Chapter 83: Chapter 83: The Sudden Kidnapping

Lila’s POV

I was in the dressing room, about to change out of the magnificent “Star Dust” gown, when a sharp, high-pitched ringing pierced my eardrums without warning.

The world before me lurched violently.

The starlight in the mirror began to twist, stretch, and shatter. Zoe’s voice from outside the door sounded like it was coming from the depths of the ocean—distant, distorted, and tinged with a heart-stopping panic.

“Lila?!”

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out to answer her. It felt as if an icy hand was clamped tightly around my throat. My body, like a block of wood with its support kicked out from under it, pitched forward silently.

Consciousness receded swiftly, like a dying tide.

Then, there was only darkness.

When I woke again, the first thing I noticed was the smell.

A thick, acrid stench—a mix of old dust, damp mildew, and some kind of cheap disinfectant—slithered into my nostrils like a cold viper, strangling my breath.

My eyes flew open.

The ceiling was low, a rough concrete slab stained with water spots. A few bare incandescent bulbs cast a sickly, yellowish-white light, buzzing overhead like a swarm of dying insects.

I was lying on a narrow iron bed. Beneath me was a thin, hard foam pad covered by a gray sheet, washed so many times it was turning white, its edges frayed and pilling. The air was frigid with the bone-deep, subterranean chill unique to a basement.

I struggled to sit up. The movement pulled at the back of my neck, and a sharp pain made me suck in a breath. My fingertips went to the spot and found a small patch of warm, sticky dampness. Blood.

’They drugged me.’

’A precise, professional dose, the kind that sends you into darkness before you even know what’s happening.’

I instinctively raised my hand and touched my ring finger.

It was still there, warm and smooth.

The Tear of the Moon God was still there.

It hadn’t vanished or dimmed. It rested quietly at the base of my finger like a pearl sunk in the deep sea, emitting a faint but incredibly steady, milky-white glow. I could feel it clearly—that warm energy, seeping from my fingertip into my veins, continuously but ever so slowly. It was like a tiny, inexhaustible stream, washing over my drug-addled nerves and soothing my racing heart.

’It’s protecting me.’

’Even when I was unconscious, it never stopped working.’

I surveyed my surroundings.

It was a small, almost airtight space. The four walls were cold concrete. There were no windows, only a heavy, rust-spotted metal door with a small observation window sealed by iron bars.

I had been kidnapped.

I forced myself to calm down and focused all my attention inward.

The energy from the Tear of the Moon God flowed gently through my veins like a docile stream. I guided it, letting it gather around my ears.

’Listen.’

’Not with my ears, but with my blood.’

Instantly, the sounds of the world changed.

Outside the door, in the hallway, there were footsteps.

They were light, but steady. The sound of leather shoes on a marble floor, carrying the unquestionable rhythm unique to someone long accustomed to being in a position of power.

’It’s Arthur Goodrich.’

Immediately after, another set of footsteps followed.

They stopped outside my door.

The door didn’t open, but voices carried clearly through the heavy metal.

Arthur’s voice was as gentle as ever, but to me, it sounded like a blade wrapped in velvet.

“Mr. Derek’s orders are clear. The FTC’s investigation report is due for its final conclusion next Monday. If the Goodrich Group is liquidated, all of our assets will be frozen. Mr. Derek needs Lila as a bargaining chip to get two things from Jasper Hale: first, to have him directly intervene and cancel the FTC investigation; second, to have him sign the ’Black Water Town Technical Cooperation Memorandum.’”

“…I understand,” Caleb’s voice said, trembling slightly.

“Good that you understand.” A hint of an almost imperceptible warning crept into Arthur’s voice. “Remember, Caleb, she is our bargaining chip. Watch her closely.”

A brief silence followed.

Then, Caleb spoke. His voice was lower than before, but it carried an undeniable force.

“Dad, she’s my sister. I’ll take care of her.”

“Take care of her?” Arthur scoffed, his laugh filled with sarcasm. “And how do you plan to ’take care of her’? Buy her the best cakes? Chat with her about those boring art exhibitions? Caleb, she’s about to marry the Wolf King! Do you think she’ll still have a place in her heart for you, her ’brother’?”

“Dad, you adopted her. You’ve had her under surveillance for over a decade,” Caleb’s voice suddenly became unnaturally clear, like a stone dropped into a deep pool. “Haven’t you developed any affection for her at all?”

“Affection?” Arthur’s voice shot up, laced with the anger of someone who’s been offended. “What are you trying to accuse me of?! That I have no feelings, that I only ever used her?!”

“I’m not,” Caleb’s voice was terrifyingly calm. “I just think we could be a little kinder to Lila. At least we don’t have to treat her like a prisoner.”

From outside the door came the faint clink of metal on metal—it sounded like Arthur had raised his hand and squeezed one of his cufflinks.

“Do as you wish.” His voice turned cold, carrying an unconcealed warning. “But don’t you dare ruin Mr. Derek’s plans. Otherwise, you won’t be able to bear the consequences.”

The footsteps started up again.

Arthur’s steps, firm and steady, faded into the distance.

But Caleb’s footsteps paused outside the door for a few seconds.

Then came three soft knocks.

“Lila?” his voice came from beyond the door, low, calm, with a hint of barely perceptible hoarseness.

I didn’t answer.

The door was pushed open gently.

Caleb walked in. He was holding a tray. On it was a bowl of steaming, fragrant cream of mushroom soup, along with a perfectly toasted baguette.

He walked to the bedside and placed the tray on the nightstand. His movements were gentle, without a single extraneous sound.

“Drink it while it’s hot,” he said, his voice soft, as if afraid to startle something.

I looked up at him.

I looked at his familiar face, at the bottomless calm in his eyes.

“This kidnapping,” I heard my own voice, so hoarse it didn’t sound like me, “you knew about it from the very beginning.”

Caleb didn’t deny it.

He just nodded, a slight movement that carried a heartbreaking weight.

“Yes,” he said in a low voice. “I knew.”

“Then why did you still…” My voice caught in my throat, the rest of the words refusing to come out.

“Why was I still good to you?” he finished for me, the corner of his mouth lifting into a faint, cold curve. “Because that was the only thing I could do for you.”

He paused, his gaze falling on the “Star Dust” wedding dress I was still wearing, his expression unreadable.

“Of course I thought about warning you at first,” he said, his voice calm but with a strange, piercing quality. “But, setting aside the risk of my father and Derek finding out, the real reason I didn’t tip you off was… I still wanted you to come back to my side. To be with me, as close as we’ve been all these years.”

I was stunned.

“You can hate us for giving you a false home,” his voice dropped, carrying an almost tragic frankness. “And you can hate me for taking part in this kidnapping.”

I suddenly understood.

“Caleb,” I said, my voice soft yet exceptionally clear, “can you do me a favor, then?”

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