"How much for the shrimp?" a young woman asked the food vendor, her voice slightly raised above the chatter of the crowded marketplace.
"Fifty for a scoop," the vendor replied, barely looking up as he sorted fresh seafood behind his stall.
"Give me two," she said, fishing coins from her purse.
She received her purchase, thanked him briefly, and stuffed the warm packet into her grocery bag. Her pace was brisk, weaving past clusters of vendors calling out prices, and children tugging on their mothers' dresses. The market was a chaotic mix of noise, color, and smells—fried fish, fresh vegetables, roasted maize, and diesel fumes from nearby tuk-tuks all blended in the summer air. She didn't notice the sleek black car inching toward her until the engine roared.
Startled, Julie stepped aside to allow it to pass. But instead of moving on, the vehicle screeched to a halt directly in front of her. Her eyes narrowed.
Before she could react, two tall men in black suits leapt out of the vehicle. Their movements were quick—professional. One grabbed her arm, the other restrained her by the waist. She screamed, kicked, punched—her fight instincts alive and savage. But they were faster. Stronger. Trained.
"Let me go!" she shouted, slamming her heel into one of their shins.
A grunt followed, then a hiss of frustration. "Put her in the boot. Now."
They dragged her toward the car as she continued to struggle, managing to scratch one across the face. Her fists flew, and someone gasped in pain, but it was not enough. They forced her into the trunk of the car, slamming it shut over her cries.
The car sped off.
Inside the cramped, suffocating space, Julie gasped for air. Her body trembled with adrenaline and fear. The car ride was bumpy and lasted what felt like an eternity—though it couldn't have been more than twenty minutes. When they finally stopped, the boot creaked open.
Julie didn't wait.
As soon as the first man leaned forward, her foot shot out, landing squarely on his face. He yelled, stumbling back. Another grabbed her ankles. She fought like a cornered animal—until a sharp sting pierced her neck. A syringe.
The world began to blur.
"What... what did you... do to me…" she murmured, her voice slurring.
"Is she the one?" a voice asked in the haze.
"Confirmed. That's her."
"Okay. Take her to the operating room."
Julie's eyes fluttered. Panic thumped in her chest. Operating room? What are they going to do to me? Her limbs were heavy. She tried to scream, but the sound never made it out. The hallway above her twisted, lights flashing in dizzy patterns as she was rushed on a gurney.
"She's waking up!" someone warned.
"Add another dose."
Another jab. Another wave of darkness.
When Julie woke again, everything was still.
The sterile scent of disinfectant filled her nose. She blinked, trying to make sense of her surroundings. The ceiling was white. The walls, white. The floor, polished tile that gleamed under soft LED lights. She sat up slowly, heart pounding. Her body ached faintly, but there were no bandages, no stitches. No signs of surgery.
A shaky breath escaped her lips.
She was alone. Completely alone.
Where was she?
The room held only a single bed, a metallic door, and dim ambient lighting. No windows. No sounds of life.
Julie tested the door handle.
To her surprise—it opened.
Peeking outside, she saw no one. Just a clean hallway with a row of closed doors and dim lighting. Silence blanketed the space like snow.
Cautiously, she slipped out, her bare feet silent on the cold floor. As she moved, a hidden security camera followed her, unnoticed. Somewhere in a darkened control room, a woman with an eerie smirk watched Julie's every move.
"She's out," the woman muttered. "Let's see how far she gets."
An evil laugh echoed softly in the control room as Julie reached an exit door, stepped into a side alley, and vanished into the streets.
Julie walked for hours, lost and disoriented. Her mind raced.
What did they do to me? Why me? Why pretend to operate and then leave me unharmed? What was the point of all this?
She needed answers—and protection. The only place she could think of was the police.
Boarding a crowded bus, she kept her head down, avoiding attention. Her clothes were wrinkled. She looked out of place. People stared, but no one spoke. When she finally arrived at the local police post, she hurried inside.
A young officer at the desk looked up. The color drained from his face. He stammered, knocking over a pen.
"Madam… Welcome… Welcome! Please, sit down! I-I'll call the inspector right away!"
Julie blinked, confused. "What—?"
He didn't let her finish. "Right this way! Here, have some tea. Please, relax."
She sat, bewildered, as the officer all but fled.
Within moments, a tall man in a neatly pressed uniform strode in. "Mrs. Dan Mat! Thank God you're alive! Your husband has been looking for you nonstop. You've been missing for two weeks!"
Julie stood, confused. "Wait. What? I think there's a mistake."
"No, madam. You're Julie Dan Mat, wife of Mr. David Dan Mat—the wealthiest man in the world. You went missing from your estate."
She shook her head in disbelief. "No. My name is Julie Montana. I don't know this David person. I'm not married. You've got the wrong woman."
The inspector furrowed his brows. "Are you feeling well? Did you hit your head during the time you were missing?"
Julie swallowed hard. "I came to report that I was kidn—"
The door opened with a soft click.
A man stepped in.
He was tall, commanding, dressed in a black designer suit. His chiseled features and piercing gray eyes radiated power—and something else. A quiet danger.
Julie froze.
The inspector stood at once, bowing. "Good day, sir!"
The man didn't respond. His eyes locked onto Julie like a predator spotting prey. Without a word, he strode toward her, seized her arm, and pulled her to her feet.
"Hey! Let go of me! Who do you think you are? I'm not your pet!" she yelled, struggling.
He ignored her, opened the back door of a sleek black car, and shoved her inside. He locked the doors, circled to the other side, and got in without a word.
Julie banged on the window. "Let me out! I'm not your wife! I don't even know you!"
He started the car, his expression unreadable.
"What is wrong with you?! You can't just abduct people off the street!"
He glanced at her, his lips curling into a smirk. "You really think that trick's going to work on me? You've tried this before, and I fell for it. Not this time."
Julie stared at him, stunned. "What the hell are you talking about?! I've never seen you before in my life!"
He didn't respond.
Her rage built. "You're insane!"
His hand flew suddenly. A slap cracked across her cheek. Julie's head whipped to the side. The sting was sharp. Her breath caught in her throat.
"Stop talking," he growled. "After what you did—do you really think I'd let you go just like that?"
Tears welled in Julie's eyes—not from the pain, but from the sudden clarity that something was deeply, terribly wrong.
This man thought she was someone else. Everyone did. The police, this stranger, even the cameras watching her escape. And whoever had taken her—had done something to her. Something she couldn't understand yet.
But she would.
No matter what, she would find the truth. And when she did… someone would pay.