Chapter 8
Carsyn's POV
My head was pounding, the pain sharp and disorienting, as if I'd been struck with something heavy. An irritating noise buzzed in my ears, like a mosquito's relentless hum, making it hard to focus. I wanted to open my eyes, but my eyelids felt weighed down, refusing to cooperate.
Somewhere nearby, voices were speaking.
Voice A: "What did you hit her for?"
Voice B: "I was in a bad mood."
Voice A: "The boss explicitly ordered us not to hurt her!"
Voice B: "What do we do now?"
Voice A: "We'll tell him she was being disobedient."
Voice B: "Should we wait for her to wake up, or inform the boss now?"
Voice A: "We'll inform him now."
My heart raced. Why was I here? Who were these men? And who was their boss?
I tried to piece things together. My hands and legs were tied, my eyes blindfolded. Could it be… that their boss had seen my beauty and wanted to make me his wife?
Oh, no! I couldn't marry some random guy. Sure, I had sworn to let go of my ridiculous crush on Professor Finley, but I wasn't ready to abandon my fantasies about him.
But wait… why was I thinking about romance at a time like this? I might be in serious danger! Maybe they'd blackmail my parents or, worse, harm me. What if this turned into one of those novel scenarios where the heroine is saved at the last minute by her Mr. Right?
"Stop it, Carsyn!" I scolded myself internally. "This isn't a novel. If Mr. Right existed, he'd have already saved you by now."
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Author's POV
While Carsyn was lost in her spiraling thoughts, one of the men picked up a phone.
Voice A: "Boss, what are we supposed to do with her?"
A pause.
Voice A: "Got it."
He turned to the other man. "The boss said to wait. He's coming here, and after that, we can leave."
Moments later, Carsyn heard heavy footsteps approaching. A deep, commanding voice spoke—its smooth, rich tone strikingly similar to Professor Finley's.
Curiosity sparked in her. While the voice was undeniably attractive, she was sure it wasn't him.
She felt hands behind her head, untying the blindfold. As the fabric fell away, she forced herself to stay still, pretending to remain unconscious. But her eyelids betrayed her, fluttering slightly.
The man, clearly amused, smirked. "Miss Beauty, no need to pretend. Your eyelids are giving you away."
Carsyn opened her eyes, her gaze locking on a man so handsome it left her momentarily speechless. For a moment, all her fears melted away, replaced by awe.
Her mind betrayed her once again. Why is this man so attractive? she thought. Who's more handsome—him or Professor Finley?
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Carol's POV
I couldn't help but chuckle at this girl. She'd been kidnapped, and yet there wasn't a trace of fear in her eyes. Instead, she looked at me as if I were some sort of exhibit.
Her boldness was refreshing, if not amusing. She seemed completely lost in thought, likely admiring me. Not that I could blame her—few could resist my charm.
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Carsyn's POV
"Hey, beauty," he said, snapping his fingers in front of my face, dragging me out of my daze. That smirk of his made me want to punch him, wipe that arrogant expression right off his face.
"Let's have a little interaction," he continued.
Despite the situation, his energy didn't feel threatening. It was as though he had no intention of hurting me. But if that were true, why kidnap me?
Smirking back, I quipped, "Hello, Mr. Handsome. I doubt you kidnapped me just for a chat."
He raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening into a full grin. "Miss Beauty seems to have a misunderstanding," he said.
Feigning nonchalance, I glanced around the room. My hands were tied, and the blindfold had only just been removed. "Oh, Mr. Handsome," I said sarcastically. "Care to clear up this misunderstanding?"
Instead of answering, he simply smiled, his silence both infuriating and intriguing.
"Don't tell me," I continued, "that this isn't a kidnapping but some game of hide-and-seek you're playing."
This time, he chuckled, dragging a chair close and sitting down. Still, he refused to answer, testing my patience.
"Do you find this funny, Mr. Handsome?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
Finally, he spoke. "Miss Beauty, you're quite the comedian."
Oh, for heaven's sake. Someone needed to tell this man that I was going to be a doctor, not a stand-up comic. Comedy required more than just a sense of humor—it was an art.
But I kept that thought to myself. For now, I needed to figure out who this man was and what he wanted.