In a rundown apartment that was in no way an appropriate or a familiar place for the heiress of the Evans fortune and last name, a young kidnapper who looked every bit like the puppy who was wagging his tail next to his owner stood by the door to the opened bathroom that was connected to the room his hostage was kept in.
His hostage, a significantly shorter person than the tall 18-year-old young adult was, and a very pregnant woman at that, stood right next to him, peeking dramatically from behind him only to retreat her face away again.
She did that a couple of times just to enhance the side effects.
The kidnapper looked at her apologetically, only adding fuel to the fire that was the role she currently played in order to survive this ordeal.
When he turned around to face her instead of the rundown bathroom that had zero to no maintenance whatsoever just like the rest of this place, Cynthia slowly but surely shook her head over and over again.
