As the car sped toward the restaurant, I tapped out a quick message to my boyfriend Lewis: On my way. Can’t wait to see you! I love you.

But he didn’t reply. My excitement simmered with a hint of worry as I stared at the blank screen. Usually, he was quick to respond, especially on nights like this. I tried to reassure myself, brushing it off as pre-proposal nerves. After all, I’d overheard his men talking about the ring he bought last week. After three years together, tonight had to be the night.

I smoothed my dress again, feeling like I was balancing between excitement and the unknown. The restaurant he’d picked was where we’d celebrated our first anniversary—a place brimming with memories. I could already picture him waiting there, his sharp suit perfectly tailored, a glint of anticipation in his eyes as he prepared for the big moment. I’d rehearsed my reaction a hundred times: the gasp, the teary-eyed yes. I could hardly sit still as I imagined it.

But as we turned down a narrow street, the car suddenly jolted, breaking my reverie. “What’s going on?” I asked, gripping the edge of the seat as Marcus slammed the brakes. We had stopped in the middle of a dark, empty street, the only light coming from a dim streetlamp overhead.

Marcus frowned, his gaze shifting to the rearview mirror. “Please stay here, Miss Stephanie.”

Before I could respond, two figures emerged from the shadows—men dressed in black, their faces hidden by masks. My pulse raced as I leaned forward. “Marcus, don’t go out there!” I whispered urgently, my stomach churning with fear.

Ignoring my plea, he tried to throw the car in reverse, but it was too late. One of the men pounded on the hood while the other wrenched Marcus’ door open. I screamed, watching helplessly as they dragged him out, throwing him to the ground with brutal force.

My hands fumbled for the door lock, but the passenger door flew open before I could secure it. Gloved hands grabbed me, pulling me out of the car. I screamed, struggling wildly, but his grip was like iron, unyielding. I kicked, scratched, and twisted, desperate to break free, but it was no use.

“Let go of me!” I screamed, my voice echoing down the empty street. “What do you need? Why are you doing this to me?”

One of the men scoffed, tightening his grip. “Quit fighting, princess. You’re just making it harder on yourself.”

“No! I will not come with you!” I yelled. “My boyfriend is waiting for me. Let me go! Help! I need help!”

I spotted an opening—a brief second where his grip loosened—and I wrenched free, stumbling toward an alley. My heart thundered as I ran, hoping I could make it to safety. But I barely managed a few steps before a heavy force slammed into me from behind, sending me crashing to the ground. Pain shot through my palms as they scraped against the rough pavement.

Before I could get up, they were on me again, iron grips hauling me back to my feet. I thrashed, kicking and screaming, but it was like fighting against a wall.

“Get her in the car already,” one of them barked.

A fist drove into my stomach, and I doubled over, gasping for air, my vision blurring.

One last blow struck the side of my head, pain exploding behind my eyes as the world tilted. I hit the ground, darkness closing in, and the last thing I heard was the dull echo of my body hitting the pavement as everything went black.

I woke up with a throbbing pain in my head, my body stiff and cold. It took a moment for the fog in my mind to clear, and when it did, I wished it hadn't. The first thing I noticed was the smell—a pungent mix of oil, rust, and damp concrete. My wrists and ankles were bound, the rough rope biting into my skin, and I was sitting on a cold metal chair.

I blinked against the dim light, the murky outline of an old warehouse coming into focus. My heart pounded as I struggled against the ropes, wincing as the coarse fibers burned against my skin. I tugged harder, hoping they’d give, but they held firm. My body was sore from being thrown around, but the pain was nothing compared to the fear tightening in my chest.

A door creaked open behind me, and I froze.

Footsteps echoed across the concrete floor—slow. I craned my neck to see two men approaching. Their faces were hidden beneath ski masks, their dark clothing blending into the shadows of the warehouse. The taller one stood a few feet away, arms crossed, while the shorter one squatted down in front of me, his eyes hard and cold behind the mask.

“Call him,” the shorter man ordered, his voice rough and unforgiving.

I swallowed hard, confusion clouding my mind. “Call who?” I asked, my voice hoarse.

“Don’t play dumb,” he snapped, thrusting a phone into my face. “Lewis. Tell him we’ve got you, and he better pay if he wants to see you again.”

Lewis.

My heart skipped a beat. Of course. This was about Lewis. He was the heir to the Gudecelli family, one of the most powerful mafia dynasties in the city. This wasn’t the first time his enemies had tried to get to him through those he loved, and now I was here.

With trembling hands, I took the phone, my fingers slick with sweat as I dialed his number. The phone rang once, twice, three times. My breath hitched, the fear swelling inside me. Come on, Lewis, pick up.

The line clicked, and my heart lifted for a brief moment, but then—

“Hello?” It wasn’t Lewis.

I froze, the blood draining from my face. It was a woman’s voice, smooth and familiar. Too familiar.

“Candice?” I whispered, barely able to keep my voice steady.

“Stephanie,” she said, her tone laced with cold amusement. “What’s going on? It’s late.”

My mind reeled. Why was Candice answering Lewis’ phone? I forced the words out, my throat tight. “Where’s Lewis? I need to talk to him—it’s important.”

A light laugh escaped her, chilling me to the core. “Oh, sweetie. Lewis is busy right now.”

“Busy?” I repeated, my voice cracking. “Busy with what?”

There was a pause on the other end, and I could hear the faint sound of fireworks in the background. “We’re watching fireworks by the sea,” she said, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “It’s been a beautiful evening.”

My stomach twisted, bile rising in my throat. I tried to process what she was saying, but the words didn’t make sense. Lewis was with her? Watching fireworks while I was tied up in a warehouse, begging for help?

“Put him on the phone, Candice,” I demanded, desperation creeping into my voice. “Please, I need to talk to him.”

Candice’s laugh echoed in my ears, sharp and cutting. “Oh, Stephanie,” she sighed, as if speaking to a child who just didn’t understand. “He doesn’t care about you anymore. You really thought you were that important to him?”

Her words hit like a punch to the gut. My mouth went dry, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. This had to be some kind of mistake. Lewis loved me. We were supposed to spend my birthday together. He had bought a ring.

My heart shattered. The world seemed to tilt, and for a moment, I thought I might pass out again. “No,” I whispered, shaking my head as tears blurred my vision. “You’re lying. Please, I need help. I was kidnapped and they—-”

Candice’s voice turned icy. “I don’t have time for this. Enjoy your birthday, Stephanie. Lewis is done with you.”

The line went dead.

Candice’s words kept replaying in my head, each time like a stab to the heart. He’s with me, watching fireworks. He doesn’t care about you anymore. The shock of hearing her voice on the other end of the line had frozen me in place, but it shouldn’t have. Maybe deep down, I had always suspected something. There had always been something between them—whispers I chose to ignore, signs I was too blind to see.

For years, I had convinced myself that Candice was just his childhood friend, nothing more. After all, that’s what Lewis always told me. But the way they looked at each other, the lingering touches, the inside jokes that I was never part of… It was all there, right in front of me. And I didn’t want to believe it.

I was so desperate to hold onto the idea that Lewis loved me—that I was the one who had his heart. But now? Now it was clear. She wasn’t just in the background. She was in the spotlight.

"Call him again," one of the kidnappers growled, snapping me out of my daze.

I looked up, my vision blurry from unshed tears. The two men stood over me, their faces hidden behind black masks. They were growing impatient. I could feel it in the way they loomed closer, their body language tense. But what was the point? What good would it do? Lewis didn’t care. I was alone.

“I told you,” I said, my voice trembling. “He’s not coming.”

The shorter one sneered, his hand tightening around the phone as he thrust it toward me again. “Try anyway.”

I hesitated, my fingers barely able to move as I took the phone from him. My heart raced, though I couldn’t say whether it was from fear or heartbreak. The dial tone felt like a countdown, each ring pulling me deeper into the realization that this was real—that the man I loved had abandoned me.

Finally, the ringing stopped. But instead of Candice’s voice, this time it was Lewis.

“Lewis, I—” I stammered, fighting through the lump in my throat. “Where are you right now? Please—"

He cut me off with a sigh. “Look, I’m in the middle of something important. I don’t have time for this.”

Something important? I blinked, stunned by how casually he dismissed me.

He interrupted again, impatience leaking into his tone. “If it’s about your birthday, I’ll make it up to you later. I forgot to tell you so don’t wait for me anymore. I’m handling business right now, Stephanie. Don’t call me again.”

The line went dead.

I sat there, staring at the phone in my lap, my mind struggling to process what had just happened. He’ll make it up to me? That’s all he had to say? He didn’t even care enough to ask where I was, to ask if I was okay.

The icy truth wrapped itself around my heart. My breath hitched, and I fought the overwhelming urge to cry.

The kidnappers exchanged glances, growing more impatient with every second that passed.

“You heard it. There’s no point in keeping me here.”

For a moment, they both stood there, their faces hidden behind masks of indifference. The shorter one pulled out his phone, his thumb scrolling quickly through the screen. He frowned as something caught his attention, then turned it to the taller one, muttering something under his breath.

The phone’s bright screen flashed in front of my face, and there it was—the final nail in the coffin of whatever fantasy I had clung to. A viral post. Lewis and Candice. Candice, his so-called “childhood friend.” The two of them sitting on a blanket by the sea, watching fireworks light up the night sky. Their faces were lit with the warm glow of the explosions, smiling, wrapped in each other’s arms.

Fireworks. He had told me he was handling business. And here he was, with her. Candice.

The taller kidnapper scoffed, tossing the phone onto the nearby table with a sneer. “Looks like we got the wrong girl.”

The shorter one shrugged, his voice thick with annoyance. “She’s useless to us.”

I didn’t flinch when they started untying the ropes around my wrists. My entire body felt numb, my mind in a fog, too broken to react to anything around me. They yanked me to my feet, dragging me across the cold concrete floor toward the door.

I didn’t struggle. What was the point? Lewis wasn’t coming. The man I thought loved me had left me here to rot, all while he watched fireworks with another woman. The woman he really cared about.

They shoved me into the back of a car, the door slamming shut behind me. The ride felt endless, the sound of tires against the road blending into the swirling thoughts in my head. Then the car screeched to a halt.

The door opened, and rough hands dragged me out, my knees hitting the gravel road beneath me with a painful thud. They didn’t bother saying a word before they sped off, leaving me alone and cold on the deserted roadside.