Dear ex-Wife please be mine again

Christiana’s POV

Cold water splashed over my head, jolting me awake with a sharp gasp. I coughed, sputtering as the icy sensation hit my skin, sending shivers down my spine. My hair clung to my face, drenched, but all I could feel was the surge of anger bubbling up inside me. No more fear. Not today,

I blinked against the harsh light streaming through the cracks of the warehouse windows. Dawn. The night had come and gone, and yet they were still here, still masked, still silent, still looming over me like faceless shadows.

But I wasn’t the same as I was yesterday. No pleading. No begging. My mind wasn’t on my captors anymore. It was on my children, Ethan and Emma. They needed me. They were probably terrified, waiting for me to come home. My heart clenched at the thought of their tear–streaked faces, but I swallowed that fear, burying it beneath my anger.

“What do you want?” I spat, glaring at the men. My voice was hoarse, but the fury behind it was unmistakable. “Who sent you? Why are you keeping me here like this? Answer me!”

They remained silent, their eyes hidden behind the black fabric of their masks. The sound of my own ragged breathing filled the air as I strained against the ropes binding me to the chair. My wrists were sore, rubbed raw from my earlier struggles, but I wasn’t about to stop

I cursed under my breath, the rage spilling over. “What is this?” I yelled, my voice echoing in the empty space. going to kill me, then just get it over with! Stop making me suffert I’m not afraid of you!”

“If you’re

One of the men stepped forward, his movements slow and deliberate. I tensed, glaring at him through the strands of wet hair falling into my eyes.

“We’re just following instructions,” he said finally, his voice cold, devoid of any emotion.

“Instructions?” I snapped, laughing bitterly. “How much did they pay you, huh? How much for my life? Whatever it is, I’ll triple it! I swear, I’ll give you whatever you want. Just let me go. My kids need me!” My voice cracked at the end, but I forced myself to stay strong, locking eyes with him even though I couldn’t see his face.

The man didn’t flinch, didn’t react to my outburst. He merely tilted his head slightly, as if contemplating my offer, but there was no real consideration in his posture. He was a puppet, and I wasn’t the one pulling the strings.

He shook his head, his voice flat. “It’s not about money”

I grined my teeth, my jaw tightening. “Then what? What do you want from me? I’m innocent! I haven’t done a thing to hurt anyone.”

Silence. Again.

The frustration boiled over, and before I knew it, I spat in his direction, my hands curling into fists despite the bindings “Cowards! All of you! Hiding behind masks, doing someone else’s dirty work. If you had any decency, you’d end this now.”

The man wiped the spit from his mask slowly, his body language calm, too calm, and that unnerved me. He bent down slightly, meeting my eyes through the narrow slits in his mask. “We don’t need to explain anything to you. All you

need to know is that this… isn’t personal.”

I huffed, rolling my eyes in disbelief. “Not personal? You’re keeping me tied up like some animal while my children…” My voice broke, but I quickly recovered….my children are crying for me, wondering if I’m ever coming back. And you say it’s not personal?”

He stood straight again, silent, unmoved. None of them flinched. None of them cared.

The tears stung at the corners of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Not now. I wouldn’t let them see me break

THE

18.14 FT!,

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“I’m innocent,” I whispered, shaking my head, more to myself than to them. “You have the wrong person. Whoever you think I am, whatever you think I’ve done.. you’re wrong”

But deep down, I knew they weren’t listening. They didn’t care about innocence or guilt. They only cared about their orders. I could see it in their cold, empty stares, in the rigid way they moved. To them, I was just a job, a task to be completed.

My body shook with anger and frustration. I was trapped, bound by ropes and helpless to do anything. But one thing was certain, I would not stop fighting. Not for a second.

“I don’t care who sent you.” I muttered, my voice low but fierce. “But if I ever get out of here.. I will make them pay. Every single one of you will pay.”

The room fell silent again, but I didn’t care anymore. I had said what I needed to say. Now, all I could do was wait. Wait for an opportunity. Wait for a miracle. Wait for someone to come for me.

Hours passed. The only sounds in the room were the faint hum of a distant engine and the muffled footsteps of my captors moving around outside. My wrists ached, my back stiff from sitting in the same position for so long, but I refused to let myself slump. Not now. Not when I needed to stay strong, for myself, for my children.

Suddenly, the door creaked open, and one of the kidnappers stepped inside, carrying a tray. The smell of food hit me instantly, bread, some kind of stew, and water. My stomach twisted in hunger, but I glared at the tray, refusing to show even the slightest sign of weakness. Upstodatee from Novel(D)ra/m/a.O(r)g

He placed it down in front of me, the metal clang echoing in the cold, dark room. I stared at the food, my mind immediately jumping to one thought: poison. My gut screamed that this wasn’t just food. This was another way to break me, to weaken me. They wanted me vulnerable, and I wasn’t about to give them that satisfaction.

“Eat,” the man said flatly, his voice muffled behind the mask.

1 glared up at him, crossing my arms as best I could in my bound position. “You think I’m stupid? You want me to eat that so you can kill me slowly?”

He tilted his head, the mask giving nothing away, no expression, no flicker of emotion. Then, without a word, he reached down, took a piece of the bread, and ripped it in half. Slowly, deliberately, he lifted it to his mouth and ate it, chewing it with the casual air of someone trying to prove a point.

I blinked, momentarily thrown off. He didn’t say a word. Just ate. As if reading my mind, he reached down again, dipping the bread into the stew and taking another bite, his movements slow and deliberate.

For a moment, I couldn’t think. If it was poisoned, he wouldn’t eat it. Unless…unless he had the antidote, or maybe they had built up a tolerance to it. My mind raced through every possible scenario, but deep down, I knew I couldn’t hold out forever. My stomach growled loudly, betraying my hunger.

He wiped his hand on a napkin and stood back, watching me, his silence more intimidating than if he had spoken. He didn’t care. Whether I ate or not was irrelevant to him. I was just a job.

I looked at the food again. My heart ached as my thoughts drifted to Ethan and Emma. If something happened to me, ΗΤ didn’t survive this what would happen to them? They needed me alive. They needed me strong. Even if it meant taking a risk

I glanced up at the masked man again. He stood there, arms crossed, waiting. A part of me wanted to throw the food back in his face, but I couldn’t afford that kind of rebellion right now. I needed my strength. I needed to think of my kids.

I’m only eating this because my children need me,” I muttered under my breath, more to myself than to him.

The man didn’t respond. He just stood there, like a statue.

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I picked up the bread slowly, feeling its warmth between my fingers. My hands trembled slightly as I brought it to my mouth. The moment the bread touched my lips, the hunger hit me harder than I expected. I tore into it, chewing quickly, my mind racing as I swallowed.

The stew wasn’t much, lukewarm, watery, but it was enough to fill the gnawing emptiness in my stomach. I hated how much I needed it, how desperate I was for nourishment, but I kept eating, forcing down each bite. Every mouthful tasted like defiance. I would survive this. I would see my children again. No matter what.

As I drank from the water cup, my eyes never left the masked man. He didn’t move, didn’t flinch, just watched. When I finished, he took the tray and left the room without a word, leaving me alone again.

I leaned back in the chair, my body exhausted but my mind still sharp. They hadn’t spoken, hadn’t given me any

information, but I was still alive. That had to mean something.