Captive by Choice

Dawn broke. Sunlight sliced through the cracks in the corrugated iron roof of the abandoned factory. Dust motes danced in the shafts of light.

Nash groaned, stretching his sore neck as he sat up from his sleeping bag. The storm had passed, leaving behind a humid stillness. He rubbed his eyes and glanced toward the small concrete room where they had left their captive the night before.

His breath hitched. The iron door hung wide open. The mattress, stained with dried maroon patches, sat bare.

"Jace! Get up!" Nash yelled, kicking away his blanket and scrambling to his feet.

The shout roused the other men. They grumbled, crawling out of their makeshift beds, rubbing sleep from their eyes.

"She's gone," Nash said, pointing at the empty room.

Panic rippled through the group. They didn't care about the lost ransom anymore. A fragile woman, bleeding and terrified, wandering out into the deep woods after a severe storm meant certain death. They would have a corpse on their hands.

They rushed toward the massive iron gates at the front of the compound. The heavy doors stood slightly ajar. The factory sat in the middle of nowhere, flanked by dense timberland, sprawling farmlands, and a rushing river.

"Split up," Jace commanded, his voice tight.

Before they could scatter, a rustle from the nearby tree line caught their attention. The men froze.

A figure emerged from the dense woods.

Tess walked toward them with slow, measured steps. The blue-striped hospital gown she wore was still crusted with dried blood and mud around the hem, but her appearance had shifted. Her pale face was scrubbed clean of dirt and tears. Her tangled hair was now woven into a neat, damp braid that rested over her shoulder. Cradled in her bruised arms was a thick bundle of gathered firewood.

She stopped a few feet away from the dumbfounded men. Her lips curved into a quiet, timid smile.

"You're awake," she greeted.

The rugged captors exchanged bewildered glances. They stared at the woman standing before them. The frantic, self-destructive captive from last night had vanished, replaced by this calm presence.

"You didn't run away?" Jace asked, dropping his guard.

Tess lowered her gaze for a second, then looked back at the group. She shifted the heavy logs in her arms. "I have nowhere to go. Would it be okay if I stayed here for a few days?"

Silence fell over the courtyard. The men stood speechless. The legal wife of the Drexel Group's CEO—a woman commanding immense wealth and status—was genuinely asking the thugs who abducted her for basic shelter.

Later that morning, the damp air inside the factory grew stifling. Jace and the others sat around a makeshift table fashioned from wooden crates, slapping down playing cards.

Across the concrete floor, a fire crackled. Tess had built a neat pyramid with the dry branches she found, feeding the flames until they roared. The heat radiated outward, driving the men to the cooler edges of the warehouse. Tess, however, remained close to the hearth. She sat on an overturned bucket, her knees pulled tight against her chest, staring into the dancing orange blaze.

Nash tossed his cards down and stood up. He wiped sweat from his brow and walked over to her. The blistering heat hit him like a physical wall as he drew near.

"Aren't you roasting?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at her heavy hospital gown.

Tess tilted her head, her blank gaze drifting away from the fire and landing on him. She offered no answer.

Nash hesitated. He grabbed a rusted stool and sat down beside her, ignoring the oppressive heat baking his skin. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I don't get it. You're the adopted daughter of the Daltons. They own half the real estate in Eldoria. How does someone like you have no place to call home?"

Tess turned her attention back to the crackling logs. The flames reflected in her dark eyes.

"My foster mother accidentally lost her own child," Tess began, her voice soft and raspy, tinged with a hollow sadness. "She fell into a deep depression. My foster father brought me home to help her overcome her grief. I was supposed to be a distraction." She paused, picking up a small twig and tossing it into the fire. "But after they found their real child, I had nowhere to go."

Nash frowned, the pieces clicking together in his mind. "So they just used you as a temporary crutch and threw you out?"

The blunt assessment hit a nerve. Tess trembled. The faint color the fire had brought to her cheeks drained away, leaving her pale and fragile. She hugged her knees tighter.

"What about your real family?" Nash pressed, carefully avoiding any mention of Gideon Drexel. "Before the Daltons?"

Tess shook her head. "I don't have a family. I don't even have a past."

Nash raised an eyebrow.

"I woke up inside Dalton Villa," she continued, her voice barely a whisper over the popping wood. "That is where my memories start. Nothing before it. My foster father told me he found me unconscious on a dirt country road. That was my beginning."

Nash swallowed hard. The heavy questions sitting on his tongue—why she spiraled into sheer panic at the sound of thunder, why the mere mention of a sterile hospital sent her into a self-harming frenzy—dissolved. He stared at her small, trembling frame, realizing the depth of the brokenness sitting beside him. He said nothing more, letting the fire roar between them.

The afternoon sun baked the corrugated roof, turning the factory into an oven. Jace stalked over to the fire, holding a black mobile phone. He stopped beside Tess and shoved the device toward her.

"Time's up," Jace ordered. "Call Gideon. Tell him you've been abducted. Demand the ransom money."

Tess stared at the sleek device. Her heart gave a painful squeeze. She knew the depth of her husband's indifference. Calling him was a fool's errand.

She kept her hands wrapped around her knees and looked up at Jace. "Do I really have to call him? Gideon won't pay a dime for me. How about this? I can sign a debt contract. I will pay you the ransom myself once I find a way to earn it."

Jace scoffed, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration. "Stop stalling. You are his wife." He punched a few buttons on the keypad, dialed the number, and hit the speaker icon. He thrust the phone closer to her face. "Make the call."

Tess reached out with trembling, dirt-stained fingers and took the phone. She stared at the screen. The number was memorized, carved into her brain. The line rang. Each dial tone echoed in the quiet factory, stretching her nerves to the breaking point.

Then, a click.

"Hello?"

The familiar, cold voice filtered through the tiny speaker. A sharp pang struck Tess right in the chest. Her breath hitched. She bit her lower lip, fighting to keep her voice steady.

"I've been abducted," she said, her voice small and tentative. "Can you come get me?"

A heavy silence followed. She could picture him standing in his tailored suit, his brow furrowed in mild annoyance.

When he spoke, the detached response carried zero emotion. "Val just fell asleep. I can't leave right now."

Click. The dial tone buzzed, signaling the dead line.

Tess froze. The phone slipped from her grip and clattered onto the concrete floor. She had logically anticipated this outcome. She knew where she stood in his life. Yet, the casual rejection plunged her into an icy abyss. A suffocating numbness spread through her limbs. She sat rigid beside the blistering warmth of the fire, shivering as if buried in snow.

The men watched her sit in that hollow despair for an hour. The silent agony radiating from her was too heavy for the dingy warehouse. Unable to bear it any longer, Jace gestured to the door. They packed their gear, loaded Tess into the back of their rusted van, and drove her back to civilization.

They pulled up to a bustling city bus station. The afternoon crowds weaved through the exhaust fumes and roaring engines. Jace unlocked the doors. Tess stepped out onto the hot pavement, pulling the hospital gown tighter around her thin frame.

As she turned to face the van, Nash stepped out. He walked up to her, his expression gruff and unreadable. He reached out and shoved a crumpled twenty-dollar bill into her cold hand.

"Take a cab," Nash instructed, his voice rough. "Don't wait for the bus in that outfit."

Tess looked down at the green paper resting in her palm. Hot tears sprang to her eyes, blurring the busy street and the rusted van. In this cruel, unforgiving summer, her only glimmer of genuine warmth had come from the very criminals who dragged her away in the night. She clutched the bill tight, unable to utter a word of thanks before Nash climbed back in and the van sped away.

She knew returning to Drexel Manor was impossible. The hostile halls, the mocking gazes of the servants, the suffocating presence of her husband—she couldn't face it. Instead, she hailed a cab and gave the driver the address to the Dalton estate.

The opulent neighborhood was quiet. Manicured lawns and towering iron fences lined the pristine streets. Tess stood alone at the front door of the Dalton villa. She reached out and pressed her fingers to the digital keypad, punching in the familiar passcode.

The machine beeped a harsh, flat tone. The small screen flashed red: INVALID.

She tried again. The same red warning blinked back at her. Her code was erased. She was scrubbed from the system.

Defeated, she reached up and pressed the doorbell. Minutes ticked by before the heavy oak door creaked open. Edith, the head housekeeper, stepped out. She paused, eyeing Tess's dirt-stained gown and disheveled appearance.

"Ms. Tess? What brings you here?" Edith asked, her tone crisp and polite, reserved for trespassing strangers.

"I came to see my foster parents," Tess said, forcing her voice to remain steady.

Edith stood her ground, blocking the entryway. "Mr. and Mrs. Dalton are out. They went to the grand concert hall to support Ms. Candice's performance. They won't be back until late."

Tess dropped her gaze. The message was clear.

"Would you like to wait inside?" Edith offered, though she made no move to step aside, her reluctance obvious.

"No. Thank you." Tess turned around and walked down the stone steps. She heard the heavy door shut behind her with a finalizing thud, locking her out of the only home she ever knew.

Tess wandered out of the wealthy suburban enclave. The streets grew quiet. Rain from the previous night had left the concrete ground slick and damp. She kept walking until her legs ached, eventually pausing at a quiet crossroads.

A massive tree stretched its sprawling branches over the intersection. The wet pavement beneath her feet was blanketed with a layer of fragrant, fallen osmanthus flowers. They clung to her bare feet and the hem of her gown.

A cool breeze swept through the street, stirring the heavy air and sending the sweet scent of osmanthus wrapping around her.

Tess stood frozen. A strange sensation washed over her exhausted mind. The empty street blurred. A vivid vision seemed to materialize right before her eyes. The present faded, replaced by a similar cold, rainy night. She saw two children standing close together under this very osmanthus tree, sheltering from the downpour.

As a breeze stirred the damp air, a vision seemed to materialize before her: two children standing under the osmanthus tree on a similarly cold and rainy night.