Just as Rafael was about to hang up, the next sentence froze him in place.
“Oh? So you’re saying your wife isn’t Helena Walsh?”
His movements stiffened, as if someone had doused him in ice water.
Very few people knew he was married, and even fewer knew about Helena.
His expression darkened slightly, but he still sneered.
“The entire New York knows my wife is the eldest daughter of the Perkins family. I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
With that, he ended the call. Just as he was about to dial Helena’s number, Kaylee walked up to him, urging impatiently,
“The next set of photos is about to start. Why haven’t you changed?”
Rafael frowned but still asked, “Where is Helena? Wasn’t she supposed to be here to help you today?”
At the mention of that name, Kaylee’s grip on her wedding dress tightened, her nails digging into her palm.
Even now, he was still thinking about that wretched woman!
A cold smirk flashed through her heart as she recalled what Helena must be going through at this moment. Lowering her head, she put on a look of disappointment.
“She probably still hates me... We had a little disagreement in the dressing room earlier, so I told her to rest there for a while.”
Rafael’s frown deepened, further convinced that the kidnapper was playing games with him. Or perhaps Helena was in on it too, desperately scheming for his attention.
He pulled Kaylee into his arms, his tone indifferent. “Forget her. Today is our special day. After the shoot, I’ll take you out for a candlelit dinner.”
Kaylee smiled sweetly and planted a shy kiss on his lips.
—
On the other end of the call, after hearing the click of the line disconnecting, the man in black’s expression darkened instantly.
Gripping his knife, he traced its edge along Helena’s neck, his voice laced with madness.
“You better pray you still have some value left. Otherwise...”
As the blade pressed against Helena's skin, a sharp pain shot through her. She turned her head away, feeling the warmth of blood trickling down her neck, her face growing paler by the second.
The kidnapper, however, seemed fascinated by the sight. He lightly patted her cheek with the knife before redialing the number, his tone now a direct threat.
“If the money isn’t transferred within thirty minutes, I’ll kill her.”
The response was indifferent.
“Go ahead.”
“...What?”
“Didn’t you say you’d kill her? Do it now. I won’t be giving you a single cent.”
The kidnapper’s face twisted into a menacing scowl. “Aren’t you afraid this will leak and ruin you?”
A soft scoff came through the receiver. “You don’t even know who I truly care about. How could you possibly threaten me? That nameless, insignificant woman was just a fling. In fact, I should thank you for taking care of her for me.”
“I don’t care who you are or when you kill her. Just let me know when the body needs collecting.”
After a beep, the line went dead once more.
The kidnapper’s fury exploded—he slammed his fist against the pillar, his face contorted in rage.
“You’re supposed to be Mrs. Suarez! How could he not care at all?!”
He hadn’t risked this much just to kill someone—he wanted money!
Helena had remained silent ever since she regained consciousness. But at this moment, the weight of it all finally became unbearable. Tears streamed down from her eyes, one after another.
Her head throbbed. Her vision blurred, and her neck burned with pain. But it was nothing compared to the agony in her heart—every breath felt like a thousand knives stabbing into her chest.
She forced out a bitter smile, mocking herself. “We’re already divorced. He doesn’t care whether I live or die.”
“...What?” The kidnapper’s temper snapped, and in a blind fury, he plunged the knife into her shoulder.
“You wretched woman! If I don’t get my money, then we’ll go to hell together!”
Blood poured from the wound. The excruciating pain made Helena slip into unconsciousness, only for the agony to jolt her awake again and again.
She didn’t know how long she was tortured. She didn’t even remember when she was finally rescued.
She only knew that when she opened her eyes again, she was in a hospital.
—
A television in the hospital room was broadcasting news about the high-profile marriage alliance. A reporter, holding a microphone, eagerly interviewed the couple.
“We heard you’ve completed your wedding photoshoot. Can you share where the ceremony will be held?”
Rafael, holding Kaylee in his arms, smiled indulgently.
“Kaylee loves church weddings, so we’ll be having ours in a chapel. We’ll also select ten lucky fans to witness our love.”
Beside the hospital bed, her phone vibrated repeatedly. It was a message from Rafael.
[Was it fun playing games with me? I told you—I don’t care if you live or die. Now that your little stunt is over, get back here. You know churches well, so you’ll be in charge of decorating the wedding.]
