Looking out the door, Arabella saw the sky darkening rapidly.
She couldn't wait any longer!
As the kidnapper's man focused on his phone, Arabella quietly approached him, almost like a ghost, and stood behind him. When he sensed something was wrong and tried to stand up, she struck his neck with all her strength. The man didn't even have time to resist; his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed unconscious.
His phone dropped to the floor.
Arabella hesitated for a moment but decided against picking it up.
She didn't remember her husband Ashton's phone number, and it wasn't a good time to call the police. Besides, she didn't need the phone.
The most important reason was that the phone appeared to be from an unfamiliar brand, possibly a customized model. If it contained a tracking device, it could reveal her location.
Arabella quickly made up her mind.
She removed her high heels, holding them in her hands, ready to use them as weapons if necessary.
Luckily, she hadn't lost her martial arts skills; without them, she wouldn't have survived today.
Just as she opened the door, she saw two tall kidnappers standing outside. They seemed shocked to see the hostage walking out on her own, both wearing surprised expressions.
"Go to hell!" Arabella yelled.
She jumped and kicked them down. Inside, though, she couldn't help but complain.
She hadn't expected to face so many people. Dealing with two strong men at once was a challenge. After knocking them down, she quickly looked for a way to escape.
The men quickly regained their footing and shouted into their walkie-talkies, "Damn, that bitch escaped!"
"What the hell!" Arabella gasped. She was on the second floor of an abandoned factory. The place was in ruins, with only broken walls left from a previous fire. Half of the stairs leading to the first floor were missing.
"Don't let her escape! Hurry and catch her!"
The leader of the kidnappers screamed angrily from above, "Catch her alive! You idiots couldn't even keep an eye on her!"
With no escape route ahead and the kidnappers closing in from behind, Arabella had no choice but to jump down. She landed on soft soil below.
The factory was high, and even from the second floor, the fall was several meters. When she hit the ground, pain shot through her ankle.
In the distance, a siren blared—someone had called the police, and they were closing in on the scene.
Arabella forced herself to her feet and started running toward a winding road. Then, something struck her: in addition to the police, a large group of journalists would also show up.
The next day, photos of her injured would go viral. News outlets flooded the internet with stories, some even alleging she was having an affair.
It seemed the mastermind behind the kidnapping didn't just want her infertile, but also to ruin her reputation.
Arabella was too weak to fight back. She had no choice but to rely on the Harts. To survive, she needed to stay loyal to her mysterious husband and keep her title as Mrs. Harts.
No prestigious family could tolerate such a scandal. She had to eliminate not only the kidnappers but also the relentless tabloid reporters who followed her everywhere.
She couldn't stop running.
As the early evening darkened, a gust of wind blew through, sending leaves scattering in all directions.
It was nearly half-past six. Arabella gritted her teeth and pushed forward with all her strength.
On the winding road ahead, a car sped toward her. The driver, Joe, hadn't expected anyone on the road and panicked.
He slowed down, swerving to avoid hitting her.
The headlights were blinding. Arabella tried to dodge, but it was too late. Though the car had slowed down, she was still knocked to the side.
Before losing consciousness, she could only think how tragic it was that she might die from this accident.
"Mr. Ashton, Mrs. Harts suddenly ran in front of me, and I..." Joe stammered.
He had come with Ashton to negotiate with the kidnappers, and now he had accidentally hit Mrs. Harts!
He paused and suddenly had a thought. Perhaps this was a test orchestrated by Mrs. Harts. She wanted to see how much Ashton valued her.
"Joe, call the police. Then head to the hospital," Ashton instructed, his voice steady. He didn't even flinch. After opening the rear door, he picked up Arabella and tossed her into the car, telling Joe to leave.
He was impressed that Arabella had the guts to escape.
"Mr. Ashton, the police are right behind us. They'll be here soon. Someone must've called them ahead of time."
Joe looked serious as he added, "Along with the police, a large group of reporters is coming for live coverage."
The Harts family was both mysterious and discreet. If the news of Mrs. Harts being kidnapped went public, it could cause a scandal that would make them the laughingstock of the public.
Even if Ashton divorced her, he would never be able to clear his name.
"Never mind. Just call Grandma and tell her she's safe."
Ashton rubbed his forehead, already anticipating a scolding from Margaret. She would blame him for not protecting Arabella better.
As Arabella was lifted into the car, she slowly regained consciousness. She didn't doubt that Ashton would have tossed her in without care if she hadn't been injured.
She lay on his lap, the faint smell of tobacco filling her nose.
Ashton, cold and indifferent, spoke without emotion.
They had been married for six years, and their son, Adrian, was five. Except for their wedding night, they had never been intimate. Even that night, Margaret had drugged Ashton to ensure Arabella could have sex with him.
Without Adrian and Margaret, Ashton would have divorced her by now.
Arabella couldn't bear to face him. She wanted to pretend to be unconscious, but her mind kept returning to the 200 million ransom.
The Heritage of Bloom necklace couldn't fall into the kidnappers' hands. It was priceless and, once smuggled overseas, would be nearly impossible to recover. Arabella couldn't let that happen.
"Ashton..." Arabella's voice was hoarse as she pulled at his sleeve. "Don't let them take the Heritage of Bloom necklace."
She fainted again before he could respond.
Ashton was taken aback.
Joe was stunned too.
The night was fully upon them when Ashton's car met the police and news vehicles on the winding road.
Ashton ordered Joe to ignore the police and head straight to the hospital.
As for everything else, the Harts would handle it.
After evading the police, Joe sighed in relief. "The kidnappers were cruel, but Mrs. Harts escaped right under their noses. It's clear that two hundred million is very important to her."
Ashton leaned back, eyes closed, deep in thought.
Arabella had always been selfish—greedy for money, scared of death, and desperate for survival.
He couldn't believe she had escaped on her own. It felt like everything was slipping out of his control.
When Arabella woke up, it was well past midnight.
The dim light of the VIP ward flickered. The nurse was dozing at her desk.
Arabella tried to move but felt as though her body had been crushed, a stiff pain shooting through her. Her ankle was bandaged, making it impossible to move.
She couldn't shake the unpleasant memory of being kidnapped.
But then she remembered: she was Ashton's wife and had almost cheated on him.
The thought made her feel a deep sadness.
"Madam, are you awake?"
The nurse quickly sat up, noticing Arabella's movement, and gently wiped her face with a warm towel.
A few hours ago, Mrs. Harts had been rushed to the hospital. Not many knew about it, but the nurse had watched the news.
The reports only mentioned that a lady from a prestigious family had been kidnapped, but didn't name her. It wasn't until she heard the medical staff whispering that she realized Mrs. Harts was the one they were talking about.
This hospital was owned by the Harts Group, and Mrs. Harts was the wife of the owner. The nurse was now extremely cautious, worried she might lose her job for any mistakes.
"How do you feel? Should I call the doctor?"
The nurse sounded anxious, having heard that Mrs. Harts was notoriously difficult.
"What did the doctor say?" Arabella asked weakly, raising her hand to find it bandaged as well.
She couldn't even remember if the injuries were from her escape or the car accident.
"Your ankle was dislocated. The doctor said you can't wear high heels for months."
The nurse lowered her head, preparing for a scolding.
Arabella was known for her love of high heels. She had a collection of the newest designs, often working with high-end craftsmen to create custom shoes. Losing access to her heels was nearly like a death sentence for her.
After a pause, the nurse looked up and saw Arabella had fallen back asleep.