My Stalker Kidnapped Me on My True Love’s Wedding Day — But the Groom Had a Secret Plan
Part 1
I woke up on a cold concrete floor with a pounding headache and a metallic taste in my mouth.
My wrists were bound tight against a rusted metal pipe.
The last thing I remembered was sitting in the sleek, glass-walled conference room at Rose Design.
I had brought my portfolio, showcasing the awards I had earned at the top of my class.
The interviewer had sneered at my work, calling it trash right before I drank from the water glass they offered.
Now, the harsh glare of a single overhead bulb illuminated the grim reality of my situation.
A familiar figure stepped out of the shadows, the heels of his polished shoes echoing in the empty room.
Tyler tilted his head, a sickening smile stretching across his face.
I thrashed against my restraints.
He stepped closer, crouching down so his face was inches from mine.
His cologne, an expensive sandalwood blend, suffocated the damp air.
He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from my sweaty forehead.
I jerked my head away.
He chuckled, a dry, hollow sound that made my skin crawl.
I glared at him, refusing to let him see the panic setting in.
He paced around my chair, his footsteps slow and deliberate.
He listed the things I had lost over the past few months.
My job at the prominent architecture firm.
The eviction notice on my apartment.
The sudden, unexplained complication in my mother’s illness.
Most devastating of all, my brother Brian’s ongoing coma following his accident.
I kept my breathing steady, though my chest tight with a suffocating pressure.
Tyler stopped pacing and leaned against a wooden crate.
He confessed that none of my misfortunes were coincidences.
He had pulled the strings behind every single disaster in my life.
I stared at him, trying to comprehend the depth of his obsession.
He explained that he had given me multiple chances to choose him.
Instead, I had chosen Craig, the man I had loved for eight years.
Tyler’s jaw clenched at the mention of Craig’s name.
He revealed that his manipulations were designed to isolate me, to leave me with no one to turn to but him.
I pressed my lips together, fighting the urge to scream.
He admitted that he had orchestrated my firing by planting false evidence of embezzlement.
He proudly detailed how he had paid off the landlord to speed up my eviction.
Then, he dropped the most horrifying revelation of all.
He claimed that Brian could have woken up months ago.
He had paid Doctor Harrison to keep my brother in a medically induced coma.
I yanked at the ropes, the coarse fibers tearing into my skin.
Tyler watched my struggle with a satisfied gleam in his eyes.
He said he wanted me to stay desperate, to stay dependent.
He mentioned that the doctor who helped him was now a test subject in a clandestine Los Angeles facility.
I stopped struggling, the sheer scale of his madness washing over me.
He told me that I was finally his, that no one was coming to save me.
He pulled a sleek tablet from his coat pocket and tapped the screen.
He walked over and held the device in front of my face.
A live broadcast played on the screen, showing a glamorous ballroom filled with New York’s elite.
Crystal chandeliers cast a golden glow over the wealthy guests in their designer suits and gowns.
I recognized the opulent interior of the Sinclair estate.
Tyler leaned in close, his breath warm against my ear.
He reminded me what day it was.
It was the day Craig was getting married.
The camera panned to the grand staircase, capturing Brenda Sinclair in a stunning white dress.
She smiled brightly, waving to the flashing cameras of the press.
Then, the lens focused on the groom standing at the bottom of the stairs.
Craig looked impeccably sharp in a tailored tuxedo, his expression unreadable.
I clenched my jaw, refusing to give Tyler the satisfaction of seeing my reaction.
Tyler mocked my silence, pointing out that the man I loved was marrying into a criminal empire.
He claimed that my eight-year devotion had meant absolutely nothing to Craig.
I stared at the screen, analyzing Craig’s posture and the slight tightening of his hands.
I knew him better than anyone, and something about his stance felt entirely wrong.
Tyler laughed, assuming my intense focus was born of heartbreak.
He set the tablet on a barrel directly in my line of sight.
He promised we would sit together and watch the man of my dreams pledge his life to a monster.
The audio from the broadcast echoed through the cold warehouse.
The reporter’s voice enthusiastically announced the joining of two powerful families.
I focused on the rough texture of the ropes, testing the knot against the sharp edge of the pipe.
Tyler sat down in a folding chair, crossing his legs as he watched the screen.
I silently worked the fibers, ignoring the sting of my raw skin.
On the screen, Brenda reached the bottom of the stairs and linked her arm through Craig’s.
The crowd erupted in polite applause.
I felt a strange sense of calm wash over me.
I knew Craig wasn’t the kind of man to blindly marry into a family like the Sinclairs without a plan.
Tyler kept glancing between me and the tablet, waiting for a breakdown that wasn’t going to happen.
The officiant stepped up to the microphone, his voice booming through the speakers.
The broadcast zoomed in, showing the man I loved standing at the altar with another woman, and I knew I had to make a choice.
