Chapter 4

"If your wife, Chloe, isn't happy with the exchange, we can't guarantee what will happen to your side piece."

Chloe? Me?

But I was dead! How could I have kidnapped Vivian?

Julian's face went pale, then flushed with rage. He grabbed his coat and bolted out the door.

"Chloe... you smart little bitch. You really need to be taught a lesson!"

He dialed my number repeatedly, but it went straight to voicemail every time.

"Since you want to play dirty and kidnap Vivian, don't blame me for what I do to your parents!"

He slammed his foot on the gas, and his sports car roared down the street.

I flew after him, screaming at him to stop, but he couldn't hear me.

Julian arrived at a modest, older apartment complex on the outskirts of the city. He kicked the front door open, confronting my startled father.

"Where is Chloe? Did she kidnap Vivian? Hand her over right now!"

My father stared at him, utterly confused, but tried to remain calm.

"I was about to ask you where Chloe is! We haven't heard from her all day."

"Today is my birthday. She never misses my birthday. How could she possibly be kidnapping anyone?"

My mother rushed over, her face pale with worry.

"Julian, what's going on? Chloe hasn't called us. Has something happened to our baby girl?"

But Julian didn't believe a word. He shoved my father backward.

He tore through the small apartment, throwing drawers and kicking down closet doors, finding nothing.

Losing his mind, he grabbed my elderly father by the collar and slammed him against the wall.

My mother screamed, trying to pull Julian away, but he violently pushed her aside. She stumbled, her forehead striking the sharp corner of the dining table. Blood immediately began to pour down her face.

"If you don't tell me where Vivian is, I will beat both of you to death!"

"Julian, stop! I didn't kidnap her! Leave my parents alone!"

I threw myself at him, screaming, crying, trying to claw at his eyes. But my hands kept passing through him.

"I beg you, please! They are old! Let them go!"

Blinded by fury, Julian signaled his bodyguards. "Trash the place. Make them talk."

The heavy-set men began kicking and punching my elderly parents.

Julian pulled out his phone and started recording a video.

"Chloe, look at this," he sneered into the camera.

"If you keep hiding, I'll make sure your parents don't survive the night."

I floated beside my battered parents, watching them writhe in pain on the floor. My soul felt like it was being ripped into shreds.

Driven to absolute despair, my father grabbed my bleeding mother's hand.

With one final, desperate look at the apartment, he dragged her toward the open window and jumped.

Just then, a bodyguard ran into the apartment, holding his phone out.

"Sir! Something's wrong! Your wife..."