Arthur swallowed the lump in his throat. He had always worked tirelessly to prove to Isabelle that he was man enough to take care of her. But no matter how hard he tried, it was never enough. Suddenly, a thought struck him. The dress. A small smile crept onto Arthur’s face as he remembered the beautiful gown he had stopped by to buy for Isabelle on his way home. It had cost him his entire savings for the past month, plus the extra earnings from his weekend jobs. He had taken his time selecting it, making sure it was elegant, something she would love. He imagined the surprise and excitement on Isabelle's face when she saw it. Finally, he could prove to Isabelle that he cared. "Isabelle," he said, his voice lighter now, "I have a special gift for you." Without delay, Arthur hurried to the living room, where he had dropped the bag containing the gown before he collapsed on the couch earlier. He picked it up and rushed back to Isabelle, his heart pounding with ant

The grand hall was filled with laughter, clinking glasses, and the lively hum of conversation. Chandeliers glittered overhead, casting golden hues over the lavishly decorated room. A grand stage stood at the front, adorned with cascading floral arrangements and a massive backdrop that read: Happy Birthday, Isabelle! The air was thick with the aroma of exotic dishes—from roasted duck to seafood platters and golden-crusted pastries. Guests, dressed in their finest attire, indulged in expensive wine and champagne, reveling in the extravagance of the night. At the far end of the hall, away from the dazzling spectacle, Arthur sat alone in a dimly lit corner. His suit was old and slightly worn out and the fabric faded from years of use. He knew better than to mingle with the guests, for Isabelle and her family never missed an opportunity to humiliate him, especially in public. As he stared at the untouched glass of wine before him, he heard the sharp clatter of heels app

Arthur approached the building with cautious steps, his instincts on high alert. The place was a rugged, decayed structure, barely standing under years of neglect. The walls were cracked, exposing layers of peeling paint and mold, while the wooden door hung loosely on rusted hinges. The faint flicker of light from inside barely illuminated the grimy floor, littered with cigarette butts and broken glass. A strong stench of dampness, alcohol, and sweat filled the air, making Arthur’s stomach churn. He reached the door and turned the handle—it was unlocked. Carefully, he pushed it open and slipped inside unnoticed. The living room was dimly lit, with an old, flickering bulb casting eerie shadows on the walls. The furniture was torn, and empty beer bottles were scattered across the floor. A cracked television sat in the corner, creating a low, unsettling buzz. In the middle of the room, five burly men stood in a circle, grinning wickedly at the terrified young w

The ambulance arrived at Bridge Hospital, one of the most prestigious medical institutions in Dalton City. The hospital was known for its world-class medical facilities, cutting-edge technology, and highly skilled doctors. Only the wealthiest and most influential people in the region could afford treatment here. As soon as the young woman stepped out of the ambulance, the hospital staff sprang into action. Doctors, nurses, and medical personnel hurried about, obeying her every command without hesitation. The woman was Karen Darwin, the second daughter of the Darwin family—a name that commanded power and respect across the Hendille Region and beyond! The Darwins owned multiple business empires, including real estate, finance, oil, and telecommunications. Their net worth stretched into billions of dollars, making them one of the most powerful families in the entire country. Karen didn’t care about any of that right now. The only thing that mattered was ensuring that the st

Harriet and Isabelle sat in the cold, damp room, where they had been held hostage, with their wrists tightly bound with thick ropes. The ropes had cut into their delicate skin, leaving angry red marks. The stench of mold and sweat filled the air, making it hard to breathe. The kidnappers barely fed them, tossing stale bread and dirty water at them as if they were animals. One of the men, a towering figure with a scar running down his cheek, paced before them. He had been the cruelest, delighting in their suffering. “Please,” Harriet pleaded, her voice hoarse. “Let us go. We have the money. Just tell us where to send it, and this will be over.” Isabelle, usually so composed, was on the verge of tears. “Yes! We’ll pay whatever you want. Just don’t hurt us.” The scarred man let out a cruel laugh. “You think we’ll just take the money and let you go? No. We’re keeping you here until we’re sure the money’s in our hands. You rich folks always try to trick people l