Heiress Unchained: The Bumpkin Wife Came From A Supreme Dynasty

Cold air clung to the walls of the deserted warehouse, and the damp concrete floor sent a biting chill through the space.

"Ezra, someone took me. Please, you have to come get me..."

Curled up near a stack of broken crates, Scarlett Reed tried to make herself smaller. Angry welts striped her arms and back where sticks had struck her, and swollen handprints stained her once delicate face. With shaking fingers, she fumbled her spare phone from her pocket and called her husband, Ezra Wilson.

Soft cries slipped from her throat, and fear made her voice unsteady while her teeth knocked against each other.

"Are you finished?" Ezra answered with clear annoyance from the other end.

For a second, Scarlett couldn't breathe. A dull weight pressed against her chest as she struggled to speak. "I'm telling you the truth. They have guns, and I—"

"That's enough," he cut in without hesitation, his tone flat and sharp. "Do you really think I'd fall for this? You'd lie about being kidnapped just to drag me back? Roselyn's heart stopped. They're still trying to revive her. Can't you act like an adult for once?"

"I wouldn't joke about this. I—"

"We'll deal with it after I return home. Don't call me again."

The line went dead before Scarlett could answer.

She stared at the dark screen in her hand, and tears slowly blurred her vision.

Hopelessness settled over her like a heavy shadow, and whatever strength remained in her expression faded away.

Only hours earlier, the two of them had been strolling through a foreign country on vacation.

Everything changed when Roselyn Lloyd called, crying about sharp pain in her chest. The moment Ezra heard her sobbing, he left Scarlett standing alone on a strange street and rushed straight to the airport without a second glance.

It never crossed his mind that she might be unsafe in a place she didn't know.

All that mattered to him was the woman he had always placed on a pedestal, Roselyn.

After he left, someone yanked a sack over Scarlett's head and hauled her into a van.

From there, they tossed her into this deserted warehouse and took turns hitting her, their fists and boots landing without mercy. Slaps cracked across her face again and again until her skin burned.

Eventually, they grew bored of hurting her. Once they stepped out for lunch, she finally found a small window to beg for help.

Her phone vibrated in her hand with a new message. Roselyn had sent her a photo on WhatsApp.

In the image, Ezra's shirt clung to him with sweat as he cradled Roselyn like something fragile that might break. He held her with careful arms, shielding her as though she were priceless.

The fear and desperation written all over his face were emotions Scarlett had never once received from him in three years of marriage.

A sharp ache tore through her chest, so fierce it almost made her gasp.

A hollow laugh slipped from