My knees turned to jelly, too weak to carry my weight as it dawned on me that I was alone. That was when I remembered Demyon’s words about how I was safer behind the walls of his mansion. He believed that I wouldn’t last a day without him because his enemies had their eyes on me.
Now, I had two people’s enemies to look out for—Demyon’s and my father’s. It suddenly felt like there was a bounty on my head. I needed to run as fast and as far away from here as possible.
Leaving the mansion might have been a bad idea at this point. However, now wasn’t the time to blame myself; all I had to do was run.
I picked up my backpack and raced back downstairs. Unfortunately for me, a group of four men stood in the empty living room, arms crossed.
“Well, well, well,” one of them began, stepping forward with his eyes fixed on me. “If it isn’t the old man’s daughter.”
My heart sank into my chest, my brain thinking of the best possible way to get out of this mess.
“Where is he?” the man asked me.
I swallowed hard. “Trust me, if I knew, I’d be the first to rat him out.”
His scowl deepened. “Do you think this is a joke? Your old man owes me a lot of money, so I’ll ask you again…where is he?”
At this point, I was already sweating in awkward places, and my hands were trembling. “I swear…I don’t know.”
He nodded at his men. “Take her.”
“No, wait!” I stretched out my hand, my voice laced with urgency and a hint of desperation. “How much does he owe you? I’ll pay.”
The man pulled his head back in disbelief as he watched me reach for my backpack. “You…will pay his debt?” he questioned, casting a suspicious gaze at me.
I nodded, clutching my backpack like a lifeline.
“Is that where the money is?” He pointed at the backpack.
“Just tell me how much,” I said, avoiding his question.
He exchanged glances with his men, all of them wearing smug smirks on their faces.
“You know what,” he began, “hand the bag over, and we’ll let you go.”
Knowing the amount of money in there, there was no way I was giving it to them without a fight. It was my only ticket out of the mess with Demyon Tarasov. Handing it over would ruin everything I’d worked so hard for.
“No,” I said, my voice low and venomous.
“No?” His eyebrows rose. “I see you’re as stubborn as your old man.”
“Tell me how much he owes you, and I’ll pay. Then we can all go our separate ways,” I insisted.
One of his men leaned in and whispered something in his ear. The man then showed him something I assumed was a photo on his phone.
“This must be my lucky night.” He let out a wicked laugh. He raised the phone’s screen toward me. “This is you, isn’t it?”
It was a photo of Demyon and me walking out of the church on our wedding day.
I clenched my jaw and refused to answer.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” He lowered the phone and faced his men. “Boys, I think we hit the jackpot with this one.”
They laughed, nodding in agreement.
“Seize her,” he ordered, wearing that smug smirk I hated so much.
“Stay back!” I warned, as though I stood a chance against them
