Chapter 23
After being refused help by Maria, Charles spent the next few days staying at the Smith villa.
Meanwhile, Willow threw herself into completing the project proposal for the Lancaster Group, working overtime consistently.
The night before the submission deadline, she made final revisions until she was satisfied with the result. With a deep exhale, she finally relaxed.
All that remained was submitting the proposal tomorrow and awaiting Sterling's verdict.
After triple-checking all the materials, she shut down her computer and headed downstairs while ordering a ride on her phone.
The building was eerily quiet this late at night.
Stepping outside, Willow was checking when her driver would arrive when she heard hurried footsteps approaching from behind. She instinctively sensed danger, but it was too late.
A hand clamped over her mouth. "Got her! Bring the car around!" the man called to his accomplice.
Willow struggled frantically as the man tightened his grip. "Stay still! Or you'll regret it!"
The night was deep, the streets empty—there was no one to call for help. In her terror, her first thought was still of Charles.
As the man held her at the roadside, Willow managed to dial her emergency contact while simultaneously biting down hard on his hand between the thumb and index finger.
He hissed in pain and loosened his grip.
She turned and ran, her phone still dialing. She'd barely taken two steps when a black car pulled up in front of her. Behind her, the man's footsteps were already at her heels.
"Where do you think you're going?" He grabbed her arm and dragged her toward the car.
Just before being pushed inside, Willow glanced desperately at her phone, hoping Charles would answer.
The call disconnected.
"Boss, she's making a call!" someone noticed the phone in her hand.
The man snatched it away. "If you don't want trouble, behave yourself!" After warning Willow, he ordered his men, "Tie her up!"
His subordinates quickly complied, binding her hands and feet securely as the car drove off into the night.
At the Smith villa, Rachel sat on the edge of the bed, holding Charles's phone. She deleted the recent call log just as Charles emerged from the bathroom.
"Charlie," she purred, her eyes filled with determination.
Charles, wearing only a bathrobe with his hair still wet, walked directly to the bedside and picked up his phone, checking it briefly.
"Did someone call me?" he asked, brow furrowed.
He thought he'd heard his ringtone while in the shower.
Rachel's expression didn't waver. "You must have imagined it. I've been in the room the whole time and didn't hear anything."
Charles checked the call log and found nothing unusual. Yet for some reason, he couldn't shake a feeling of unease.
"It's getting late. Let's go to bed," Rachel smoothly changed the subject, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I'm wearing that lingerie you like."
The car sped along the road, quickly leaving the city behind. Watching the surroundings grow increasingly desolate, Willow's heart pounded with fear.
"What do you want?" she asked, trying to sound calm despite her trembling voice.
"If it's money, let me go and I can arrange something." She attempted to negotiate. "I can pretend this never happened if you just let me go."
The man's gaze met hers through the rearview mirror. "Arrange something? How much could you possibly offer?"
Willow thought she saw a glimmer of hope. "How much do you want?"
The man laughed coldly. "Save it. If you could afford us, you wouldn't be working late at some small company."
As Willow began to respond, he added meaningfully, "Though your husband could probably afford it—but we wouldn't dare take his money."
Willow froze. "You know who I am?"
The man seemed to realize he'd said too much and immediately hardened his expression. "Gag her too!" he ordered.
Willow noticed someone beside her preparing to move and quickly asked, "Who sent you? What do they want? Since you know who my husband is, you should—"
Before she could finish, one of the men slapped duct tape over her mouth.
She tried desperately to communicate through her eyes. Since they knew her identity, they surely wouldn't dare offend the Lancaster family.
Yet they were taking her to such a remote location...
The car eventually pulled into an abandoned factory. The man instructed the driver to stop, then dragged Willow from the car and threw her onto the rough cement ground.
Dressed only in light office attire, she rolled a couple of times, her clothes tearing and her joints scraping raw against the concrete.
She barely registered the pain, looking up at her captors in terror.
"Strip her!" the man commanded, and several subordinates approached.
She desperately tried to back away.
"Mrs. Lancaster, I told you to behave," the man said, stepping closer. "You'll suffer less that way."
His men moved in, roughly tearing at her clothes. Watching them, thinking about what might happen next, Willow's pupils trembled with fear.
Just then, one of the men spoke up.
"Such glowing, delicate skin—truly a noble lady." He swallowed hard. "Boss, since no one's around, why don't we..."
The man glared at him, and the subordinate fell silent.
Willow noticed something in their brief interaction, and some of the fear in her eyes dissipated. They weren't going to assault her—at least not themselves.
Only after her clothes were torn to shreds did the man signal them to stop.
He bent down and patted her cheek. "Don't get too relieved yet. Just because we're not doing anything to you doesn't mean you'll make it through tonight safely."
His voice was thick with threat. "Homeless people love to spend the night here. In your condition, Mrs. Lancaster, I doubt anyone could resist." He straightened up. "Good luck."
With those parting words, the man and his crew departed. Their chaotic footsteps gradually faded, followed by the sound of car starting and driving away.
The air around her suddenly grew still. Willow could even hear tiny pebbles rolling when the night breeze blew.
Remembering the man's final words, these small sounds became terrifying to her ears.
Gritting her teeth, she painfully shifted her body, moving herself into a corner of the warehouse.
Only then did she fully register the stinging pain from her numerous cuts and scrapes, which somehow calmed her tensed nerves and helped her think more clearly.
Fear wouldn't help her now. Even if she could free herself from the ropes, she couldn't possibly walk back to the city in the middle of the night.
She would have to wait until morning. When she didn't show up, Gareth would surely come looking for her—the proposal couldn't be submitted without her.