Arabella estimated that the car had been driving for a long time before finally coming to a stop.
She was taken to an old and dilapidated tower.
Climbing the stairs to the fourth floor.
The door opened, and in the center of the room was a large red table with a safe on top.
A man approached, opened the safe, and retrieved a painting.
The painting was approximately one and a half meters long, very ancient, severely damaged, having
lost much of its original imagery, requiring extensive restoration.
Arabella carefully examined the painting. Its style was remarkably beautiful and bold.
In the foreground, rugged mountain peaks stood tall, majestic and magnificent, contrasting sharply with the eternal rocks against the vast azure sky. In the distance, rolling green hills undulated under nature's brush, their treetops adorned with the golden and crimson hues of autumn, decorating the slopes. Nestled in a secluded canyon shrouded in silver mist, faintly visible thatched stone houses evoked a tranquility untouched by modern influences. In an ancient and quaint cottage constructed with hewn oak and dried thatch, a solitary figure immersed in meditation could be glimpsed under the flickering light of a candle—a reclusive monk, with long, sparse beards cascading down to his knees, weathered features concealing the timeless wisdom etched upon them. Seated cross-legged on a simple straw mattress, leaning against the edge of a narrow wooden bed frame, he appeared as brief and enduring as the pastoral landscape surrounding his solitary existence.
She recognized this as a hermit painting by the renowned 15th-century English artist John Burwood.
Burwood's most valuable work, "Hermit Monk," had previously fetched a staggering £30 million at a
Sotheby's auction.
If this painting received proper restoration, its starting price at Christie's or Bonhams auction houses could potentially reach tens of millions of dollars. It's no wonder these two individuals took the risk of kidnapping her to restore it, likely with the ultimate intention of illegally selling it.
By not sending the painting to her studio but having her visit in person, the origin of this artwork was undoubtedly suspicious—either stolen from a rural estate or looted from an archaeological excavation.
The tall man inquired, "Miss Arabella, how long will it take to complete this?"
"It's quite large, severely damaged, and has lost a considerable amount of imagery. I would say at least two weeks."
"Alright. Please list the tools and materials you'll need, and we'll fetch them for you."
Arabella picked up a pen, noted down the items, and handed the paper over.
The man took it, saying, "We'll go get these for you. Don't worry."
Arabella nodded.
As the two exited, the door behind them locked.
Arabella surveyed her surroundings.
The room was equipped with a bathroom, bed, table, and chairs, along with some food—clearly prepared for the purpose of holding someone captive.
Through the window, a view of winding mountain ranges revealed a barren and unfamiliar landscape. Dim lights in the distance indicated they were likely far from any city.
Her stomach growled with hunger.
Arabella grabbed a sandwich, took a few bites, and drank some water.
After using the restroom and washing her face, she lay down on the bed.
The surrounding silence was eerie, preventing her from falling asleep.
If she went missing, would Reginald be worried about her?
Certainly not.
His eyes were only on Chloe. He should be at the hospital with her now.
Thinking about how urgently she rushed to the hospital when Chloe attempted suicide, Arabella's heart felt like it was weighed down by a stone, uneven and painful.
Tossing and turning until late at night, she still couldn't sleep.
Suddenly, a faint sound came from outside.
Arabella pressed her ear against the door crack and heard a man shouting, "Baldy! What are you doing over there?"
The bald man lowered his voice, "Can't sleep, came to see if this woman is asleep. She's just a young girl. Do you think she can properly restore our expensive painting? If she messes up, the mastermind behind the crime will be angry with us."
"The mastermind has investigated her background. Her grandfather is 'Restoration Saint' John Siswos
—taught her everything since she was a child. There are rumors that many later restoration works were actually done by her hands."
"Ah, then I can rest easy!" The bald man chuckled lasciviously. "She's a pretty girl. Doesn't she attract you at all?"
The man advised, "Put away your dirty thoughts. Restoring this painting is our top priority. When the painting is sold, we all benefit. There's no woman that can't be conquered, right?"
"Money might get me a professional girl. Her body has experienced countless cocks; is she really unique? Once the painting is repaired, I'll give it a try, won't I? Fits perfectly, white and tender, those huge breasts attracting me, making me uncontrollably hot and unable to control my cock."
After a long silence, the tall man spoke, "Fine, but don't touch her until the painting is restored."
"You're right."
Arabella felt thoroughly disgusted.
Listening to the fading footsteps of the two men, she pulled the door handle forcefully.
The door was locked, immovable, and there were no convenient tools to pick the lock.
Arabella approached the window again, lowering her head. This was the fourth floor, with concrete ground below. Jumping out to escape was not realistic.
Moreover, there was a large guard dog in the yard. If she tried to run, it would bark.
Her only hope was to seek help from the outside.
On the way here, the tall man had her call her mom, reminding her to take her medicine on time.
Would her mother discover the truth?
The next day, Arabella began cleaning the painting and removed the backing paper after washing it.
She worked tirelessly for three days.
As the day of completion approached, she became more and more anxious.
At night, she felt uneasy sleeping. In the deep of the night, she heard the bald man's footsteps outside her room several times.
On this particular night, just as she began to feel sleepy, she heard barking outside, accompanied by hurried footsteps.
Arabella jumped up and started to get dressed.
The door creaked open, and the tall man rushed in, grabbing her wrist and pulling her out, while the bald man went to retrieve the painting.
Just as they reached the door, a group of people rushed up the stairs.
Leading the way was a tall, handsome man with well-defined features and deep, penetrating eyes Reginald.
Behind him, a fully armed group of police followed.
Arabella's sense of happiness surged like a tsunami. She could hardly believe her eyes.
She stared at the man, trembling with disbelief, "Is it really you, Reginald?"
"It's me." Reginald walked briskly forward. The skinny man dragged Arabella towards the window.
Before Arabella could react, a knife suddenly pressed against her neck.
The skinny man held the knife to her throat and shouted to the police, "Drop your guns! Back off! Or I'll stab her!"
The knife pierced her flesh. Arabella shuddered with pain, her ears ringing, and everything went black.
Reginald's fists clenched instantly. His eyes turned red as he stared at her, suppressing his anger, shouting loudly, "Drop the gun! Everyone, get out!"
The police exchanged a glance with Reginald, bent down, placing their guns on the floor, and then retreated.
The bald man walked over, kicking the gun into a corner.
The skinny man pushed Arabella onto the windowsill. "Jump!"
In order to save her life, Arabella held onto the frame tightly, hesitating to jump from the fourth floor. Any outcome could result in death or serious injury.
"I said jump, you won't die!" The man couldn't bear it any longer, grabbed her arm, and jumped together.
In that instant, a deafening gunshot suddenly rang out. A painful scream erupted, shattering the
night's tranquility!
The emaciated man crashed heavily onto the cement floor, his battered body convulsing a few times
before coming to a halt. His eyes tightly shut, dark blood slowly flowed from beneath his head.