The Billionaire's unwanted wife

Chapter 14: The Rescue

The moment Jordan revealed the location of the hideout, Alex gave the order. Everyone mobilized immediately, including Carter, who had only recently returned home. The SUV raced through empty roads, its headlights slicing through the darkness. Inside, the atmosphere was thick with tension. No one spoke. Each man was lost in thought, clinging to hope but haunted by uncertainty. Four months of searching, four long, agonizing months, and now they were finally here.

The warehouse stood isolated, buried deep within an overgrown forest like a relic of a forgotten time. No wonder it had taken so long to find. Bushes choked the path, vines curled around rusting fences, and shadows loomed like sentinels.

Alex barked orders the moment they arrived. "Carter, take the rear entrance with five men. Jordan, with me through the front. The rest, surround the perimeter, no one gets out."

Guns drawn, they moved.

Gunfire broke the silence like thunder splitting the sky. The clash of bullets echoed through the warehouse. Carter’s team engaged the guards. Screams. Chaos. The scent of gunpowder thick in the air. Alex and Jordan kicked in the front door, their hearts pounding. They stormed through room after room ,empty cages, blood-stained walls, shattered glass,but no sign of her. No sign of Bella.

A heavy dread settled in Alex’s chest.

Had they come to the wrong place? Was the intel fake? Would he have to return home and shatter the flicker of hope everyone had held onto? How could he tell them,her grandfather, her mother, Celeste,that she wasn’t there? He clenched his fists, refusing to accept it.

Just as they turned to leave, something caught Alex’s eye,a small metallic panel on the wall. Curiosity pushed him toward it. He pressed the button. A low hiss sounded, and a hidden door creaked open.

"Jordan," he said, eyes wide.

They entered the narrow corridor. Darkness swallowed them whole. Jordan flicked on his flashlight, its beam slicing through the blackness. A few feet in, the light hit something, metal bars. A cage.

Her.

Isabella.

Curled up like a wounded animal, her limbs frail, her skin ashen. She was unrecognizable. Her hair hung limp around her shoulders. Her eyes,once vibrant, were hollow, distant. She didn’t even flinch.

Alex couldn’t move.

Inside the cage, Isabella stared blankly at the wall, waiting for the routine beatings, the mockery, the silence. The sound of gunfire hadn’t startled her. She’d simply hoped one of the bullets would find her and end it all.

When the door opened, she waited for him, the man who had imprisoned her. Maybe this time she’d get answers. Maybe this time she’d know why.

But it wasn’t him.

It was Alex.

She blinked.

A part of her wanted to smile, to cry, to reach for him, but she didn’t move. Not anymore. Maybe if he’d come earlier. Maybe if he’d cared before. But now, all she could see was the man who left her. The man who had married her for convenience. The billionaire who no longer wanted his unwanted wife.

Jordan broke open the cage. Still, she didn’t move. Every sound felt like a distant song she no longer cared to hear. She was done fighting.

The ride back was somber. Carter had been shot, the bullet piercing his arm, but he was stable. No one spoke. There was nothing to say. Isabella sat between them, leaning against the door, eyes shut, lost in a world they couldn’t reach.

When they arrived at the Kingston estate, everyone rushed out. Grandfather stood at the top of the stairs. His eyes met Isabella’s, and for the first time in years, tears ran freely down his face. He had never cried, not even when his wife died. But Bella, his little girl,broke him.

mother sobbed silently. Aunt Lane looked away, unable to face her. Celeste stood motionless, her heart hammering, guilt written across her face.

Isabella didn’t look at anyone. She walked slowly, her legs weak, her body trembling. She refused to let anyone touch her. She didn’t respond to greetings or questions. She was a ghost.

The family doctor examined her while she lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling like it was the only stable thing in her world. He asked questions. She didn’t respond. Eventually, he asked everyone to leave. Alex protested, but Grandfather placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "It’s for her good."

The doctor tried gently. He spoke softly. Still, Isabella didn’t blink or speak. She just stared.

Later, the doctor returned to the family, face grave. "She hasn’t spoken. She’s severely underweight and in psychological distress. I recommend trauma therapy and intense care."

Three days passed. Isabella didn’t leave her room. She cried in her sleep, screamed from nightmares no one could understand. The house felt heavy with grief.

Celeste couldn’t take it anymore.

She walked into the room quietly, closing the door behind her. She approached Isabella’s bed and sat on the edge. Isabella didn’t look at her.

"I’m sorry," Celeste whispered. "For walking with the enemy. For the pain I caused. I know I can’t undo it, but I hope, just hope,you can forgive me."

She waited. But Isabella didn’t even glance at her. Celeste left, sobbing.

The next evening, Jordan stood before the Kingston family as they ate dinner. "It’s been an honor," he said, voice low. "But I failed Isabella. I wasn’t there when she needed me. I’ll leave tomorrow."

Before anyone could respond, a voice echoed down the stairs.

"You’re not leaving."

Everyone turned.

Isabella.

She stood at the staircase, thin and pale, wearing a loose white robe. Her voice was shaky but strong. "He’s the only one who was there when no one else was. He filled a void I didn’t know I had."

Gasps echoed. Her voice. Her presence. After days of silence, she’d spoken.

Then she turned and ran upstairs, as if the weight of those words had startled her. As if she’d just confessed something she didn’t understand herself.

Alex stood frozen, heart torn. She had spoken. But not to him. Not for him.

Later that night, he agreed to see a therapist.

Maybe he needed it more than he realized. For Bella’s sake. For his own.

As he drove home from his first session, a notification lit up his phone. A video.

He pulled over, His blood ran cold.

In the video, Isabella’s mother was tied to a chair, unconscious in a dark room. Behind her, a masked figure stared at the camera.

Another message followed.

"You got one back. Let’s see if you can save the next."

Alex gripped the steering wheel.

He had to end this. Now.