Lover's Lament: Please Come Back To Me

"Look at that face and body, tsk! Send her down to the red-light district, and she'll rake in a hundred grand a day, easy!"

Kaitlin Hewitt found herself restrained in a decrepit building, her forehead bleeding.

The men had been rough, her clothing torn and disheveled, revealing bruised shoulders and much of her chest-a testament to her futile resistance.

Two days prior, a mysterious call had pulled her into this nightmare. The caller claimed intimate knowledge of her biological parents and even mentioned specific details about her body that only she should know.

Lured to the city's fringes, she ended up in the clutches of these thugs.

"Let's not do anything hasty. I can pay you," Kaitlin asserted, her voice steady despite the blood trickling from her mouth's corner. "I'm Alan Hewitt's wife. Whatever ransom you're after, he can pay it."

"Alan Hewitt?!"

The revelation struck the men like a bolt, prompting bewildered looks among them. "Alan Hewitt is married? Never heard about it."

Alan was a powerhouse in Osewood, a man whose mere disapproval could send shockwaves through the city. If they indeed held his wife, Alan's wrath could obliterate them effortlessly.

Noticing the uncertainty on the men's expressions, Kaitlin steadied herself, and said, "I won't claim you kidnapped me. Just let me go, and I assure you, you'll receive your money safely!"

The group leader studied her, his eyes lingering on her expensive designer dress and striking features, appearing slightly influenced.

Clearly, her attire was costly, and she was attractive. Someone of Alan's stature taking her as his wife would certainly make sense.

After a brief, meaningful glance at his accomplices, he spoke in an icy tone. "Give me his phone number, and no tricks. If you try to deceive me, I'll sell you to a brothel around. You won't be able to walk away from the endless line of clients!"

Kaitlin, blood staining her mouth, weakly uttered a phone number.

The leader attempted the number, but the call was abruptly disconnected.

Frustrated, he shouted, "Damn it! Are you playing games with me? The call won't go through!"

His expression darkened, and he delivered a harsh kick to Kaitlin's lower back.

The blow drained the color from her face, her voice growing fainter. "He won't take a stranger's calls. Please... let me use my phone to call him."

"Typical rich people and their eccentricities!" the leader muttered. After a moment's hesitation, he handed her the phone, growling, "Tell him to send two hundred million! Or you'll be fucked until you break!"

Kaitlin's fingers quivered as she dialed, her heart racing.

Despite being married to Alan for three years, she felt the void of his affection.

Yet, he had always been generous with finances, which gave her a sliver of hope. Perhaps he would pay a ransom?

The phone seemed to ring endlessly, her knuckles paling as she clutched it tightly.

At last, a voice answered, but it wasn't Alan. It was a woman's. The caller was none other than the renowned designer Lilliana Willis, sister to Alan's beloved.

"Kaitlin? Alan and I are at Ashley's grave. What do you need?" Lilliana's voice carried through.

Tremors ran through Kaitlin's hand.

The irony wasn't lost on her. It was their third wedding anniversary, and she had been kidnapped. Two days had slipped by, and Alan was none the wiser, instead spending his time at the grave of his first love.

Pain surged in her chest.

Alan's reasons for marrying her were layered; his grandmother, Beth Hewitt, longed for great-grandchildren, and Kaitlin bore an unsettling resemblance to his deceased true love, Ashley Willis, who had perished in a landslide three years ago.

The realization that she was merely a stand-in twisted the knife deeper.

Yet, this was not the moment for heartache.

Kaitlin struggled to hold back her tears and the pain that was evident in her voice. "Miss Willis, it's urgent that I speak with Alan. Please, could you hand him the phone?"

Lilliana let out a light chuckle. "Oh, Kaitlin, you know how Alan is. Today marks the anniversary of Ashley's passing. He's really not in the mood to entertain your drama. Why don't you just tell me what's happening?"

Biting down on her frustration as she noticed the kidnappers' growing impatience, Kaitlin raised her voice and shouted into the phone, "I need to talk to Alan! Right now! I'm his wife, and you have no right to keep him from me!"

She dared not mention the kidnapping, fearing the kidnappers would panic and harm her.

Her assertive tone seemed to make an impact. She could hear footsteps in the background and then Alan's voice came through. "Who's that?"

Lilliana, feigning grievance, covered the receiver slightly and whispered, "It's Kaitlin. She's adamant about speaking with you. I mentioned we're visiting Ashley's grave, but she got quite upset and claimed her rights as your wife..."

Alan scoffed dismissively. "Wife? Does she even count as that? She's nothing but a stand-in. Just hang up. Speaking to her will only disrupt Ashley's tranquility."

With a chilling beep, the connection was severed, and Kaitlin felt her heart plummet.