Abandoned No More: Too Late To Love Me

Weeds choked the abandoned factory. In front of the entrance, a rusted-out red sedan sat as if it had been forgotten for years.

Inside, Summer Stewart's hands were bound behind her back, a strip of yellow duct tape sealing her lips.

A masked man crouched before her. His hoarse voice sent a shiver through the stale air.

"Miss Stewart. You're Trevor Larson's fiancée. $4 million in ransom... that's nothing to him. Go on. Call him yourself."

He tossed a battered old phone at her feet. Without another word, he ripped the tape from her mouth and sliced through the ropes binding her wrists.

Beep... beep... beep...

After what felt like an eternity, a deep, calm male voice finally answered.

"Hello?"

Summer trembled from head to toe.

"Trevor... I... I've been kidnapped. They want $4 million to let me go. Can you... please come save me?"

A brief silence, then Trevor's voice turned colder than ice.

"Summer, I already told you: Peyton is sick. Her last wish is to have this wedding. Stop playing these games."

Only then did it hit her.

The wedding was today.

Peyton was Trevor's first love, now condemned by a terminal illness.

Her dying wish: to marry the man she loved. When Summer learned Trevor had agreed, she had fought him with everything she had.

She shook her head frantically.

"I'm not lying... I swear! Please, you have to believe me!"

But Trevor's voice remained a blade, sharp and unforgiving.

"Summer, you will always be by my side. Why can't you be more understanding, just this once? My patience has its limits. You're crossing a line."

"Trevor, do you really not care if I live or die?" she asked, her voice tight with unshed tears. "If you don't come, then we're done!"

Trevor frowned.

Another threat to break up. "Summer, why can't you just be quiet for once?"

His patience had evaporated.

The kidnapper snatched the phone away.

"Mr. Larson, sounds like you don't care much for this woman. $4 million is pocket change for you. Are you paying or not?"

At that exact moment, in an opulent church, Trevor stood straight in his immaculate white suit, phone in hand. Across from him, Peyton, dressed in an ethereal wedding gown, wore a fragile smile.

Outside, a sea breeze drifted past guests who marveled at the beauty of the ceremony.

A slight smirk touched Trevor's lips.

"I'm not paying."

The kidnapper froze.

If he'd known, he would have kidnapped Trevor's first love-at least she was worth something.

Over the receiver, Peyton's soft, weak voice drifted through.

"Trevor, I'm so happy you're fulfilling my last wish. Even if this wedding is just for show, it's a memory I'll cherish forever. If Summer is doing this because she's jealous, maybe we should just... cancel the ceremony..."

Trevor's answer was firm.

"I made you a promise. And I intend to keep it."

The kidnapper let out a cold laugh.

"Well, Trevor, your fiancée is a real beauty... Aren't you afraid something might happen to her?" the kidnapper sneered.

Trevor's voice dripped with contempt.

"Do whatever you want. In fact, I'll give you an extra million to thank you."

Hearing those words, Summer choked back a sob.

She had spent five years chasing Trevor, loving him, cherishing him, believing that one day she could melt his frozen heart. But the moment Peyton returned, everything she had built had crumbled to dust. And now, Trevor was celebrating a grand wedding with another woman.

The kidnapper gave a cruel grin.

"Very well, Mr. Larson. Since you put it that way, we'll be sure to follow your orders!"

He hung up, then turned to Summer, his eyes gleaming with a sinister light.

"Miss Stewart, your fiancé is a merciless man. He's basically giving us permission to hurt you."

With a cold laugh, he forced something between Summer's lips, and she swallowed it reflexively.

Meanwhile, in the church, a strange sense of unease washed over Trevor.

He was used to Summer's tantrums. She had never been able to stand Peyton, and her jealousy was no secret.

For the past few days, she had been giving him the silent treatment over this sham wedding.

But this time, she had gone too far.

A kidnapping? Just to pull him away from Peyton?

He told himself he had spoiled her.

Once this farce was over, if Summer apologized, he would give her a real wedding, one even more lavish than this.

Peyton, noticing Trevor's darkening expression, lowered her eyes and murmured, "Trevor, I'm so sorry... This is all my fault."

"It's not your fault," he answered calmly.

Her fragile eyes glistened.

"So... shall we continue?" she asked softly.

Trevor hesitated for a fraction of a second, then answered, "Yes."

A barely perceptible, yet triumphant, smile touched Peyton's lips.

Summer would never win against her.

Back in the factory, Summer stared at the now-silent phone. Her heart felt as if it had been ripped from her chest and shattered.

All hope died within her.

She had to save herself.

Silently, she fumbled for the small knife the man had dropped on the floor. She waited for the right moment... then slashed at her remaining bonds, scrambled to her feet, and bolted for the warehouse exit.

"Catch her! Don't let her get away!" the kidnapper roared, furious.

The drug was already taking effect. A fire spread through Summer's veins, but she kept running-barefoot, gasping-down the deserted road. The footsteps behind her grew closer... and closer.

Her heart hammered against her ribs.

The area was completely isolated, with not a soul in sight.

Suddenly, a sleek black Porsche, a rare and impossibly expensive model, tore down the road at full speed. Summer didn't hesitate.

Better to be hit by a car than to be dragged back into their hands.

She closed her eyes and threw herself in front of the vehicle.

The tires screamed against the asphalt, a sound that ripped through the silence.

The Porsche skidded to a halt just inches from her, but the momentum sent her sprawling to the hard ground.

A few seconds later, the driver's door opened. A pair of flawlessly polished black leather shoes touched the pavement.

Long, powerful legs encased in tailored trousers strode toward her.

The man crouched down.

When Summer lifted her head and her eyes focused on his face, her heart stopped.

"You... It's you..."