Ian to follow. "Let's go."
They walked down the hallway to a quiet room. Inside, a woman lay unconscious on a couch, wrapped tightly in a thick blanket. Her chest rose and fell slowly with each breath. Her long hair was tangled, her face pale from stress and fear. But even in her current state, her beauty was undeniable.
The moment Ethan's eyes landed on her, he froze. Even though he had seen photos of her before, nothing could prepare him for the real thing.
Her face... her features...
She looked exactly like her. Too much like her.
Vanessa. His runaway wife.
He could already hear his grandfather's voice calling her name—and he'd make sure she responded.
Ian walked in behind him. The moment he saw Abigail, he let out a low whistle and rubbed the back of his neck. "Damn.... she's a perfect match. I feel like I am living in a stupid rom-com movie."
Ethan said nothing. He simply stared at her. She looked fragile, innocent, completely unaware of what was happening and what was about to happen.
"Wake her," he ordered.
A guard stepped forward, grabbed a jug from the side table, and poured cold water over Abigail's face. The shock of the cold liquid pulled her from the depths of unconsciousness. She gasped sharply, her eyes flying open with a terrified scream stuck in her throat.
Her whole body jerked as she sat up, confusion clouding her gaze. Her hands flew out, blindly searching. Her breathing came in harsh bursts as she twisted around, disoriented. "Where…?"
Where was she?
Where did those men bring her?
Why did they kidnap her? What could they possibly get from a blind girl like her?
And, what about Jaxon? What happened to him?
She had so many questions. The couch beneath her felt soft and luxurious. But the blanket on her body was the same, the one she had picked from Jaxon's room. Her chest tightened with anxiety. "H-Hello?" she called out softly. "Is anyone there? W-why have you kidnapped me?"
Ethan stared at her calmly, "From this moment on, you belong to me."