Claimed By Mr. Billionaire

The abandoned factory was overgrown with weeds. A rusty red sedan sat outside the entrance.

Inside, Summer Stewart’s hands were tied behind her back, and a strip of yellow duct tape sealed her lips, muffling her voice into desperate whimpers.

Her white dress was stained with dirt, and her slender, pale legs were exposed beneath the fabric.

A masked kidnapper crouched in front of her, his voice hoarse and raspy.

“Ms. Stewart, you’re Trevor Larson’s fiancée. Four million dollars for ransom shouldn’t be a big deal. Here, call him yourself.”