my escape plan

Kyra's pov

When I laid eyes on the expensive dress my handsome stranger had chosen for me, along with the elegant heels that accompanied it, a wave of realization washed over me: he was no ordinary man. Memories surged from the past, haunting reminders of my encounters with kidnappers—selfish souls seeking ransom, some demanding sums of five million, others an outrageous one billion. My parents always complied, succumbing to their threats without hesitation.

But this was different. This man wasn't extracting demands; instead, he was offering me a treasure trove of limited-edition clothing and luxurious handbags, each piece seemingly more magnificent than the last. I sat back in the plush chair, the weight of my thoughts heavy on my mind. The shock of his intentions—he wanted to take me on a date—left me speechless.

After a few moments of contemplation, a small smile crept across my lips. So, he wanted to play games? Well, Mister, I was more than ready to play along. This time, the stakes were different, and I was determined to rewrite the rules.

Once I finished dressing, my heart raced with anticipation as his men guided me through the corridors to his office. I embraced my identity as a woman, fully aware of the allure and beauty I possessed. I was determined to make him see it too. With each step, I plotted how to weave a spell of distraction that would ultimately ensnare him and make him mine.

As I entered the room, I caught a glimpse of him looking intently in my direction; a sly smile crept onto my lips, knowing I had played my part well. I could feel his gaze lingering, a mixture of intrigue and curiosity that fueled my confidence. The plan was simple yet ambitious, and with enough finesse, I was certain it would unfold just as I planned.

As we arrived at the restaurant, a wave of familiarity washed over me. Given everything happening around us, it was hardly a shock to discover he was a billionaire. Nevertheless, my thoughts were elsewhere; all I truly longed for was the comfort of home. Curiosity got the better of me, and I asked for his name. When he replied with a simple "Liam," a jolt of disquiet surged through me. My temples throbbed as if a long-buried memory was struggling to surface. I pressed my fingers against my forehead, sensing that there was something significant just out of reach.