Chapter 2
“No… Please, stop,” Mandy whispered, her voice trembling as she grabbed his hand and tried to push him away.
But his grip was like iron, shattering her calm facade. She clawed at his hands, but they were relentless, pinning her arms above her head.
“Let go of me. Someone help…” Her plea was cut short as he clamped a hand over her mouth, muffling her cries.
His kisses were forceful, and she twisted and squirmed, but it was no use. She was trapped, and the realization hit her like a punch to the gut.
This couldn’t be happening–her first time, stolen by a stranger here in a forest.
It felt like a nightmare, but the cold rain on her face and the mud clinging to her dress told her it was all too real. She couldn’t tell if the droplets on her cheeks were rain or tears.
“I’ll take care of this,” he muttered, his voice rough and low, before everything went silent and he collapsed.
Mandy pushed him off and scrambled to her feet, her heart pounding in her chest. She had to get away, had to escape this nightmare.
Ignoring the pain and the fear, she sprinted through the rain, her mind racing. Her dress was torn and filthy, and she knew anyone who saw her would guess what had happened.
She wanted to call the police, but the thought of the Lambert and the Jones families finding out made her hesitate. They’d never let her live it down.
She slipped back into the lounge, changed into clean clothes, and scribbled a quick note to Richard. Then she hailed a cab and sped away from the cemetery.
Then Mandy checked her phone and saw the missed calls and messages flooding her screen. Howard and Penny had been trying to reach her, but one message in particular made her heart drop: [Mandy, if you dare to tell anyone about us, you’ll never see your mom again.]
Her whole body shook as she read it, her mind reeling. Fury and fear surged through her, making her feel like she was on fire. She bit her lip, hard, but the pain was nothing compared to the storm inside her.
As if to match her turmoil, the sky outside darkened, and a low rumble of thunder rolled through the air. The drizzle that had been falling turned into a downpour, pounding against the car windows.
Mandy felt like she was drowning, the weight of the situation crushing her. Her shoulders trembled, and she couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. They streamed down her face, blurring her vision.
It was unbearable, this mix of anger, fear, and helplessness. But through it all, one thought kept her going: She had to stay strong. No matter how much it hurt, she had to keep fighting. She had to save her mom.
Three years later, a sleek black Bentley pulled up to the gates of Phoenix Villa, the most exclusive neighborhood in Westbay. The car glided smoothly down the driveway and came to a stop in front of an imposing mansion.
The door swung open, and out stepped a woman who looked like she’d just walked out of a college lecture hall–it was Mandy.
With her hair pulled into a high ponytail, she wore a simple white T–shirt, jeans, and sneakers, and carried a backpack slung casually over one shoulder.
Her face was bare of makeup, but there was something about her natural beauty that made people take a second glance. Yet,
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Chapter 2
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there was also a cool, distant air about her that suggested she wasn’t someone to mess with.
Mandy now was a brilliant young doctor who had already made a name for herself in the medical field. Today, she was here on behalf of her mentor, Dr. Beau Hansen, to visit a patient.
She had no idea who the patient was or what their background might be, but the luxury car that had picked her up and the opulent location hinted that this was no ordinary case.
“Dr. Jones, this way, please,” a man said, gesturing for her to follow.
“Sure,” she replied, nodding as she stepped inside.
The villa’s interior was a masterpiece of understated luxury. Every detail, from the sleek furniture to the carefully curated art on the walls, spoke of the owner’s refined taste.
In the living room, two men were deep in conversation. One of them sat in a wheelchair, but his posture was so upright that it almost seemed like he was defying the limitations of his condition. His muscles were well–defined, giving his tailored shirt a crisp, almost military–like precision.
From where she stood, she could only see his profile. He wore silver–rimmed glasses, and his sharp, chiseled features were striking. He exuded an air of quiet authority, the kind that made people instinctively defer to him.
“Nelson, Dr. Jones is here,” the man who led the way announced.
The man in the wheelchair turned turned heads.
face her, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. This was definitely a man who
His face was unforgettable–sharp, angular, and almost regal. His blue eyes were piercing and his jawline was strong and defined. He looked like someone who had never backed down from a challenge.
But as she looked at him, a wave of shock hit her. She blinked, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. Because the man in front of her looked almost exactly like someone she thought she’d never see again–her late husband.
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