THE DISABLED HEIRESS, MY EX-HUSBAND WOULD PAY DEARLY.

At that moment, James adjusted his shirt, exhaled through his nose, and slipped his phone back into his pocket. He took one step forward, determined to shake off the irritation Abigail had left him with. But just as his foot hit the pavement, a black SUV screeched to a halt directly in front of him.

James froze. His brows furrowed immediately. That wasn't just a random car.

Before he could even blink twice, the door of the SUV flung open and three men in black jumped out like trained shadows.

"Hey! What the hell is this—" he barely managed to shout.

But one of the men lunged and grabbed him by the arms with so much force that it knocked him off balance. The others joined in. James struggled, wildly flailing his arms and legs, shouting, "Let go of me! Leave me alone!" But it was no use. These men were stronger, faster and clearly knew what they were doing.

With terrifying precision, one of them pulled out a black cloth sack and yanked it over James's head. Everything went dark.

"Shit!" he cursed under the sack, trying to kick back.

But in a matter of seconds, they lifted him like he weighed nothing and threw him into the back of the van. The door slammed shut. And then silence. No more shouting. No more resistance. Just the dull hum of the engine and the motion of the van as it sped away.

That was the last thing James remembered.

**

Time passed James didn't know how long but slowly, his consciousness began to return. His eyes fluttered beneath the sack. He felt heavy, dazed, like someone had knocked the air out of him. When he finally opened his eyes, the sack clothes was still covering his head.

His head pounded, he blinked a few times and realized he wasn't in the van anymore. He was seated in a chair, a dim light bulb above his head flickering weakly like in some underground facility or warehouse.

He tried to move his legs nothing. He tried to move his arms tied. His wrists and ankles were bound tightly with thick black rope. The chair beneath him creaked as he shifted, confirming what he feared:

He had been kidnapped, his breathing quickened.

Panic started creeping in slowly, but the room was so silent, so cold, and so isolating that it only made everything feel more real.

At that moment, with his hands tied tightly behind the chair and his legs barely able to move, James's breathing grew shallow. His chest rose and fell in quick, panicked bursts. Tears were already streaming down his face, his lips trembling as he muttered in a broken, shaking voice.

"W-What did I do? Why me? What's going on? I don't understand…" he sobbed. "Why would anyone want to hurt me? I've never wronged anyone… I've never crossed any line…"

His voice cracked even more as the emotions flooded through him. "Cora… I know you're behind this," he whispered bitterly, his head dropping forward. "You hit me this hard, Cora? Why? What did I do to deserve this? You took everything from me! Everything! And still… still I came back to beg. I swallowed my pride, I wanted us to talk. I wanted us to fix things… But you won't even look at me…"

The despair in his voice was raw, each word sounding like it tore a piece out of him. He kept ranting, pleading, and weeping all at once his voice rising and falling, bouncing between anger and sorrow. "You said you wanted peace. Was this your idea of peace? To have me dragged off like some criminal? Like a dog?"

Suddenly, the faint sound of footsteps echoed in the distance.

James froze.

Every part of him stiffened. His mouth clamped shut. His head jerked up slowly in the direction of the noise. The footsteps were heavy, firm, and deliberate. Whoever it was, they were not in a hurry. They were walking like someone who had complete control over everything. The air in the warehouse seemed to thicken.

Then…Someone reached behind his head and yanked off the cloth bag.

The light hit his face, and James instinctively flinched, closing his eyes tightly. It took him a few seconds to adjust. His face twisted in discomfort as he blinked rapidly, struggling to make sense of what he was seeing. When his vision finally cleared, he turned his head slowly from side to side.

He was in a wide, dimly lit warehouse. The walls were stained. Rusted metal beams hung low. There were no windows, only high bulbs buzzing faintly. Shadows loomed in the corners.

His heart sank instantly, his eyes landed on a table not far away lined with tools he couldn't even name. Wires. A long metal pipe. Ropes. Duct tape. It looked like something out of a nightmare.

He tried to shift in his seat again but the ropes around his arms and legs held firm.

At that moment, James's whole body went cold.

His eyes, still adjusting to the dim yellow lights that swung above him in the warehouse, were now fixed on the five intimidating men standing nearby. Their expressions were stiff. No emotions. No signs of pity. Their arms were crossed tightly, and they stood like they had done this a hundred times before. He could tell from their posture alone that these weren't regular bodyguards or hired thugs. These were trained men disciplined, dangerous, and not interested in chit-chat.

Fear tightened his chest, he gulped hard, trying to speak. The words got stuck in his throat. He wanted to beg. He wanted to plead. Even scream. But his mouth was too dry, his lips trembling too much to form a proper sentence.

His mind raced as he sat there, bound to the cold metal chair. It can't be Abigail, he thought, shaking his head slightly. No… Abigail needs me alive. She wouldn't go this far, not yet. Not when I haven't done the video. That only left one name on his mind again.

Cora, Yes, it had to be her.

She had taken his job, his reputation, and practically everything. But he never expected she would take it this far. Kidnapping? Warehouse? These men? Why? Why him? What had he done that she hated so much?

"I didn't do anything wrong," James mumbled under his breath, as if hoping someone would hear and believe him. "I just wanted to fix things…"

But his thoughts were cut short.

Footsteps, he heard them slow, steady, echoing through the warehouse floor like a countdown to judgment. James's eyes darted to the large steel door at the far end of the room. Someone was coming.