The air was thick with tension as Amy sat across from her captor, their conversation weaving through topics of family, love, and desperation.

To her surprise, the man spoke of a loving wife and a brilliant daughter—his reason for taking such drastic measures. A failed investment had left him drowning in debt, and even if he paid it off, prison awaited him. His only wish? To shield his family from the relentless debt collectors.

Amy listened, her heart torn between pity and confusion.

Outside, the voices of negotiators and police officers buzzed incessantly. The man’s agitation slowly ebbed, replaced by an eerie calm.

"You know," he mused, "rich people aren’t as happy as they seem. If it weren’t for me, you’d be dead. I lost money—but you almost lost your life."

His eyes flicked to the clock, realization dawning. A faint, almost sorrowful smile touched his lips. "Miss, thank you for talking to me. Compared to you, my problems don’t seem so bad. You can go—"

A gunshot shattered the silence.

Warm blood splattered across Amy’s face as the man crumpled to the ground. Her mind blanked. Death had never felt so close.

Police and medics swarmed in, but Alexander never returned her call.

At the hospital, during her check-up, she crossed paths with Victoria, fresh out of surgery.

Finally, Alexander’s voice crackled through the phone. "You called earlier saying you were kidnapped?"

Nathan, standing beside him, snorted. "Oh, please. If she was kidnapped, how is she here? Pathetic attempt to get Alex’s attention. Look at her—not a scratch. Kidnapped? More like a desperate act."

Victoria stirred awake, her voice laced with disdain. "Ms. Sinclair, if bringing my meals was too much trouble, you could’ve just said so. Don’t joke about something like this."

Their mocking words painted her ordeal as nothing more than a ploy.

Alexander could’ve verified the truth with one call. But he didn’t. His focus remained solely on Victoria, blind to Amy’s trauma. In that moment, something inside her withered. Even now, he believed it was all a game.

Her voice was ice. "If you think I’m playing, meet me at city hall tomorrow at nine. The divorce papers will be ready."

Her repeated mentions of divorce had worn Alexander’s patience to its limit.

His tone was a blade. "Amy, I have no tolerance for theatrics. Women who use divorce as a weapon?" A pause, dripping with contempt. "They disgust me."

"Despite your endless harassment of Victoria," he continued, each word a hammer blow, "I’ve let it slide—until now. But even my patience has limits. Know when to stop."

Amy studied his sharp features, then laughed softly. "If you don’t want me bothering your precious Victoria, sign the papers. Otherwise..."

Her lips curled. "If you refuse, I’ll make sure her life becomes a living hell."

His brow furrowed, irritation flashing in his eyes as he regarded her like an inconvenient pest.