Skip to content
Chapter_1
On the eve of her wedding, Whitney Valentine and her younger stepsister were kidnapped, but her fiancé only bothered to rescue her sister. The kidnapper sneered and lunged at her, tearing at her clothes with vicious intent. Still in shock, Whitney waited, foolishly hoping. “No! Please, just wait! Simon Perlman said he’d pay the ransom!”
With a mocking laugh, the kidnapper dialed a number and barked, “Monica Valentine, your elder sister sure is a fool!”
Whitney froze. Her sister’s mocking voice came through the phone. “You really believed all that knight-in-shining armor nonsense? Let me tell you the truth: I’m carrying Simon’s baby.”
Whitney’s face drained of color. “When… when did you two get together?”
“Simon’s always loved me. He only used you to get his business started! Now that he’s the CEO, guess who’s the one kidnapped?”
Chills ran up Whitney’s spine as she shook her head, unable to believe it. “I don’t believe it. Put Simon on the phone!”
A cold, remorseless voice came through instead. “Whitney, you’re no longer of any value to me. Take care on your ‘journey.'”
Boom. The ground seemed to fall from beneath her as despair engulfed her. Eight years of love, all a lie? He wanted her dead so he could take over the company.
Whitney’s tears fell freely.
Monica’s twisted laugh cut through the silence. “He wanted to leave you a pretty corpse, but I’ll make sure you die ugly. Have fun with her, then leave her to the wolves!”
“Monica, I treated you like my own sister. Why are you doing this? Mom and Dad won’t let you get away with this!”
“Do you think Mom and Dad really loved you?” Monica sneered coldly.
Whitney was stunned. What did Monica mean by that? Before she could ponder further, she was dragged deeper into the wilderness. The kidnappers’ sinister grins made her tremble, and she fought to resist the cold grip of terror.
Was she really going to be a pawn in Simon and Monica’s cruel scheme, used until her death? No. She couldn’t let it end like this.
Suddenly, her gaze caught a car parked oddly on the roadside below the hill, its door ajar. A man sat inside, a large silhouette in the dim light, his presence heavy with an air of tension.
With a burst of unknown strength, Whitney broke free from her captors and tumbled down the hill toward the car. Desperately, she pleaded, “Sir, could you please let me in to take shelter for a moment?”
“Get lost.”
The man’s icy gaze was half-lidded, his voice thick with warning.
The kidnappers were closing in.
“Someone’s trying to kill me, sir, please!” Whitney clung to his leg, crawling into the car and slamming the door shut behind her.
Her trembling body brushed against the man’s slacks, but she was too terrified to notice.
The man’s predatory eyes snapped open, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he spoke in a dark, cold chuckle, “You’re not getting out?”
“I can’t!” Whitney shook her head frantically, her voice desperate. “Please.”
“Huh. Whoever sent you, since you’ve come,” he said, his voice low and chilling, “don’t regret it.”
In an instant, his powerful frame enveloped her.
When Whitney slowly came to, the man was still asleep, the first light of dawn not yet breaking. She picked up her clothes in disarray and fled from the car, heart racing.
That night, she lost something precious. With a wretched wipe of her eyes, Whitney didn’t dare linger.
Ten days later, barely alive, Whitney made it back to the Valentine family in Banyan City. With nothing left to her name, she had endured hunger and cold, clinging to life.
Whitney clenched her fist. In all that time, she hadn’t seen a single piece of news about her father searching for her. Monica had said that her father never loved her, and recalling the injustices of her childhood, Whitney bit her lip hard. She refused to believe it. She had to return and confront the truth.
At the back door of the Valentine Mansion, Whitney entered with a cold, steely gaze. Before she could take another step, a dispute reached her ears from the living room.
“We can’t rest until we find the body!” her stepmother, Yvonne, fretted.
Monica’s voice was venomous. “Dad, if you’re worried about her haunting us, let’s arrange a ‘ghost marriage’ for her! We’ll make a profit and trap her spirit. She won’t dare come after us then.”
“Isn’t that a bit harsh?” That was her father, Preston Valentine, his voice devoid of any paternal warmth.
Whitney’s knees buckled, and she slumped to the floor, her face as cold as the reality of the moment. Her dreams of a concerned, remorseful father shattered.
Instead, they only sought to exploit her, even in death. They discussed using a ‘ghost marriage’ to bind her soul.
“Harsh? Preston, Whitney was born to shield Monica from misfortune—a life cheaper than dirt! Besides, we know what happened to her mother. If Whitney’s still alive and finds out your secret…”
“Enough!” Preston snapped, his voice cold and final. “If she’s alive, I’ll make sure she doesn’t leave here today.”
“We’ll smear her reputation. Monica and Simon will take over her company. Her grandfather’s legacy, her uncle… All will be taken care of.”
Whitney’s entire world collapsed. She understood now—there was more to her mother’s death, and her birth was far from a coincidence.
She couldn’t die here. Not like this.
With her heart torn, Whitney fled, hailing a cab. “To the hospital…”
The radio in the taxi blared, “The Valentine heiress Whitney Valentine allegedly engaged in promiscuous affairs and was murdered by her lover in the wilderness. Her family is heartbroken, desperately seeking her body…”
Whitney’s hollow laugh was the only reaction. The news she had so desperately hoped for—that her family might be searching for her—was finally out. But it wasn’t to find her. It was to tarnish her death and allow Simon and that vile woman to take everything that should have been hers.
Hatred burned through her veins. She had to survive. She needed revenge.
“Miss?” The driver’s voice broke through her dark thoughts. “What’s this girl been through?”
As Whitney fainted, the sound of hurried footsteps filled her ears.
When she awoke, she found an IV in her hand. The doctor, with a puzzled look, approached her. “Miss, your HCG levels are quite high, which means not only are you injured, but you’re also pregnant!”
Whitney stiffened as if struck by lightning. “Doc… what did you say?”
Her lips were as pale as the frosted cupcakes in the bakery window. It had barely been two weeks since that night with the man. How could her luck be so rotten that she ended up pregnant?
The doctor, seeing her stricken expression, understood. “Considering an abortion? I can arrange the procedure for you…”
“No one is going to touch her belly!” The words rang out like thunder in the emergency room as a group barged in.
A man dressed in a sharp suit led the group. He dismissed the doctor with a wave, then turned to Whitney, his expression cold.
“Ms. Valentine, I understand you’re expecting. Please, come with us.”
Whitney’s anxiety spiked. “Who are you people?”
“The father of the child you’re carrying would like a word.”
010
