In the hillside villa, the scent of flowers mingled with the air, rushing into one's nose.
The old villa, styled with European flair, wore a veil of mystery.
A luxury, limited-edition black Rolls-Royce sped forward, coming to a stop with a long SKREEECH at the villa's grand gate.
Barely half a second passed before a man in a black suit swiftly exited the car, rounded it to the passenger side, and opened the door.
"I can walk by myself!"
Nia Mitchell watched the stern-faced CEO, Maxwell Peary, as he reached over to unbuckle her seatbelt, seemingly poised to hoist her over his shoulder again.
"You have no say in this matter."
Maxwell looked solemn. His brow furrowed slightly at her defiant words, but he didn't hesitate to lift her by the waist.
"Hey, let me go."
Nia's legs flailed in protest, but she was no match for his strength.
"Maxwell Peary, let me go! You're the one who wanted a divorce; we're divorced now. This is kidnapping! You're kidnapping me!"
