Chapter265 Kidnapped

Chapter265 Kidnapped
When Miranda came back to consciousness, she was lying on a floor. Cold, hard stone. The smell of mildew pressed in from all sides.
She moved her head and a sharp pain shot through the back of her neck, and everything before the blackout came rushing back.
Someone on the car had hit her across the back of the neck. Hard enough that the lights had simply gone out.
The hood was gone, but it was still dim. A thin trickle of light was enough to tell her the space was small and enclosed.
Her hands were bound behind her back, rope cutting into both wrists.
She set her jaw against the aching in her body and worked herself upright, pushing against the wall behind her until she was on her feet.
The room was maybe fifteen square meters, completely empty except for her. The air was damp with the smell of wet earth. The walls were cold and rough under her hands.
Underground. Some kind of basement.
She craned her neck to look at the rope around her wrists. Thick coarse rope. Getting free by pulling wasn't going to work.
Miranda took a slow breath and pressed her wrists against the rough surface of the wall. She started rubbing.
One stroke. Two.
The concrete tore at the rope, and at her skin. The pain came quickly, sharp and burning. She kept going.
Who had taken her?
Her stomach had been hollow with hunger for a while now. Her body felt cold. It had to be late afternoon by now, five or six hours since they had grabbed her on the road.
Had Mia noticed anything was wrong? Had her brother?
--
Three o'clock in the afternoon, at the Prescott Group.
Celeste swept into the lobby wearing enormous sunglasses and her sharpest heels.
Prescott was in the hospital, her people were watching his door, and no one was getting near him.
Miranda should be in Isabella's hands by now.
As for Mia and Clifton's people, she had already sent them off in every direction under Miranda's name, each one chasing some invented urgent business matter. None of them would be back for hours.
Everyone who could have stopped her had been cleared from the board.
After today, the Prescott Group would be hers.
The elevator opened on the top floor.
Celeste smoothed her skirt, lifted her chin, and pushed open the door to the most powerful office in the company as if she owned it.
Because she did now.
She walked to Clifton's desk and sank into his chair with both arms spread wide, leaning back.
It was enormous. At least five times the size of the office Prescott had ever given her.
She gave the room one satisfied sweep, then got up and started pulling open every drawer and cabinet she could find.
The company seal. That was what she needed.
Find the Prescott Group seal and Clifton's personal stamp, bring out the share transfer agreement she had already prepared, and every stake in this company, Prescott's and Clifton's both, would belong to her alone.
Her hands moved faster as she thought about it.
--
Back in the basement.
Miranda hissed through her teeth.
The skin on her wrists had torn open. Blood mixed with sweat, and the combination of pain and rawness was making her hands shake.
She had no idea how long she had been at it. Her whole arms had gone to a dull, heavy ache.
But almost a third of the rope had frayed through.
It was possible.
Then she heard it.
Footsteps on the stairs above her. A heel striking concrete, steady and unhurried, growing louder.
Someone was coming down.
Miranda swept the space with her eyes and moved fast, retreating to the corner she had started in and pulling her knees up, eyes closed, playing unconscious.
The door scraped open on rusted hinges.
Light hit her through her eyelids. She kept them almost shut and looked through the narrowest gap she could manage toward the doorway.
A bodyguard-type stood in the entrance.
Behind him, a familiar figure walked in slowly.
The moment Miranda made out that face, her stomach dropped.
Isabella.
It landed all at once. The Martinezes must have brought Isabella back from abroad after hearing about what happened to Clifton.
She knew exactly how much Isabella hated her. Getting out of this room was not going to be simple.
Isabella glanced at her, seemed mildly irritated that she was still apparently unconscious, and said something to the bodyguard over her shoulder.
The man left and came back with a bucket.
Isabella took it from him and, without any hesitation at all, upended the entire thing over Miranda.
Ice cold water hit her from head to toe.
Miranda's whole body jolted. But her first thought was not the cold. It was the phone tucked against her skin inside her inner pocket.
Please still work. Please.
She knew she couldn't pretend anymore. She let her eyes open slowly, with effort, like someone fighting back to the surface.
"Awake?"
Isabella looked down at her with a smile that had cruelty and pleasure wound together in it. She dropped the bucket and walked forward until she was standing directly over Miranda.
"Surprised to see me?" Her voice was sharp and light. "I'm the one who had you brought here."
She crouched and grabbed Miranda's jaw, forcing her head up.
"You ruined my life. You got me thrown out of the country. I had to live like nothing over there. And you had Clifton break my hand."
She shoved her damaged hand toward Miranda's face.
"You're going to pay for every single bit of it. A hundred times over."
Miranda held Isabella's gaze and kept her voice as level as she could despite the pain.
"You worked with Celeste on this, didn't you?"