I have a severe panic disorder. The smallest things can trigger a massive attack. Because of this, I've always lived my life with extreme caution. But on the eve of my engagement, an old flip phone mysteriously appeared inside my penthouse—an apartment protected by a high-tech biometric lock. There was a single message glowing on the screen: "Ten million dollars to leave Julian Vance. Or I will ruin your wedding." I was shaking, absolutely terrified. That very night, Julian upgraded the apartment's security to military grade. He kissed my forehead gently and whispered, "Don't be scared, Chloe. I'm here. No one can touch you." His close friend, Victoria, only mocked my fragility. "Scared by a petty prank? How can Julian ever trust you with his empire or wealth if you're this fragile?" With Julian's constant comfort, I tried my best to calm down. But the threats only got worse. The terror began eating me alive. I suffered two episodes of stomach bleeding from the sheer stress, spending my nights curled up inside the closet, too terrified to close my eyes. Finally, the day of our rehearsal dinner arrived on a luxury yacht. But during the toast, Julian projected those exact threatening messages onto the giant screens for all our guests to see. He smiled and announced: "Sorry to startle everyone. This was actually a stress and loyalty test I designed for my fiancée. And she passed beautifully." The crowd erupted into thunderous applause. The keys to a multi-million-dollar estate were presented to me on a silver platter as my reward. I stared at his deeply affectionate face, but I didn't reach for the keys. There would be no happily ever after for us.
There were forty-five days left until the wedding of the century. The moment I pushed open my penthouse door, my foot hit something hard. It was a black velvet gift box, sitting quietly on the pristine white cashmere rug in the foyer. My heart skipped a beat. This penthouse used a state-of-the-art biometric lock that scanned both irises and veins. Aside from Julian and me, even the cleaning staff could only enter during specific hours, escorted by our private concierge. Who could have slipped this inside without a sound? With trembling hands, I opened the box. There was no bomb, no written threat. Inside was just an old, outdated black cell phone, and a printout of my wedding portrait—slashed and smeared with red paint. Suddenly, the phone screen lit up. A text message popped up: "Ten million dollars to leave Julian Vance. Reply before midnight, or I will make sure you drag the Vance name through the mud on your wedding day." Cold sweat instantly soaked through my back. I stumbled toward the kitchen island, grabbed my personal phone, and dialed Julian. It rang three times before he picked up. In the background, I could hear the rustle of papers from a board meeting. Julian kept his voice low, sounding slightly annoyed but still gentle. "Chloe, I'm in a meeting. What's wrong?" "Someone was inside..." My teeth chattered as I stared at the old phone like it was a venomous snake. "Someone got into our home. They left something. They're offering me ten million dollars to leave you!" There was a silence on the other end for about five seconds. The background noise suddenly vanished. Julian's voice turned dead serious. "Stay exactly where you are. Don't touch anything. I'll be there in ten minutes." He meant it. Ten minutes later, he burst out of the elevator with two bodyguards. The moment he walked in, he pulled my shaking body tightly into his arms. His large hand cupped the back of my head, feeling my frantic, racing heartbeat. "You're safe, Chloe. I've got you." He glanced at the box on the floor, his eyes instantly turning cold. He ordered his guard, "Check the security footage, call the police, and get this box dusted for prints." I clutched his bespoke designer suit, my knuckles turning white. "Julian, the lock wasn't forced. How did they get in?" Julian knelt down. Using a gloved hand, he flipped the ruined photo over. Written on the back in messy ink was: [Your fiancé is much dirtier than you think.] He let out a cold scoff and tossed the photo into a plastic evidence bag. "Ten million to buy my future wife? What a cheap threat. It's probably a desperate move by a business competitor or some bankrupt enemy. Chloe, have you been showing off your wealth on social media lately?" I froze. His question was casual, but it felt like a sharp needle piercing my nerves. "No," I said quickly. "I barely post anything on Instagram. You know that. Ever since we got engaged, I cut off almost everyone." "I was just asking. Don't be nervous." He immediately softened his tone, carrying me over to the sofa and pressing a glass of warm water into my hands. "With the wedding coming up, people will try dirty tricks. I'm just worried you'll let this scare you to death." The police arrived that afternoon. After taking our statements, the detective delivered some frustrating news. The hallway and elevator cameras had undergone a system upgrade just half an hour prior, leaving a ten-minute blind spot. There was no footage. And since the sender had only sent a single text without making physical threats, they could only file a report. Julian put immense pressure on the building management right in front of the police. Once they left, he turned back to comfort me. That evening, Victoria, his childhood best friend and our wedding planner, dropped by. She walked in on high heels, looking around the heavily guarded penthouse with a mocking smirk. "Chloe, aren't you overreacting a bit? A piece of spam mail and you drag Julian away from a multi-billion-dollar merger?" I clutched a throw pillow, my stomach churning in pain. "Someone was inside our home." "Maybe you just didn't close the door properly?" Victoria sat down next to Julian and poured herself a glass of red wine. "Stalkers and obsessed fans do crazy things these days. But honestly, ten million? If you actually took the money, Julian would be the laughingstock of high society." "Shut up, Victoria," Julian said coldly. "Chloe is sensitive. Stop with the sarcastic remarks." Victoria shrugged. "I'm just joking. I'm just saying, if she wants to be the wife of the CEO of the Vance Group, she needs a stronger spine. What if someone offers her a hundred million next time? Or threatens her life? Is she going to call the cops every single day?" Julian didn't argue with Victoria's logic. He only held me tighter, resting his chin on my head. "My woman doesn't need to be strong. I will protect her." That night, the penthouse security was upgraded to military-grade. Julian stayed with me, holding me tight in the master bedroom. But I woke up gasping at two in the morning. I had suddenly remembered something. The black velvet box in the foyer had been tied with an incredibly complex double-loop sailor's knot. I had only ever seen one person tie a knot that way. Julian.
The second threat came much faster than I expected, and it was far more terrifying. Thirty days until the wedding. I went to a luxury bridal salon for my final dress fitting. Because of the previous incident, Julian had two bodyguards standing right outside my fitting room. The salon had been completely cleared out for me. Only two designers and I were in the studio. I stood in front of the massive floor-to-ceiling mirror, wearing a cathedral-length gown encrusted with thousands of tiny diamonds. Suddenly, the old phone—which Julian insisted I keep with me for "location tracking"—vibrated in my purse. I froze. The designer kneeling to adjust my hem didn't notice. Taking a deep breath, I pulled out the phone. It was a photo. In the picture, I was wearing this exact dress, shot from behind. The photo clearly showed the small section of the waist that was temporarily pinned because I had lost weight. Below it was a text: "Thirty million. By the way, you've gotten thinner. Are you skipping meals, or are you too terrified to sleep?" I whipped my head around! Behind me, there were only empty racks and large windows. The building across the street was at least fifty yards away. "Someone is watching me!" I screamed, pushing the designer away and running out of the room, clutching my heavy skirts. The bodyguards rushed in, immediately drawing all the heavy curtains. I curled up in the corner of the fitting room, shaking violently. Cold sweat ruined my makeup. The feeling of being watched like a trapped rat choked the air right out of my lungs. By the time Julian arrived, I was on the verge of a total breakdown. Seeing my pale face, his brows furrowed deeply. He snatched the old phone, staring at the photo. Then, he called his security chief, his voice icy. "Pull all security footage from the building across the street for the last hour! Don't let a single soul slip away!" I grabbed his arm, my nails digging into his skin. "Julian, take me away... He's nearby. He's watching me right now!" "Chloe, look at me." Julian grabbed my wrists. His grip was so tight it hurt. His gaze was intense and domineering. "The more you panic, the more you play into his hands. He's just a rat hiding in the shadows. You are going to be Mrs. Vance. You cannot let a cheap trick break you." I looked at him, tears streaming down my face. "But he took a picture of me inside the fitting room! What's next? Is he going to stand in front of me with a knife?" Julian swept me up into his arms and walked toward the elevator. "There won't be a next time. Starting today, you are moving to the Apex Estate. Not even an unregistered bird can fly in there. We are throwing away your phones. Your only contacts will be me and your parents." "But the wedding..." "The wedding goes on," he said firmly, leaving no room for argument. "If we cancel the wedding over a few text messages, the Vance family will lose face. And I will not back down." Once I moved to the Apex Estate, I was completely isolated. No internet, no social media. Even if I wanted to call my best friend, Julian would stay by my side under the guise of "keeping me company." He took the old phone, claiming he sent it to a top-tier hacking team to trace the IP. I became a golden canary locked in a gilded cage. My only connection to the outside world was Julian, who came home every evening to have dinner with me. On the third night, Victoria came by to drop off the guest list. Seeing how pale and exhausted I looked, a flash of smug satisfaction crossed her eyes. "Chloe, aren't you being a bit dramatic? If you're this fragile, what are you going to do if someone sets off a firecracker at the wedding? Pass out on the altar?" I bit my bloodless lip and said nothing. Julian walked over, carrying a bowl of soothing chamomile tea. He handed it to me and frowned at Victoria. "That's enough. Leave the list and go. Chloe has a sensitive stomach, she doesn't need you stressing her out." Victoria threw the list onto the table. "Julian, I'm saying this for your own good. The price is up to thirty million now. What if they offer a hundred million? Can you guarantee she won't take it? There are too many gold-digging women out there who would run with that kind of cash." "Get out," Julian said. His voice wasn't loud, but it was freezing cold. Victoria's face paled. She bit her lip, turned on her heels, and stormed out. Once the door closed, Julian pulled me into his chest, rubbing my back. "Don't listen to her. I know my Chloe isn't like that. Even if they offered ten billion, you would never betray me, right?" He was asking me a question. But his tone sounded more like he was demanding a vow of absolute submission. I leaned against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat, and whispered, "Yes."
That thirty-million-dollar threat became a curse, initiating a new round of torment. Twenty days until the wedding. Because the Apex Estate was heavily guarded, the stalker seemed to have vanished. My frayed nerves finally relaxed a little, and I asked Julian if I could see the venue for our rehearsal dinner. Julian gladly agreed. He had rented a massive luxury yacht for the event. By evening, the wind over the water was strong. Julian had to take an urgent international video call, so he left the bodyguards outside while I rested alone in the VIP lounge on the second deck. The room was quiet, filled only with the sound of waves hitting the hull. Suddenly, with a sharp click, all the lights went out. The entire second deck plunged into pitch-black darkness. My heart gasped. I stood up to feel my way to the door, but in the dark, I heard incredibly soft footsteps. "Who's there?!" my voice shook. The guards outside didn't answer. The footsteps stopped less than two feet away from me. A faint scent of expensive cologne drifted past. Then, a deep, digitally altered voice whispered right into my ear, so close I could feel his breath: "Fifty million, plus three villas in Tuscany. Chloe, this is your last chance." He called me Chloe. Only my parents and Julian called me Chloe! "Who are you?! Get away from me!" I screamed, grabbing a glass from the table and hurling it toward the voice. The sound of shattering glass pierced the dark. I ran blindly toward the door, but my foot came down hard on the shards. A sharp, agonizing pain shot through me, and I collapsed, hearing a sickening crack from my right ankle. "Ah!" I curled into a ball on the floor, crying out in pure despair. "Julian! Help me! Julian!" Suddenly, the door was kicked open with a loud bang. Light flooded the room. Julian rushed in, looking like a savior emerging from the light. A crowd of panicked guards and staff followed behind him. "Chloe!" He rushed over and scooped me up. Seeing my bloody foot and swollen ankle, his eyes turned red with fury. He roared at his men, "Are you all useless?! What do I pay you for?! Search the yacht! Turn this ship upside down!" I clutched his tie, trembling in his arms. "He was just here... he called me Chloe... Julian, I'm so scared, I'm so scared..." "You're safe, I've got you," Julian whispered, kissing my forehead repeatedly. "No one can take you away. You are mine." He held me tightly all the way to the hospital. As the doctor cleaned the glass shards and put my ankle in a cast, I was sweating from the pain. Julian put his hand over my mouth. "Bite me. Don't hurt yourself." Looking at the blood on his cuffs, my tears fell. I bit down hard on his hand. He didn't even flinch, using his other hand to wipe my tears. In that moment, I truly believed he was the man who loved me more than life itself. But then. After the doctor left and Julian went to the bathroom to wash the blood off his hands, his jacket slipped from the bedside chair. The old flip phone—the one that was supposed to be with a "hacking team"—slid out of his pocket. The screen lit up with a new notification. As if possessed, I reached out and tapped the screen. There was no passcode. The message was brief: "Mr. Vance, we've done several rounds of threats now. Should we continue?" My blood turned to ice. Those words felt like a scalpel, slicing right through all my terror, my gratitude, my breakdowns, and my tears. I stared at the screen, a loud, high-pitched ringing filling my ears. The sound of running water in the bathroom stopped. I quickly slipped the phone back into his jacket pocket, lay back on the bed, closed my eyes, and forced my breathing to slow down. Julian walked out, his steps light. He came to the bedside, tucked the blanket around me, and then pulled out his phone to check it. I could feel his gaze on my face, lingering for so long that it took everything in me not to open my eyes. Finally, he turned and stepped out of the room to make a call. The door wasn't fully closed. His whispered voice drifted in from the hallway: "The test is over. I'll wire the remaining balance to your account. Tell Victoria to cancel the next phases. She's on the verge of a breakdown." "...Yes, the results are perfect. She doesn't trust anyone but me now." I opened my eyes in the dark. Tears ran down silently, cold and biting. There was no crazy stalker. It was just the man I was about to marry, hiring people to put me through a sick "loyalty and dependency test." Every desperate cry for help, every tear I cried in his arms, and every ounce of panic I felt had been nothing but data points on his perfect progress report.
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "NovelMaster" app ? search for "463138", and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster