Grant me two or three years of youth

Louis was swamped with business, too busy to attend his father’s funeral. I handled all the arrangements alone. While driving to collect funeral supplies, Louis’s father’s enemies abducted me. Coarse hemp rope bound my hands. Black duct tape sealed my mouth. The kidnappers threw me into the backseat. His expression was vicious as he dialled my husband—Louis—on my phone. Rain fell outside; the sky hung leaden. Bound and nearly suffocating, I prayed Louis would answer swiftly. Whatever happened, I refused to die like this. I needed him to rescue me. But the calls he made— The first, he hung up without hesitation. The second, barely two seconds ringing, hung up again. The third time, I silently counted—seventeen seconds—before it was hung up again. "Bloody hell! Answer the bloody phone!" The kidnapper whipped his head round and glared at me viciously. With nowhere to vent his rage, he lashed out and slapped me across the face. My head slammed against the car door. The throbbing pain made tears stream straight down my face. The kidnapper wouldn't give up. Seemed hell-bent on using me as collateral to extort Louis for thirty million in ransom. By the twenty-third call, I'd resigned myself to my fate, waiting for the executioner's blade. Louis finally picked up. Before the kidnapper could speak, Louis's impatient voice cut in: "Monica, are you looking for trouble?" I closed my eyes in despair. Ha, even now he still didn't realise—I truly was near death. The kidnapper froze, fearing the line might be cut. He immediately scrambled to issue his threat: "Wait! Your wife is in my custody." "Your father bankrupted our company in his lifetime. Now—if you want Monica back unharmed—" "Give me thirty million." The kidnapper stared at me with solemn conviction, casually picking up a knife. He continued with relish: "The deadline is tomorrow. One minute late, and I’ll s***h Monica once." Louis hesitated barely at all. He sighed with profound disgust, replying nonchalantly: "Do as you please. Until I see Monica’s body, I’ll assume she’s still alive." The kidnapper’s eyes widened instantly. Gritting his teeth, he plunged the blade deep into my thigh. Crimson blood spurted forth. Pain made my veins bulge, and my sobs became wails of agony. “Another cut?” The kidnapper’s words were directed at Louis. Louis merely chuckled lightly, “Fine. When you’ve finished playing, remember to deliver the body to me.” "I'd like to see when Monica will ever... be worth thirty million again?" With that, the call was abruptly cut off. I laughed bitterly, the agony of my wounds unable to mask the desolation in my heart. Seven years of marriage, doing so much for him. And yet, to this day, he hasn't reserved a single corner in his heart for me. The kidnapper, enraged and humiliated, lunged forward, tearing at my clothes and slashing at my body with his knife. He revelled in my agony. I struggled fiercely, kicking out with my feet. Perhaps even the heavens couldn't bear to see me die like this. The kidnappers' car crashed on the rain-slicked road. I stumbled out, bloodied and limping, running for my life. Soaked to the skin, clinging to my last breath, I reached home. The door stood ajar, and my feet froze against the wall. Then I saw: Louis, who’d claimed to be busy with work on the phone, his strong arms now wrapped around his stepmother’s slender waist. His dazed eyes brimming with lust, he cupped her chin. He kissed her red lips lightly. He said: “Sansa, you are the one I truly love.” "I shall inherit all my father's possessions, including you."