chapter1
On the desolate border of Norvania, Suzanne York stared in disbelief at the men surrounding her. The truth was more agonizing than the bruises forming on her skin: her own brother had sold her for a hundred thousand dollars to settle his spiraling gambling debts.
They were in Technive, a lawless high-tech district where the glow of neon masked a dark underbelly of systemic exploitation. In this territory, human life was often treated as a secondary currency. Suzanne’s striking appearance had immediately marked her as a high-value target for the local syndicates.
Exhausted and trapped, Suzanne clung to the only hope she had left: her husband, Nathan Morrison.
“Wait!” she gasped, her voice trembling but resolute. “My husband... he has resources. He can pay you far more than whatever my brother took. Please, just let me speak to him.”
Ken, the leader of the group, signaled his men to stand down. He recognized the value of a ransom over a forced transaction. He tossed a phone toward her. “Twenty million dollars,” he demanded coldly. “If he doesn't agree to the wire transfer, your debt to us will be paid in a much more permanent way.”
Suzanne’s heart hammered against her ribs. She had admired Nathan from a distance for three years before their marriage just one month ago. They were practically strangers. Would a man who barely knew her sacrifice twenty million dollars to bring her home?
She dialed the number with shaking fingers. When the line connected, it wasn't Nathan’s voice that greeted her, but a woman’s.
“Hello? Who is this?” the woman asked smoothly.
Suzanne’s blood ran cold. “I’m Suzanne, Nathan Morrison’s wife. Please... I need to speak to him urgently.”
The woman, Sally Hoffis, let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Nate is resting. You can leave a message with me.”
“Please,” Suzanne pleaded, her voice breaking. “It’s a matter of life and death. Put him on.”
Sally’s tone shifted into a hissed venom. “Do you really think that marriage certificate makes you his wife? You used his grandmother’s influence to trap him. I’m the one he loves. You’re just a shameful interloper, Suzanne. You deserve whatever isolation you’ve found yourself in.”
In the background, Suzanne heard a faint, familiar voice. “Who is it, Sally?”
“Just a scam call, Nate,” Sally replied, promptly ending the connection.
The room erupted in mocking laughter from Ken and his men. “It looks like your husband has moved on,” Ken sneered. “He didn't even care enough to check the caller ID.”
The revelation shattered Suzanne more than the cold air of Technive ever could. She had been led to believe by Nathan’s grandmother that their union was based on mutual interest. Instead, she had unknowingly stepped into the middle of a fractured romance, becoming the villain in her own husband’s story.
As tears tracked through the dust on her cheeks, one of the younger men whispered nervously to Ken. “Wait... she said the name Nathan Morrison. You don't think she means the Nathan Morrison? The Commander of the Norvanian Military?”
A heavy silence fell over the group. Everyone in the region knew of Nathan Morrison—the legendary strategist who had dismantled insurgencies across the Middle East with surgical precision. If she was telling the truth, they hadn't just kidnapped a woman; they had declared war on a legend.