Chapter 3

The moment he heard the tone, he froze, glared at me, and answered instantly.

His demeanor shifted in a heartbeat, switching to a smooth, sugary tone.

“Chloe, babe! Everything’s set on my end. Just waiting for you. You're going to be the most breathtaking bride in the world today.”

The voice coming from the receiver was etched into my very soul. But unlike the sweet, soft-spoken girl who used to snuggle into my chest, this voice sounded distant, arrogant, and icy.

I opened my mouth to shout, but a groomsman clamped a rough hand over my lips, smothering me as I struggled in vain.

“Oh, by the way, Chloe,” Tyler said, his tone turning sweet and submissive.

“Some pathetic loser showed up in a beat-up car trying to profess his love for you. He was planning to ruin our wedding. How do you want me to handle him?”

“Handle it however you want,” Chloe replied, her tone dripping with casual cruelty. “You have Apex Logistics backing you—what are you afraid of? Just don’t leave a corpse. Actually, even if you do, I’ll clean it up. I’m here.”

Chloe’s arrogance was something I had never heard before.

Perhaps harboring a tiny shred of doubt, Tyler cautiously asked, “Chloe… anyone? No matter who he is?”

Chloe scoffed softly. “Of course. Nobody matters more than you.”

Because in her wildest nightmares, she never could have imagined I would leave my corporate headquarters to show up in this countryside estate.

Tyler smirked down at me, hanging up the phone with pure delight.

Bound hand and foot, I couldn't move. My only card left was the GPS tracking chip embedded in my smart signet ring and backup device.

Unless I gave explicit orders otherwise, my executive security detail and assistant were instructed to track my location and alert law enforcement if I fell off the grid for more than six hours during a business day.

It was a standard protocol I kept for high-stakes corporate kidnappings.

There were roughly two hours left before that window closed. I gritted my teeth and tried to haul myself up.

Tyler held his phone out, chuckling. “You hear that, loser? You’re nobody. Even if I chop you into pieces right now, nobody will bat an eye. You know what that is? That’s what real money can do.”

Looking at his smug grin, my biggest regret was letting my foolish empathy get the better of me back in high school.

Back then, I had just graduated college and taken over the family conglomerate. My father always had a philanthropic habit of funding underprivileged kids.

Tyler’s file showed a boy from a broken, impoverished household. Father locked up for gambling, mother scrubbing floors at an arcade to keep the lights on, battling breast cancer. No funds for school.

I didn't just cover his tuition; I set up a monthly allowance.

Yet he constantly hit up my charity foundation for bizarre extra fees—field trips, private tutoring, extra book charges.

I never doubted him. I paid every invoice.

Until one night, he posted a video partying at an upscale VIP club and forgot to block my foundation account. He deleted it in seconds, but I saw it.

I sent my assistant to investigate. Turns out he had been skipping classes, burning my money on internet cafes, designer sneakers, and nightlife.

I pulled the funding immediately and sent him a blunt letter explaining why.

After that, he and his mother harassed my office for months. But a leopard never changes its spots, so I never gave him another cent.

And now, here he was.

A barrage of heavy kicks slammed into my ribs and back. Pain radiated through every nerve ending in my body.

Spend that much money on a stray dog, and it learns loyalty. Spend it on trash like him, and you get a venomous snake.