Chapter 2

My mother was coerced into a union with my father, resulting in my birth. Their marriage lacked affection, and my mother eventually left him, unable to tolerate his controlling behavior. Even as a youngster, I could feel the strain in our household—the endless quarrels, the menacing presence of my father's unlawful activities. When my parents separated, I had the opportunity to choose, and I opted to stay with my mother. I couldn't bear my father's constant aggression or the ever-present threat of his illicit operations.

Once, during one of my infrequent visits to his residence, my father's typically hard gaze softened as he tearfully vowed to give up his criminal lifestyle—for me. He implored me to stay, assuring me he could change. But I departed anyway, and years passed without communication. Now, facing this grim predicament, the cruel irony of his broken promise struck me forcefully. His associates were still engaged in their old ways, and now they had gone so far as to abduct me.

Had I not been studying overseas for so long, or if my eyesight were better, perhaps I would have recognized Ridley and his cronies earlier. The realization was painful, leaving me both astonished and enraged.

"Ridley, have you gone mad? How could you kidnap me?" I exclaimed, my voice quivering with a blend of terror and anger.

Upon hearing my outburst, one of the henchmen hesitated, clearly surprised, before advancing towards me. Without warning, he struck me across the face, the impact causing my head to jerk sideways. Agony spread across my cheek and tears formed in my eyes.

"You must have a death wish! How dare you address the boss by his name?" the thug snarled, his fist clenched, ready to strike again.

Ridley swiftly intervened, pushing the thug back. "Wait," he said, his expression somber and cautious as he turned to face me. "How do you know my name?"

For a moment, I thought he had identified me. I took a risk and shouted, "Because I'm Ryan's daughter! Release me now, or my father will make you suffer when he finds out!"

The instant those words left my lips, Ridley's wary expression transformed into something far more ominous—mockery. He let out a harsh chuckle, his eyes glinting with disbelief.

"You? Claiming to be the don's daughter? You must be joking!"

Exasperated, I balled my fists, disregarding the stinging sensation in my cheek. "I truly am Ryan's daughter, Ariel!" I insisted, my voice rising desperately.

Ridley's sneer intensified as he roughly seized my collar, yanking me closer until our faces were mere inches apart. His breath carried a faint scent of tobacco and something sour, making me feel nauseous.

"Your credit card is issued to one Ariel Dylan. You're no relative," he spat, his voice dripping with disdain.

I hurriedly explained, "I was Ariel Elissa! Now I go by Ariel Dylan because I adopted my mother's surname after the divorce! If you don't believe me, check my phone's wallpaper. It's a picture of my father and me!"

My heart raced as I spoke. Ridley had been my father's right-hand man back then. He must have known my mother's name.

But to my dismay, his sneer only grew colder. Without hesitation, he grabbed a heavy wooden club lying nearby and swung it forcefully against my shin. Pain surged through my leg, sharp and unbearable, and I gasped, nearly collapsing from the impact.

"The boss and the missus have always been in love," Ridley hissed through gritted teeth. "How could they divorce? If you spread such lies again, I'll rip your mouth off!"

I stared at him in disbelief, barely registering the searing pain in my leg. Then it dawned on me—my father had kept the divorce a secret. He didn't want anyone speaking ill of my mother or giving his enemies reason to gloat. But that decision was now coming back to haunt me.

Just then, a lackey handed my phone to Ridley. My pulse quickened, a glimmer of hope igniting within me. If he saw the wallpaper, he'd have to recognize me. He couldn't deny the evidence right in front of him.

Ridley examined the phone intently, his eyes narrowing as he compared the photo to me. For a long moment, he remained silent, and I dared to hope. But then he spat at me in disgust, his lip curling in contempt.

"Unbelievable. You've been deceiving me this whole time! You expect me to believe a photoshopped picture of you with the boss?"

I opened my mouth to argue, but he cut me off. "The real Rubio was overweight," he said with a sneer. "You, with your social media-ready face, dare to pretend to be her?"

Raising the club again, Ridley prepared to strike. Terror paralyzed me. It was true—I used to be heavy. But after high school, my mother had enrolled me in a rigorous weight-loss program. I shed fifty pounds, learned proper makeup application, and refined my appearance.

Hearing people commend me for slimming down and looking attractive had once filled me with pride. Now, that same transformation had become a cruel joke. I couldn't help but laugh bitterly at the irony, the sound trembling as it escaped my lips.

Just as Ridley was about to bring the club down again, a heavily made-up woman with bold red lipstick and thick eyeliner stepped forward, placing a hand on his arm. "Boss, what if this little minx is the boss's mistress? If you harm her and the boss becomes angry, what then?" she suggested with a sly smile, her voice tinged with caution.

Before she could continue, Ridley shot her a murderous glare. "Are you out of your mind too? The boss and the missus are in love. There's no way he'd keep a mistress!"

He turned back to me, his eyes blazing with fury. "Now, even if she pays the bill, she's not leaving!" he growled. "I can't stand homewreckers like her!"