Claimed by one billionaire saved by another

CHAPTER SEVEN

KAEL'S POV

“Hello? Am I speaking with Mr. Kael?”

The woman’s voice came through the phone, calm and measured, the kind of tone used by someone trained to stay cool in a crisis.

“Yes,” I said, my voice like flint. “This is Kael Voss.”

“I apologize for calling out of the blue. My name is Dr. Aris. I am currently on Elvins Street, and there is a woman here who appears to be severely disoriented.”

My hand tightened around the phone until it felt like I was going to break the casing.

The noise of the city street—the sirens, the distant chatter, the wind—all faded into a dull hum.

“She does not know her name or where she is,” the doctor continued. “When we asked if she had any contact info, she handed us a necklace.”

I forced my breath to stay slow and deliberate. ”And why was I called? You should be calling the police about a lady that's disoriented.”

“The necklace has your initials and phone number in it.” She said, “That's why I decided to call. Do you know her?”

“Describe the necklace,” I commanded.

“It is silver. An oval pendant. There are initials engraved on it: K.V. written in gold cursive.”

I turned slowly, my back pressing against the hot metal of my car hood. My heart gave a single, heavy thud.

“Describe the woman,” I ordered. I didn't have time for drama.

“Blue eyes. Blonde hair,” Dr. Aris replied. “She looks like she was kidnapped for a long time. Her clothes are torn. She is frightened, but she isn't acting aggressive.”

My jaw locked. “Where exactly is she?”

“She is sitting beside a large dustbin, sir,” the doctor said softly, almost as if she were ashamed to say it.

For a moment, I said nothing. Sylvie Carter, the woman who was supposed to have everything, was sitting in a trash bin in a back alley, how ironic.

“I am sending someone ahead of me now,” I said finally, regaining my composure. “Stay with her. Do not let anyone touch her. Do you understand?”

“Of course,” she promised.

I ended the call and immediately dialed John. “Elvins Street,” I snapped the moment he picked up. “It’s possible that Sylvie is there. Go now. Verify everything—the necklace, the initials, her condition. Call me the second you’re sure.”

“I’m on it,” John replied, not wasting a second on questions.

I got into my car and drove.

The city blurred past me in a streak of gray and yellow. I pressed the accelerator harder, weaving through lanes without a second thought. My thoughts were sharp and focused. Panic was a luxury for the weak; Sylvie needed stability, and I was the only one who could provide it.

My phone rang again as I neared the location.

“I’ve confirmed it’s her, sir,” John said. His voice was low and cautious. “I’ve seen the pendant. The initials and the number match perfectly.”

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding, but John wasn't finished.

“But Kael,” he added, hesitating, “I don't know what to make of this. I don't know if she’s actually faking the amnesia or if it’s true. She’s acting like she’s never seen me before in her life. She looks... different.”

“It doesn't matter what you think,” I said, cutting him off. “Step back and keep the area clear. I'll be there soon.”

I parked the car haphazardly and stepped out.

The scene was a nightmare. It was a dirty, narrow alleyway, way too public for my liking. A small crowd had gathered at the mouth of the alley, whispering and staring like they were watching a movie. In the middle of it all, she was curled up beside a rusted metal bin, her knees tucked tightly to her chest.

Sylvie.

She didn't look like the polished woman from the magazine covers, nor did she look like the glowing bride-to-be the internet obsessed over.

This was something rawer. She looked small and broken. The white lace of her wedding dress was gray with filth and stained with dried blood.

Her eyes snapped to mine the moment I stepped into her line of sight. I saw the fear in them instantly—a wild, animal-like panic.

I stopped a few feet away. I didn't want to crowd her or make her feel trapped. I kept my posture straight and my presence solid.

“Everyone, get back,” I said. My voice wasn't loud, but it carried a weight that made people move.

The crowd retreated. They didn't have a choice.

I crouched down so I was eye level with her, making sure I wasn't towering over her like a threat. I looked into her eyes, searching for a spark of recognition, but there was only a vast, empty void.

“Sylvie,” I said.

She flinched at the sound of her name, her whole body jerking back against the metal of the bin.

“I am Kael,” I continued, watching her every move. “You have my necklace. You called me.”

Her fingers tightened around the silver chain at her throat so hard her knuckles turned white. “I do not know you,” she whispered, her voice trembling and raw.

“I know,” I replied. “That is not a problem.”

I extended my hand toward her, palm open and steady. I didn't plead, and I didn't hesitate. I gave her the only thing I could offer right then: a way out.

“Come with me,” I told her.

She stared at my hand as if it might disappear if she blinked. She looked at my palm, then back at my face, her breathing coming in short, ragged gasps.

“You are safe,” I said firmly. “Nothing is going to touch you while I am here. I promise.”

Her breathing stuttered. Slowly—so slowly it felt like an eternity—she placed her hand in mine. Her skin was ice-cold. The second our palms touched, she let out a long, heavy sigh, as if she had been holding her breath for days.

Her grip tightened instinctively, her small fingers digging into my hand. I closed my fingers around hers and pulled her out of the bin in one smooth, powerful motion. I stepped in front of her, physically blocking her from the prying eyes of the street.

She stood close to me. I could feel the heat radiating off her, and she was shaking so hard I thought she might collapse.

“That’s it,” I said quietly. “Calm down. You're safe.”

She nodded, her eyes locked on my face. It was like the rest of the world had just dimmed, leaving only the two of us in that filthy alley.

I turned my head slightly toward John. “Clear the area. Now. I want every one of those people gone.”

I took off my heavy suit jacket and draped it over her shoulders. I adjusted the lapels so she was covered properly, hiding the ruined lace and the blood. My movements were precise and controlled, but my mind was racing.

“We are leaving,” I told her. “And you’re coming with me.”

“To where?” she asked, her voice barely a breath.

“With me,” I repeated. “That’s all you need to know right now.”

She didn’t argue. She didn't have the strength to.

As I guided her toward the car, she followed my lead without a second thought. Her hand never left mine, and I didn't let go. Whatever had happen

ed to her, whoever had failed her—it ended the moment she touched my hand.

She was no longer alone. And neither was I.