Kidnapping the Heiress, Shattering My Fiancée’s Lies

Claire made a bitter face. “Mr. Miller, where did you even get this marriage contract? It must be fake.”

“Even if it’s real, I’d have to check with my parents. How could I agree right away?”

“If I let you go now, I’ll never see you again.” I refused firmly.

At that moment, pounding shook the door again.

“Listen up! This is the police—you’re surrounded!”

“Come to your senses immediately. Release Miss Hamilton and put your hands on your head!”

I peered through the peephole. Outside stood dozens of armed officers.

Though I had expected this, my nerves tightened.

I had to explain myself, or they’d treat me like a rapist.

I opened the inner door, speaking through the metal gate.

“Officers, I haven’t harmed anyone. Miss Hamilton is my childhood fiancée. I’m asking her to honor our promise.”

I showed them the forged contract.

The moment they saw me, their guns trained on me.

“No matter what, you can’t hold Miss Hamilton hostage. That’s a crime!”

The squad leader, Captain Mark Evans, eased slightly but still warned me.

“Let her go now, and I’ll guarantee your safety.”

I shook my head. “No.”

“If she won’t marry me, then I’ll have to force the issue.”

“Kid, look at yourself. Do you really think you deserve the billionaire’s daughter?”

“Even if that contract were real, what then? A toad lusting after a swan!”

“Captain, arrange a sniper and take him out,” someone shouted.

In the commotion, two familiar figures were dragged out from the crowd.

“Son, don’t do anything foolish!”

“Jason, where did you get that contract? Look closely—that’s Miss Hamilton. She’s out of our league!”

Several men hauled out Mr. and Mrs. Miller.

A young thug with an earring smirked at me. “Kid, release Miss Hamilton now, or your parents will suffer!”

He punctuated his threat with a vicious punch to my father’s head.

Dad cried out, blood streaming down his face.

“Well? Will you release her or not? If not, I’ll beat him until you do!”

He didn’t stop, hammering Dad until he doubled over in pain.

My heart ached terribly, yet I laughed wildly.

“Go on, hit him! That old bastard never treated me well. If you didn’t hit him, I would!”

The crowd froze, then erupted in curses.

“What kind of monster of a son are you?”

“Better if his parents had given birth to a slab of meat!”

When my indifference didn’t sway me, the thug turned on my mother.

Mom was frail; a few punches knocked her unconscious.

Because it was for the billionaire’s daughter’s sake, no one intervened.

Blood dripped from my heart, but I couldn’t show the slightest trace of sorrow.

If I did, those arrogant heirs would beat my parents to death on the spot.

“Is that all you’ve got? Hit harder! There’s a stick over there—use it!”

I laughed maniacally, feigning madness.

“You bastard, fine—you’re ruthless!” the thug spat as the police pulled him back.

My father held up my unconscious mother, tears streaming.

“Jason Miller, you beast—you actually told them to beat us!”