Olivia Young felt as if her body was floating along a gently flowing creek, carried by the current.
She opened her eyes, only to find herself enveloped in darkness.
Her eyelashes brushed against the cloth covering her eyes. She tried to move her hands, but they were tied.
Her feet were bound as well.
She could hear the sound of a car on the road. From this, she deduced that she was in a moving vehicle.
In the original novel, no one ever dared to kidnap her.
"Hey, where are you taking me?" she demanded.
"Back home to get married!"
Though it was only four words, it was enough for Olivia Young to piece things together.
That flower boutique belonged to Annabelle Winters.
Those two had mistaken her for Annabelle Winters and were taking her back to Annabelle Winters's hometown.
If she remembered correctly, Annabelle Winters’s father was bad news in the original story.
"You've got the wrong person, I'm not Annabelle Winters! I'm Olivia Young," Olivia Young kept her voice calm, trying to reason with them.
Kidnappers—especially ones driving—weren’t exactly known for being stable. Better not provoke them.
"Don’t try to fool us. The girl in the photo was you!"
"We just look a bit alike, that's all!" Olivia Young explained.
"You are Annabelle Winters. You just got all dolled up in the city, so you look a little different from the photo. Stop struggling—we're taking you home to see your dad. He’s only got your best interests at heart, you know. Women should come home to marry, support their husband, and raise children!"
She already had a child herself!
"Gentlemen, I'm already married. Bigamy is illegal," Olivia Young said, wriggling until she managed to sit up.
She couldn’t see anything; the black cloth allowed only a sliver of streetlight through.
"I'll say this once more. I'm not Annabelle Winters. I'm Olivia Young. If you let me go now, I won’t press charges. But if my family finds me, you’ll all end up in jail!"
The two men didn’t believe her, laughing loudly.
She’d never been this humiliated in her life.
"I want to use the bathroom."
"Hold it," one of them responded.
"I can’t hold it!"
"Women are so much trouble! If it were a man, we’d just give him a bottle—that’d be enough."
Seriously? With bottles that small, how would that even work?
Olivia Young, now is not the time to be thinking about that!
"Just wait," one of them said.
The car sped up. After who-knows-how-long, it made a sudden turn, drove a few more minutes, then stopped.
The door opened and someone yanked the cloth from her eyes.
Olivia Young blinked rapidly, struggling to adjust to the sudden flood of light.
"Go over there, into the bushes!"
One of the men untied her legs only to harshly bind them around her waist. "I'll be holding onto you. If you try to run, you're dead."
She was wearing high heels, surrounded by wilderness—how was she supposed to run?
She did really need the bathroom.
In the bushes?
Olivia Young was hoping to spot someone she could signal for help, maybe borrow a phone to call the police.
Even if she couldn’t call for help, at least the more she was seen, the more likely she was to be caught by surveillance cameras. In Hua Nation, there were security cameras everywhere.
Getting her face on camera was her only chance.
She headed toward the bushes, trying with every step to work free the knot at her waist.
No luck!
Not only that, the man on the other end would give the rope an occasional yank.
"Stop pulling! I almost fell!" she snapped.
He fell silent for a moment.
On second thought, maybe going straight to Annabelle Winters’s home would make it easier to escape.
The two men looked quite satisfied when Olivia Young came back.
"Annabelle Winters, behave and do as you're told, and we won’t give you a hard time."
Olivia Young cocked her head. "I’m a bit hungry. Do you have anything to eat?"
"Yeah."
They shoved her back into the car and threw her a bun.
"Water."
A bottle of spring water was flung her way.
Heartless.
Olivia Young behaved herself the whole ride, so the men let their guard down.
Still, there was no chance to send out a message.
Frederick Fairfax, I’m trusting you. You’ll come for me, right?
You’re not going to let me marry someone else, are you?
Baby. My baby. Mom misses you so much.
Her chest felt unbearably tight.
This is bad—my poor baby is going to be weaned early.
Olivia Young sat dazed in the car, no idea how long the bumpy ride lasted before they finally arrived.
What on earth?
She heard the crackle of firecrackers. Auspicious red character double happiness (囍) cutouts decorated the doors, scarlet banners hung everywhere, and balloons covered the floor—the wedding guests were already seated.
She was hustled in through a back door, shoved into a room, and someone came to do her make-up and change her clothes.
Were they really going to make her marry someone, just like that?
Poor Annabelle Winters.
Wait—right now, she was the victim.
"I don't want to marry him! Please, miss, I’m being forced! Can you let me go?" Olivia Young pleaded with the makeup artist.
The makeup artist glanced at the doorway and dropped her voice. "You’re being forced?"
"Yes! My father is making me marry a stranger—I don’t even know what he looks like!"
Tears rolled down Olivia Young’s cheeks. "Please help me, okay?"
"With so many people outside, how could you escape?" The makeup artist gently wiped her tears. "Don't worry, let's think of something together."
"Thank you so much."
With brisk efficiency, the makeup artist helped Olivia Young get ready.
The two women bustled about the room.
Olivia Young grabbed a pair of scissors and snipped off the train of her bridal gown, then kicked off her high heels.
The makeup artist handed her a pair of sneakers from the suitcase.
White veil in place, the stylist looped her arm through Olivia Young’s and announced, "The bride needs to use the bathroom."
The guards at the door didn’t suspect a thing.
Through the veil, Olivia Young spotted Annabelle Winters’s father mingling with the guests—flower pinned to his chest, wine in hand, cackling with glee.
He hadn’t even bothered to see his own 'daughter'—he just dragged someone in to get married.
What kind of father does this?!
She was fuming—positively livid!
Olivia Young wanted to stab someone.
Stay calm. First, she needed to escape.
Once she was safe, she’d come back for a little payback.
With the makeup artist running cover, Olivia Young managed to slip out the back door.
The stylist made her escape too.
"Why hasn’t the bride come back yet?"
"She’s missing!"
"Go find her—quick!"
Olivia Young heard the chaos even at a distance.
She deliberately made her way toward areas under surveillance cameras.
Frederick Fairfax, I know you’ll find me!
If Grace Gordon could do it, so can you.
But I will not be caught again.
Damn it! Run, legs, run!
"There she is!"
"Get her!"
"Stop right there!"
Olivia Young spotted a kindly-looking auntie. "Ma’am, help me! Please!"
"Hurry, come inside!"
The aunt ushered her indoors and closed the door.
Olivia Young hid in the room, heart pounding, as noisy commotion erupted outside.
"She’s in there!" came the aunt’s voice.
Olivia Young was dumbfounded.
She’d thought she finally found someone willing to help her, but the aunt was in on it.
Now she finally understood why so many women trafficked to these remote mountains never made it out.
Everyone here was in cahoots.
Olivia Young opened the door herself, fixing the crowd pressing into the shop with an icy glare.
"Is this Annabelle Winters?" someone muttered.
"Looks a bit like her... but not quite!"
"I don’t think so. She’s prettier than Annabelle Winters!"
"It’s just the makeup! Anyone can look good all done up!"
"Whatever, doesn’t matter—just take her back!"
"I am not Annabelle Winters," Olivia Young declared, yanking off the veil. "My name’s Olivia Young. We just look a little alike, that’s all."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"Uncle An is here! Let him take a look!"
An’s father squeezed through the people, fixing Olivia Young with a stare, his pupils agreementing.