Kidnapping

"So cold," Lia muttered. 

The village was cloaked in a serene quiet that only deepened as dusk settled. Lia tightened her scarf around her neck, clutching a small stack of borrowed books against her chest as she walked along the dirt path leading home.

The night air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of pine and distant woodsmoke, and the only sound accompanying her was the crunch of her boots against the gravel.

She had spent a peaceful evening at the village library, poring over books on famous artists and techniques that might inspire her next painting. The librarian, a kind woman named Ms. Agatha, had let her linger longer than usual.

Lia had left with a promise to return the borrowed treasures soon, her heart lighter than it had been in weeks.

But now, walking alone under the dim light of the crescent moon, that lightness began to dissipate.

The path was eerily quiet, with not even the rustle of leaves to break the silence. Lia quickened her pace, feeling an inexplicable unease creep up her spine. She reminded herself that this was her home—her safe, quiet village where she had walked this route countless times without a second thought.

Yet, tonight felt different.

A low rumble of an engine in the distance made her pause. She glanced over her shoulder, her grip tightening on the books. A black car was approaching, its headlights cutting through the darkness like sharp blades.

It slowed as it neared her, the tires crunching against the gravel.

Lia’s pulse quickened. She took a step off the path, moving closer to the trees, hoping the car would simply pass. But it didn’t. The vehicle came to a stop just ahead of her, the engine idling ominously.

The driver’s door opened, and a tall man in a dark coat stepped out. Lia couldn’t make out his face in the shadows, but his presence was enough to send her heart racing.

“Miss Tan,” the man said, his voice low and steady.

Lia froze, her instincts screaming at her to run. “Who are you?” she managed, her voice trembling.

“I’m afraid you’ll need to come with us,” he said, taking a step closer.

“Us?” she repeated, her voice barely a whisper.

Before she could react, the back doors of the car swung open, and two more men emerged. They moved swiftly, their heavy boots crunching against the gravel as they closed the distance between them.

“Wait—what are you doing?” Lia’s voice cracked as she backed away, her books falling to the ground with a muffled thud.

One of the men lunged toward her, and she screamed, twisting out of his grasp. She turned to run, but another man caught her by the arm, yanking her back with brutal force.

“Let me go!” she cried, struggling against their grip.

Her heart pounded wildly, her vision blurring as panic overtook her. She kicked and clawed, desperate to break free, but they were too strong.

The first man stepped closer, his face finally illuminated by the car’s headlights. He wore an emotionless expression, his eyes cold and unyielding. “It’ll be easier if you don’t fight.”

Lia didn’t stop. She screamed into the night, hoping someone—anyone—might hear her.

But the village was too far, and the quiet countryside swallowed her cries.

The last thing she saw was the glint of the car’s dark windows as they forced her inside.

The door slammed shut, the engine roared to life, and the vehicle disappeared into the night, leaving nothing but a scattered pile of books behind.

Lia’s head throbbed as she stirred awake, her body heavy and her vision blurred. The softness beneath her was unfamiliar—too plush, too extravagant for the modest cot in her room.

She blinked against the dim light filtering through gauzy curtains, the unfamiliar scent of lavender and polished wood assaulting her senses.

Her heart skipped a beat as realization dawned: this wasn’t home.

Bolting upright, she glanced around the room. It was massive and opulent, with high ceilings, intricate chandeliers, and walls adorned with abstract paintings that looked like they belonged in a museum. The bed she sat on was a four-poster draped in silk, its sheets impossibly smooth beneath her trembling fingers.

A cold dread settled in her chest. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpet.

“Where am I?” she whispered, her voice hoarse and dry.

The events of the night before came rushing back in fragmented flashes: the men, the car, her struggles, and then—nothing. Her hand flew to her neck, her fingers brushing against a faint soreness that hinted at how she’d been subdued.

She was drugged.

The door to the room creaked open, and Lia froze. A tall woman in a pristine black dress stepped inside, her sharp features framed by a neat bun. She carried a tray of food, her expression stoic and unreadable.

“Good, you’re awake,” the woman said, setting the tray on a small table near the window.

“Where am I?” Lia demanded, her voice shaking. “Who are you? What is this place?”

The woman straightened, her hands clasped in front of her. “You’re in Mr. Casella’s residence. He’ll be with you shortly.”

Lia’s blood ran cold at the mention of Vincent’s name. She stood abruptly, her legs unsteady. “I need to leave. You can’t keep me here.”

The woman didn’t flinch. “I’m afraid that’s not up to me, Miss Tan. Please eat something and rest. Mr. Casella insists that you’re treated well.”

“Treated well?” Lia repeated, her voice rising. “I was kidnapped! I want to go home!”

The woman gave her a measured look, then turned to leave. “It would be best if you remained calm. The more you resist, the harder this will be for you.”

The door clicked shut behind her, the sound reverberating through the luxurious prison. Lia rushed to the door, twisting the handle, but it didn’t budge. She pounded on the wood, shouting until her voice gave out.

Collapsing against the door, tears streamed down her face. Her chest heaved as she struggled to make sense of what was happening. How could this be real? What did Vincent want from her?

The oppressive silence of the room only deepened her despair. She wiped her face and forced herself to her feet. She had to find a way out.

Lia approached the window, pulling back the heavy curtains. Her breath caught in her throat. Beyond the glass was a sprawling estate, its manicured gardens stretching as far as the eye could see. Tall iron gates loomed in the distance, guarded by uniformed men.

She was trapped.

A sudden knock at the door made her spin around. Before she could respond, it opened, and Vincent stepped inside.

“Good evening, Lia,” he said smoothly, his dark eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

Lia backed away, her fists clenched at her sides. “What do you want from me?”

Vincent closed the door behind him, leaning casually against it. He was dressed impeccably, his tailored suit and polished shoes a stark contrast to the raw fear in her eyes.

“I’ve been thinking about you for quite some time,” he said, his tone as casual as if they were old friends. “I couldn’t let you slip away.”

“Let me go,” Lia said, her voice trembling but firm. “I don’t belong here. I don’t belong to you.”

Vincent’s smile was thin, cold. “That’s where you’re wrong, Lia. You belong exactly where I say you do.”

Her breath hitched as he took a step closer. “You’re insane,” she spat.

He chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. “Perhaps. But I always get what I want.”

Lia’s defiance faltered as his gaze bore into hers. She took another step back, her hands shaking. “You can’t do this. Someone will come looking for me.”

Vincent tilted his head, feigning curiosity. “Do you think so? In time, perhaps. But by then, it’ll be far too late.”

The finality in his words sent a shiver down her spine. Lia realized with chilling certainty that this man wouldn’t stop until he had broken her.

But she wouldn’t let him.

Swallowing her fear, Lia met his gaze with newfound determination. “You’ll regret this,” she said, her voice steady despite the tears threatening to spill.

Vincent’s smirk widened. “We’ll see about that.”

Lia’s breaths were shallow and uneven as she tried to steady herself. She paced the luxurious room, running her fingers along the walls and furniture, searching for any sign of weakness—a way out. But everything was solid, unyielding, just like the man who had brought her here.

Her frustration boiled over as she grabbed a porcelain vase from the bedside table and hurled it against the door. The crash was satisfying, but it did little to quell the panic rising within her.

The lock clicked again, and the door swung open. Two men stepped inside, their expressions devoid of emotion. They were dressed in sharp black suits, their presence exuding quiet menace.

“Miss Tan, please come with us,” one of them said firmly.

“No,” Lia said, backing away, her voice trembling but defiant. “I’m not going anywhere.”

One of the men sighed, as if accustomed to this kind of resistance. “We’d prefer not to use force, but we will if necessary.”

“I said no!” Lia screamed, grabbing a heavy lamp from the bedside table and swinging it in their direction.

Her act of defiance was short-lived. One of the men caught her wrist mid-swing, twisting it just enough to make her drop the lamp with a clatter. Lia struggled, kicking and clawing, but the men overpowered her with ease.

“Let me go!” she shrieked, tears streaming down her face.

“Miss Tan, calm yourself,” the other man said in a flat tone. “You’ll only hurt yourself.”

They dragged her toward the door, her bare feet skidding against the plush carpet. Lia fought them every step of the way, her heart pounding with fear and rage. When they reached the hallway, her resistance faltered.

The stark opulence of the mansion stretched endlessly in both directions, the polished marble floors and gilded fixtures reflecting a world that felt unreal and suffocating.

The men pushed her back into the room, shutting the door with a decisive click. Lia stumbled to the floor, her strength drained.

She crawled to the bed, clutching the edge as sobs wracked her body. The darkness of the room seemed to close in around her, the once-beautiful decor now a cage that mocked her helplessness.

Lia pressed her face into the cool silk of the bedspread, her tears soaking into the fabric. She felt small, vulnerable, and completely alone.

Her mind raced with questions and fears. What did Vincent want with her? Why had he gone to such extremes? Would anyone even know where to look for her?

The thought of her parents, Mei and Samuel, brought a fresh wave of tears. They must be frantic by now, searching for her, worrying about what had happened. Lia clung to the hope that they wouldn’t give up, that someone would come for her.

But the hope was fragile, easily crushed by the reality of her situation.

She curled into a ball on the bed, her body trembling from exhaustion and fear. The silence of the room was deafening, broken only by her quiet sobs.

“Fucking asshole,”