Chapter 3 Kidnapped

Cheryl's mother's death anniversary was at the end of the month.

In previous years, no matter how busy Zachary was, he would always go to the cemetery with her.

But this year when Cheryl left the house, she didn't call him.

She didn't know if he would go, and she didn't want to ask anymore.

Asking would just be humiliating herself.

She drove to the cemetery alone and bought a bouquet of white roses at the flower shop.

When she arrived at the cemetery, she walked up the steps. The wind was strong, blowing her hair into a mess.

When she reached the gravestone, she froze.

There was already a bouquet of flowers in front of the gravestone—white roses, exactly the same as the ones in her hand.

A person was standing beside it.

Black coat, straight posture, bending down to arrange the flower stems.

It was Zachary.

Cheryl stopped in her tracks.

She hadn't expected him to come, much less to arrive earlier than her.

Zachary heard footsteps and turned to look at her. "You're here?"

Cheryl made a sound of agreement and walked over, placing her flowers beside the gravestone.

Two bouquets of white roses sat side by side, identical.

Cheryl crouched down, looking at her mother's smiling face in the photo, her nose tingling.

"Mom, I came to see you."

Zachary stood nearby, saying nothing, not leaving either.

Cheryl glanced at him from the corner of her eye.

His face was turned to the side, his jawline tight, lost in thought.

Cheryl's heart suddenly felt sour.

He came. He actually came.

Over these five years he'd done so many things that broke her heart, but the moment she saw him, her heart couldn't help but stir.

Could it be... that he actually still cared?

Just didn't know how to express it?

The moment this thought appeared, Cheryl knew how ridiculous she was being.

But she couldn't control it.

Five years—she'd loved him for five years. It wasn't something she could just let go of.

"You..." her voice was rough. "Why did you come?"

Zachary glanced at her. "Today is your mom's death anniversary."

Cheryl lowered her eyes, said nothing, just stood in front of the gravestone, looking at her mother's photo, silent for a long time.

Zachary didn't speak either, just stood beside her, not too close, not too far.

When the wind blew, Cheryl caught the familiar scent of cedar on him.

They stood like that for over ten minutes, neither speaking.

Cheryl took a deep breath, about to say something, when Zachary's phone suddenly rang.

He took out his phone, glanced at it, and immediately answered.

"Hello?"

Jasmine's crying voice came through the phone. "Zachary! Save me! Someone locked me up! I don't know where this is!"

Zachary's voice tightened. "Where are you?"

"I really don't know. Zachary, I'm so scared. Come quickly." Jasmine was crying so hard on the phone she could barely breathe.

Zachary gripped his phone, his knuckles white. "Don't be scared. Send me your location. I'll come right away."

He hung up and turned to leave.

After two steps, he stopped, looked back at Cheryl. "Take a cab home yourself."

Cheryl looked at him. "She was kidnapped?"

"Yeah." Zachary had already turned toward the steps.

Cheryl followed a step. "Kidnapped but has time to call you?"

Zachary turned back, his eyes cold as knives. "What are you trying to say?"

Cheryl pressed her lips together. "I'm saying, if it's really a kidnapping, the kidnappers wouldn't let her make a call."

"So?" Zachary's eyes flashed with anger. "You think she's lying to me?"

"I didn't say that. I just think..."

"You think what?" Zachary cut her off. "You think she's like you, always making trouble out of nothing?"

Cheryl's face went pale.

"Cheryl, can you not be so mean?" Zachary was agitated. "She's been kidnapped and you're still hung up on this? You think you're worthy of being compared to her?"

Cheryl was stunned. Was she worthy of being compared to her?

Back when he begged her to marry him, he knelt on both knees in front of her mother's grave and said he would treat her well. But now, he was saying she wasn't worthy.

When your heart gets cold enough, it becomes strangely calm.

"Go ahead." She was completely calm. "I'll go back myself."

Zachary looked at her, but in the end said nothing, turned and strode away.

Her feelings didn't matter. Jasmine was still in danger. At worst, he could just coax Cheryl when he got back.

That's how they'd gotten through all these years anyway.

Cheryl crouched down and reached out to touch her mother's face in the photo.

"Mom, you were right." She smiled bitterly. "When a man's heart changes, nothing you do can pull him back."

The wind blew, and the white rose petals trembled gently.

"But it doesn't matter anymore. I've figured it out. In twenty days, I'll give him back his freedom."

Cheryl stood at the cemetery for a long time before turning to leave.

By the time she got home, it was already dark.

She opened the closet and started packing. Halfway through, the door suddenly opened.

Zachary strode over and, without any warning, slapped her across the face.

"Cheryl, I never thought you could be so vicious. You actually had someone kidnap her!"

The slap sent Cheryl stumbling backward. Her back slammed into the closet with a dull thud.

She slowly turned her head and stared coldly at the man standing before her.

How could this be the same person who'd just laid flowers at her mother's grave—only to come home and hit her over his mistress?

Zachary caught her stare. A flicker of guilt crossed his face.

But then he thought of what she'd done, and rage surged back.

"Stop playing the victim!" He seized her wrist and dragged her toward the door.

"You're coming to the hospital with me! Jasmine's still on an IV from the shock. You're going to get on your knees and apologize to her today!"

Cheryl went limp, like a soulless puppet. She let him haul her downstairs and shove her into the car.

She didn't want to argue. Didn't want to fight. Her ears were ringing, nausea churning in her stomach.

Fine. She'd go. She wanted to see for herself how exactly she'd "kidnapped" Jasmine.