My Runaway Bride Hid A Million Mysteries

Helena Gibson's brows were furrowed with concern as she stared at the pregnancy test. The tension she had been carrying seemed to finally dissipate with the sight of a single line indicating a negative result.

Bang!

The sound of the bathroom door being violently kicked open jolted Helena back from her brief relief.

Her face twisted into an expression of sheer panic as she turned towards the noise, her eyes wide with terror.

The man stormed in, his impatience booming through the room. "You've been in here forever! Did you check? Are you pregnant or not?"

Helena stood trembling, her face drained of color, the tiny red mole near her eye dimming with her fear.

The man loomed over her like a predator on the brink of violence, his presence oppressive and threatening.

He grabbed her arm forcefully, his eyes red and voice harsh. "Show me the test strip. Now."

With shaking hands, Helena extended the strip towards him.

He snatched it, his laugh chillingly dismissive as his eyes glinted with a dangerous light.

Helena tensed, recognizing the calm before the storm.

This time, however, the man's approach was unnervingly gentle as he stroked her cheek, his cruelty masked by feigned tenderness. "It's alright, sweetheart. We'll try again today. If it doesn't happen, I might just leave you there permanently."

A sharp glint of defiance flickered briefly in Helena's eyes, though her face remained etched with panic, her eyes pooling with tears.

Pleased by her seemingly vulnerable demeanor, the man tightened his grip on her wrist, forcefully leading her to another room.

Bang!

The door slammed shut, echoing through the space as the other women in the room turned their heads in unison, their faces etched with the same vacant despair.

Like Helena, they were trapped in this dingy house, awaiting their fate as mere objects of pleasure for the elite on a secluded island somewhere in Eyrery.

A month prior, Helena had been forcibly brought to this place.

She was the firstborn of the Gibson family, whose fortune rested on the support of her mother's wealthy relatives. Tragically, her mother died young, and within three months, her father had remarried, giving Helena a half-sister, Eunice Gibson.

The loss of his daughter devastated Helena's grandfather, leading to his decline and eventual death, rendering Helena a forgotten member of her own family.

To avoid conflict, Helena kept to herself, not challenging Eunice. However, Eunice and her mother made it their mission to ensure Helena's life miserable, depriving her of warmth and sustenance, and greedily eyeing the Gibson fortune.

What fueled Helena's bitterness further was the betrayal on her 21st birthday, when her stepfamily drugged her and sold her off to a remote island off the coast of Eyrery.

Reflecting on her fate, Helena's gaze hardened.

She moved forward, and the women in the corner shuffled to make space for her.

In such dire circumstances, unity was essential, yet no one dared approach her, their eyes wide with apprehension.

On Helena's first day here, rumors had spread that she had been taken to a club and had serviced a high-profile client.

Since then, she had been subjected to frequent pregnancy tests-evidence that those in charge were eager for her to conceive, likely to blackmail the influential patron.

This mysterious figure was undoubtedly affluent.

A woman with short hair next to Helena whispered worriedly, "Hey, are you pregnant?"

Helena's fists tightened reflexively.

Her thoughts flashed back to that night at the club, her attempt to flee leading her into a dimly lit private room.

Suddenly grabbed and forced against a sofa, she found herself staring up into piercing, icy eyes as a hand clamped her chin.

Though capable of defending herself, the knife at her throat left her powerless.

The ensuing violence was a blur of pain and torn clothing, the last thing she remembered before blacking out was the sinister, intricately inked Henna tattoo on the man's hand glowing ominously in the dim light.

When she regained consciousness, she was back in the apartment where the girls were been held captive.

Helena sensed the gravity of her situation-this was merely the start.

Soon, she was once again escorted from the apartment.

Silently following the man, her thoughts churned wildly. She could not endure another night at that club. She had to escape. She needed to avenge her past and reclaim her mother's legacy.

Yet caution was paramount; the man was armed with a gun.

In a moment of desperation, she made her move.

With sudden ferocity, Helena shoved the man aside and dashed for the stairs!

Caught off guard, the man stumbled, but then recovered, shouting after her in rage, "Damn it! You think you can run away? I'll kill you!"

Helena didn't look back, descending the stairs in a flurry. Reaching the second floor, she didn't hesitate, climbing onto the windowsill.

As the man's hand nearly grasped her, she jumped!

The stark sound of screeching brakes ripped through the quiet as she hit the pavement.

Blinded by the glaring headlights, she crumpled to the ground. The distinct sound of leather shoes approached across the cobblestones, halting ominously before her.

Blurry and disoriented, Helena saw the gloss of black leather shoes enter her field of view, and a chilling, low voice declared from above, "Found you."