Ch. Collection-Kidnapped, while my husband and brother 2 Collection-Kidnapped, while my husband and brother 2

Chapter 2 

Rose’s POV 

Once they left, I managed to drag myself over to the door, only to find it locked. My fists pounded against the door in desperation, but it wouldn’t budge. 

“No, no, no…” I whispered through my tears, my chest tight with panic. 

The pain in my stomach was unbearable, blood dripping down my thighs. 

In a haze of confusion, I grabbed my phone, unlocking it in haste. A voice note from Serena flashed on the screen. With shaking hands, I pressed play, her cruel voice cutting through the air. 

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“Hey, bitch. I guess I locked you in here by accident and put up a ‘Do Not Disturb‘ sign. Oops. No one’s coming to save you now. Just bleed out and die already!” 

As soon as the message finished, it was deleted automatically. 

Tears streamed down my face as I dialed Gideon’s number, my hands trembling. On the fifth ring, he answered. 

“Please, Gideon… help me. I’m locked in the bathroom, and Serena-” 

“I know,” Gideon’s cold voice interrupted me. 

I froze, the phone still pressed to my ear, my breath caught in my throat. 

“You know she locked me in here?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, as if 

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praying he wouldn’t confirm my worst fear. 

“Yes,” he replied, his tone void of any 

empathy. “This is your punishment for trying to hurt her. Stay on that cold floor and think about what you’ve done.” 

Before I could respond, Nathaniel’s voice echoed through the phone. 

“And don’t come back until you’re ready to beg for forgiveness!” 

The call ended abruptly, leaving me in stunned silence. 

The two people who had once sworn to protect me, who I had trusted with my life, had locked me up and left me to suffer after all I had been through–kidnapped, thrown from a moving car, losing my baby–and I was the one who needed to apologize? 

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I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I laughed. A bitter, hollow laugh that shook my entire body. It was the kind of laugh someone gives when they’ve completely lost their grip on reality. 

By morning, the hospital cleaners found me, passed out on the restroom floor. They rushed me to the doctor, who sighed heavily when he saw me. 

“What have you gotten yourself into, Rose?” he asked, his voice weary with concern. 

I gazed up at him, tears still streaking down my face. “I don’t know, doctor” I whispered. 

“You’ve lost a lot of blood. Your body has been under too much stress. If you don’t take proper care of yourself, you could cause irreversible damage” he warned me. 

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I nodded, my voice faint. “Thank you, doctor.” 

He paused, then added, “The nurse will bring the bill. Unfortunately, you don’t have insurance here.” 

I sat up, wincing in pain. “What do you mean? My husband’s insurance covers me.” 

The doctor’s brows furrowed as he checked his phone. “I’ll call the nurse from billing to straighten this out.” 

A few moments later, a nurse came in with a laptop in hand. She asked, “Miss, what’s your husband’s name?” 

The bile rose in my throat. I hated acknowledging him, but I had no choice. I needed to pay the bills. 

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“Gideon Blackwood,” I answered quietly. 

The nurse’s fingers flew over the keyboard before she paused, a frown deepening on her face. 

B 

“I’m sorry, but there’s no record of you in the system,” she said. “Under the insurance of Gideon Blackwood, it shows Serena Whitmore and their daughter, Juliette Blackwood.” 

My heart stopped. I couldn’t breathe. 

“What?” I managed to stutter, my mind racing as the world around me seemed to collapse. 

My husband had registered someone else under his insurance. I was left out in the cold. 

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“How do you plan on covering the bill?” the nurse asked impatiently. 

I swallowed hard. “I’ll put it on my credit.” 

The nurse shot me a glare before walking out. I reached for my phone, ready to call Gideon and demand an explanation, but something stopped me. If he didn’t recognize me as his wife anymore, then maybe it was time to stop fighting for a sham of a marriage. 

Despite the nurses urging me to rest, I stood up, my body protesting with every movement. I limped out of the hospital, ignoring the protests behind me, and hailed a cab straight to a lawyer’s office. 

I sat in the waiting area, my mind racing. Thirty minutes later, I was called in to meet the lawyer. 

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“How can I help you today?” he asked, looking up from his desk. 

“I want to file for a divorce and sever all ties with Gideon Blackwood,” I said, my voice steady with determination. 

The lawyer looked at me, surprised, then nodded and began typing on his computer. After a moment, he looked back at me with a frown. 

“Are you Serena Whitmore?” he asked, his voice laced with confusion. “You want to divorce your husband, Gideon Blackwood?” 

I felt my chest constrict. I shook my head quickly. 

“That’s not me” I said, forcing a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. 

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“See for yourself.” 

The lawyer slid his screen toward me, and my breath caught in my throat. 

There it was–legal proof that Gideon had been married to Serena for two years. Nathaniel had witnessed their wedding. 

And the date? It was the same day my car broke down in a storm. I had called Gideon and Nathaniel, desperate for help, but neither of them answered. They said they were in a meeting. 

That night, I had taken a shortcut and was attacked in an alley, stabbed twelve times. I almost bled out before a stranger saved me. I was nine months pregnant and lost my baby, requiring eighteen stitches. 

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While I fought for my life, my husband was marrying someone else. 

I couldn’t breathe. The pain in my chest was too much to bear. 

I stood up too quickly, the room spinning around me. My knees buckled, and I fell to the floor, gasping for air. 

“No… this can’t be real…” I whispered, my voice breaking. 

The lawyer rushed to my side, his voice distant. “Miss, are you okay? Should I call an ambulance?” 

Everything around me felt like it was underwater. 

I curled into myself, rocking back and forth, my nails digging into my arms as the weight 

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of everything crushed me. 

“No. No, no, no-” 

Each denial shredded my throat. The proof was there in bold ink: 

I’d never been his wife at all. 

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