The bride he didn't choose

Chapter 7

The moment Windsor saw the video, something inside him shifted—completely.

Not panic.

Not confusion.

Precision.

Cold, calculated precision.

His fingers tightened around his phone as he turned sharply, already dialing.

“Get me the government line. Now.”

Within seconds, the call connected.

“This is Windsor Collins,” he said, his voice low but carrying an authority that demanded obedience. “I want every available unit deployed. My wife has been kidnapped in Switzerland.”

A pause.

Then—

“Yes, sir. We’re mobilizing immediately.”

Windsor didn’t wait for anything else. He ended the call and stepped forward, his eyes scanning every corner of the room like a predator tracking prey.

“They made a mistake,” he muttered.

“A very big mistake.”

Within minutes, the once peaceful resort was swarming with armed personnel.

Boots hit the ground in synchronized urgency. Radios crackled. Orders were issued in rapid succession.

The hotel was no longer a honeymoon destination.

It was a crime scene.

A battlefield.

Windsor stood at the center of it all, his presence commanding, his expression unreadable.

“Trace every exit,” he ordered. “Check surveillance. I want every vehicle that left this compound identified.”

“Yes, sir!”

Screens were pulled up. Footage rewound.

And then—

“There!” one of the officers called out. “A van. Left ten minutes ago. No registration match.”

Windsor’s eyes locked onto the screen.

“Track it.”

The chase didn’t take long.

Snow-covered roads stretched endlessly, but there were only so many ways out.

Within minutes, the signal was found.

Abandoned road.

Isolated.

Perfect for something like this.

Windsor didn’t wait for instructions.

“Move.”

The soldiers surrounded the van in seconds.

Weapons raised.

Engines still warm.

The kidnappers hadn’t gone far.

“Get out!” one of the soldiers shouted.

Two men stumbled out, hands raised, fear written all over their faces.

“You kidnapped a billionaire’s wife,” a soldier barked. “Where is she?”

“We—we didn’t mean to—” one of them stammered.

Before he could finish—

Windsor stepped forward.

Slow.

Silent.

Deadly.

His sleeve rolled up.

“You didn’t mean to?” he repeated quietly.

And then—

He struck.

A punch landed hard against the man’s jaw, sending him crashing to the ground. The other tried to step back—

Too late.

Windsor grabbed him, slamming him against the side of the van.

“Where is my wife?” he demanded, his voice no longer calm.

It was lethal.

“She’s in the van!” the man cried out, trembling. “Please—we were sent—we didn’t—”

Windsor didn’t wait.

He turned.

And flung the van doors open.

For a split second—

Everything stopped.

Elora lay there.

Unconscious.

Still.

Too still.

“...Elora?”

Something cracked in his voice.

He climbed into the van, lifting her carefully into his arms as if she might break.

“Baby… you’ll be fine,” he whispered, his voice softer now—but shaking slightly.

Her eyelids fluttered.

Slowly.

Weakly.

“Oh…” she breathed. “You’re here…”

Relief flooded his chest so suddenly it almost hurt.

“I’m here,” he said quickly. “I’ve got you.”

Her fingers curled slightly against his shirt.

“Did they hurt you?” he asked, his voice tight.

She shook her head faintly.

“As long as you’re here… I’m fine…”

Windsor exhaled slowly, pressing her closer to him.

“Soldiers,” he said without looking back, his voice cold again. “Deal with them.”

“Yes, sir.”

The men were dragged away, their pleas fading into the distance.

But Windsor didn’t care anymore.

All that mattered—

Was her.

As he carried Elora back toward the car, the snow fell gently around them, almost like the world was trying to hide what had just happened.

Elora rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

Strong.

Protective.

Real.

For the first time since all of this began—

She felt safe.

He came for me…

Her thoughts were quiet now, softer.

He didn’t hesitate… he didn’t doubt… he just came.

Her fingers tightened slightly against him.

I think… this is love.

The realization came slowly.

But it was undeniable.

I think I’m starting to love him too…

But somewhere—

Far from the snow.

Far from the quiet moment they were sharing—

A screen flickered.

The entire rescue.

Captured.

Watched.

Recorded.

Matilda leaned back in her chair, her expression unreadable as the footage ended.

“So…” she said softly.

“He saved her.”

A slow smile spread across her face.

“Interesting.”

She picked up her phone, dialing another number.

“I underestimated him,” she admitted calmly. “That won’t happen again.”

A pause.

Then—

“Prepare the next phase.”

Her voice dropped slightly.

Colder.

Darker.

“If fear won’t break them…”

Her smile widened.

“Then we’ll give them something worse.”

Sorry ma’am,we can't work for you anymore.

What!!

Matilda was shocked.

The line click shut.

Back in Switzerland, Windsor gently laid Elora on the bed, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

“You’re safe now,” he said quietly.

She looked up at him, her eyes softer than before.

“Thank you…”

He held her gaze.

Longer than usual.

Then leaned closer—

As if about to say something more.

But before he could—

There was a ringtone in the bedroom.

It was Windsor's father.

Hey son,You have to come back home,we don't want anything to happen to Elora.

Okay dad,we will be back tomorrow.