LoveDrug
Chapter 1: Kidnapped While He Said “I Do”
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, muting 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.” A battered old phone was tossed at her feet. Without another word, the man ripped the tape from her mouth and cut the ropes binding her hands. A sharp knife pressed against her fair neck.
Beep… beep beep…
After what felt like an eternity, a low, cool male voice finally answered, “Hello?”
Summer trembled violently. “Trevor, I… I’ve been kidnapped. They’re asking for four million dollars in ransom. Can you please come save me?”
There was a brief silence on the other end before Trevor’s voice turned even colder. “Summer, I already told you—Peyton is sick. Her final wish is to have this wedding. Stop making trouble.”
It hit her then. Their wedding was today. Peyton was Trevor’s first love, but she had been diagnosed with a terminal illness. Her last wish was to have a wedding with the man she loved. When Summer found out Trevor had agreed, she had fought against it.
She shook her head frantically. “I’m not making trouble this time… I swear! Please, just believe me!”
Trevor’s voice remained emotionless, cold as ice. “Summer, you’ll always be Mrs. Larson. Why can’t you be more understanding? My patience is wearing thin. You’ve crossed the line.”
“Trevor, do you really not care if I live or die?” Summer clenched her teeth. “If you don’t come for me, we’re done!”
Trevor frowned. Here she goes again with the breakup threats. Summer, why can’t you just behave? His patience ran out.
The kidnapper snatched the phone away. “Mr. Larson, seems like you don’t care about this woman? Four million is just pocket change for you. Are you paying or not?”
At that moment, inside the grand church, Trevor stood tall in a crisp white suit, phone in hand. Opposite him, Peyton stood in a flowing white wedding dress. Outside, the ocean breeze rustled through the air, while the guests sat in awe of the romantic ceremony.
Trevor curled his lips into a cold smirk. “Not paying.”
Through the phone, Peyton’s soft, frail voice came through. “Trevor, I’m so happy you’re fulfilling my final wish. Even if this wedding is fake, it’s enough for me to remember forever. If Summer is so upset she resorted to something like this, maybe we should cancel the wedding.”
Trevor’s tone was firm. “I made a promise to you. I’ll keep it.”
The kidnapper let out a frustrated laugh. “Trevor, your fiancée is quite the beauty. Aren’t you afraid we might just have some fun with her?”
Trevor’s voice dripped with scorn. “Do whatever you want. If you actually go through with it, I might even throw in an extra million.”
Hearing this, Summer forced back the tears welling in her eyes. She had spent five years chasing Trevor, loving him, indulging him, believing that one day she’d finally melt his frozen heart. But the moment Peyton came back, everything she had worked for went up in smoke. And now, Trevor was holding a grand wedding with Peyton.
The kidnapper grinned wickedly. “Alright then, Mr. Larson. Since you said so, we’ll have to follow through!”
He hung up and turned back to Summer, his eyes gleaming with malicious intent. “Ms. Stewart, your fiancé is ruthless. He’s practically forcing us to have our way with you.”
Laughing darkly, he shoved a pill between her lips, forcing her to swallow.
At the church, Trevor felt an inexplicable sense of unease. Summer pulling stunts like this was nothing new. She had always disliked Peyton, always had a strong hostility toward her. And now, with this fake wedding, she had given him the silent treatment for days. But this time, she had gone too far. Kidnapping? Just to make him leave Peyton? I’ve spoiled her too much over the years. Once this fake wedding was over, if Summer apologized, he’d give her an even bigger, more extravagant wedding.
Peyton watched Trevor’s dark expression. She lowered her gaze and spoke softly. “Trevor, I’m sorry. This is all because of me.”
Trevor’s voice was calm. “It’s not your fault.”
Her delicate eyes shimmered as she asked, “So… Do we continue?”
Trevor hesitated for a moment before answering. “Yes.”
Hearing that, Peyton’s lips curled into a sinister smile. Summer, I told you—you’ll never beat me.
Summer stared at the disconnected phone, feeling as if her heart had been ripped out, bloodied and torn apart. At this moment, whatever hope she had left for him was completely shattered. She would have to save herself.
Quietly, she reached for the fruit knife the kidnapper had left on the ground. She waited for the right moment—then stabbed the man with all her strength before bolting toward the warehouse doors.
“Shit!” The kidnapper cursed in fury. “Get her! Don’t let her escape!”
The drug was starting to take effect. Summer could feel the heat coursing through her veins, but she pushed forward, sprinting down the desolate road, barefoot and desperate. The footsteps behind her grew closer and closer… Her heart pounded in her throat. This place was isolated, abandoned.
Just then, a sleek, black Porsche—an ultra-rare, limited-edition model—sped down the road. Summer didn’t hesitate. Better to die by impact than fall into their hands. She squeezed her eyes shut and threw herself in front of the car.
The tires screeched violently against the pavement, slicing through the silence. The Porsche came to a sudden stop—mere inches from her body. The impact sent Summer crashing to the ground. A few seconds later, the car door swung open. A pair of polished black leather shoes stepped onto the ground. Long, powerful legs wrapped in tailored trousers moved forward. The man crouched down in front of her.
As Summer got a clear look at his face, her heart skipped a beat. “You… it’s you.”