The Violinist's Psycho Husband

Chapter Two

A WEEK after their return to the Philippines, the demanding reality of their empire pulled Mr. Chua back into a grueling schedule of board meetings and port inspections. Left to her own devices and wanting to buy her father a bespoke watch to celebrate her successful European tour, Vanessa decided to spend the afternoon shopping at the exclusive boutiques in Greenbelt.

She thought she was safe. But the moment she stepped into the VIP basement parking, the world went black. Her two bodyguards were taken down in stifling silence, and a heavy, chemical-soaked cloth was clamped over her mouth.

When Vanessa finally regained consciousness, the pristine luxury of her life was gone. She woke up shivering in a damp, pitch-black cellar, the stench of rust and mold invading her lungs. Her wrists were bound tightly to a heavy metal chair, the rough ropes scraping her delicate skin raw. Her head throbbed violently, and a metallic taste of blood lingered on her split lip—a cruel reminder of the backhand slap she received when she first tried to fight back in the van.

"Gising na pala ang prinsesa," a rough, sleazy voice echoed from the shadows.

A single, harsh bulb flickered on, revealing a heavily scarred, burly man—the head of the syndicate that took her. He stepped into the light, holding a rusty combat knife, his eyes roaming over Vanessa's disheveled designer dress with sickening hunger.

Vanessa forced herself to sit up straight, hiding the terrifying, erratic palpitations of her failing heart. "Who are you? Kung pera ang kailangan niyo, my father will pay you double. Just name your price and let me go."

The man laughed, a harsh, grating sound. He walked closer, the tip of his knife trailing dangerously close to her collarbone. "Hindi namin kailangan ang pera ng tatay mo, Miss. Ang utos sa amin ay tapusin ka. Sumusunod lang kami sa kagustuhan ng kliyente namin."

The kidnapper's eyes darkened with a different kind of malice.

"Pero sayang naman," he smirked, stepping so close she could smell the stale alcohol on his breath. He grabbed a handful of her hair, yanking her head back. Vanessa gasped in pain. "Masyado kang maganda para lang patayin agad. Balita ko, virg*n pa raw ang nag-iisang heredera ng mga Chua. Napakaswerte ko naman, makakatikim ako ng inosenteng anak ng bilyonaryo bago ko siya tapusin ng isang bala."

"Don't touch me! Huwag mo akong hahawakan!" Vanessa screamed, thrashing against her restraints. Panic clawed at her throat.

"Huwag kang malikot!" he snarled, bringing his hand down to violently rip the neckline of her silk dress.

Tears streamed down Vanessa's face. She kicked and pulled, her wrists bleeding against the ropes. Her heart was beating so fast it felt like it was tearing apart inside her chest. No. Please, God, no. She had promised her father she would find a man who would love and cherish her. She had saved herself, her purity, and her dignity for the husband she was meant to marry. If this monster took that away from her, it would destroy her completely.

"Tulungan niyo ako! Please!" she sobbed, closing her eyes tightly as the man's filthy hands grabbed her shoulders.

Suddenly, a deafening BANG echoed through the underground room.

The heavy metal door of the cellar didn't just open—it was violently kicked off its hinges.

The kidnapper froze, spinning around with his gun raised. But before he could even aim, two suppressed gunshots—pfft, pfft—cut through the air with lethal precision. The burly man collapsed backward, dead before his body hit the concrete floor.

Vanessa trembled violently, her eyes snapping open. Through the haze of gunsmoke and dim lighting, a figure stepped into the cellar.

He was breathtakingly gorgeous, but completely terrifying. Standing well over six feet, he was clad in a flawlessly tailored midnight-blue Italian suit that looked entirely out of place in the filthy dungeon. His sharp, aristocratic jawline and piercing, ice-cold eyes exuded an aura of absolute dominance and danger.

Vanessa's breath caught. She recognized him instantly. Any high-society heiress worth their salt knew that face from international Forbes covers and exclusive underground galas.

Clejan Voss.

He was the notorious Mafia King of the New York underworld, a ghost in the criminal syndicate, and an absolute beast in the legitimate business world. He was a ruthless monster masked as a billionaire CEO.

Clejan casually stepped over the dead body of her attacker, his expensive leather shoes clicking softly against the concrete. He held a custom matte-black pistol in his right hand, looking completely unbothered by the blood on the floor.

Relief washed over Vanessa in a massive, overwhelming wave. A fellow billionaire. A connection of her father's, perhaps. He saved me.

"Mr. Voss..." Vanessa breathed out, tears of immense relief sliding down her bruised cheeks. "Oh my god! Thank you. Thank you for finding and saving me. Did my father send you?"

Clejan stopped a few feet away from her. His cold eyes dragged slowly over her tied-up, trembling form, lingering on her torn dress and bleeding wrists. His expression remained utterly blank, devoid of any empathy.

"Saved you?" Clejan's voice was a deep, velvety baritone that sent a sudden, chilling shiver down her spine. He tilted his head slightly, an amused, dark smirk playing on his lips. "Don't flatter yourself, principessa."

Vanessa's smile faltered. "W-What do you mean?"

Clejan calmly holstered his gun and crouched down in front of her, his striking face mere inches from hers. The scent of expensive bergamot and gunpowder surrounded her.

"I didn't come all the way to this godforsaken country to play hero," Clejan said, his tone chillingly smooth. He reached out, a gloved finger tracing the tear on her dress before gently, almost mockingly, wiping a tear from her cheek. "I came to take you."

Vanessa froze, the blood draining completely from her face. "Ano? No... you killed them—"

"I killed them because they were touching what is now mine," Clejan interrupted softly, his gaze hardening into pure, absolute ruthlessness. "Your father has been very stubborn about his commercial ports in New York, Miss Chua. He refused to sell them to my syndicate. So, I'm taking his most prized possession instead."

He leaned in closer, his breath brushing against her ear.

"Congratulations, Miss Chua. You are now my hostage. And your father is going to give up his entire New York empire just to get you back."

VANESSA'S MIND spun into absolute overdrive. The cold reality of Clejan's words hit her like a freight train. If this ruthless mafia king used her as a pawn, her father would surrender everything—the ports, the legacy, the empire he built to secure her future. And knowing her father, he would willingly wage a suicidal war against the New York underworld just to get her back. She couldn't let that happen. She would rather die than be the reason her father loses his life.

Desperation clawed at her throat. She looked into Clejan's dead, icy eyes and made the most reckless gamble of her entire existence.

"Wait," Vanessa breathed out, her voice trembling but her gaze locked fiercely onto his. "Don't use me against him. Huwag mo kaming idamay sa gulo ng sindikato niyo. Just... marry me instead."

Clejan froze. The dangerous silence in the cellar stretched for a full, agonizing second before a dark, deeply amused chuckle vibrated from his chest. He stood up to his full height, looking down at her as if she had just lost her mind.

"Marry you?" Clejan repeated, a mocking grin spreading across his aristocratic face. "Are you out of your mind, principessa? Why the hell would I marry my hostage?"

"Because I... I fell in love with you," Vanessa lied, her heart pounding so hard she feared it would give out. "I fell in love with you at first sight. The moment you walked through that door and saved me. Gusto kitang pakasalan, Clejan. We don't need a war between our families."

Clejan laughed aloud this time—a harsh, completely humorless sound. He stepped in fast, gripping her chin between his leather-clad fingers, forcing her to look up at him. "You are a terrible liar, Miss Chua. I can literally hear your heart beating out of your chest in terror. Pero sige, I'll play your little game." He leaned in, his lips hovering dangerously close to hers. "If you are so madly in love with a monster like me... kiss me. Prove it."

Vanessa's breath hitched. She stared at his sharp, devastatingly handsome features, completely paralyzed.

Before she could even process his challenge, aggressive shouts echoed from the hallway outside the cellar.

"Nandito ang bumaril! Pat*y na si Boss! Kunin niyo ang babae!"

Clejan's mocking smile vanished instantly, replaced by the cold, calculating mask of a killer. With a swift flick of his wrist, he produced a hidden blade and sliced through the thick ropes binding Vanessa's bleeding wrists.

"Time to go, sweetheart," Clejan ordered.

Before Vanessa could even stand, Clejan grabbed her waist and effortlessly hauled her over his broad shoulder like she weighed absolutely nothing.

"Ah! What are you doing? Put me down!" Vanessa gasped, gripping the back of his suit as he sprinted out of the cellar.

"Shut up and hold on unless you want to get shot," he barked, moving through the dark, abandoned corridors with terrifying speed.

They burst through a rusted exit door, the heavy night air and pouring rain hitting Vanessa's face. But their escape was cut short. As Clejan set her down roughly on the wet pavement near the desolate street, more than a dozen armed men spilled out from the alleyways, cornering them.

"Huwag kayong gagalaw!" the new attackers shouted, raising their rifles.

Clejan didn't even flinch. He grabbed Vanessa's arm, shoving her firmly behind his broad back. "Stay exactly behind me. Huwag kang aalis sa likod ko."

What happened next was a blur of deafening violence. Clejan drew his matte-black pistol, moving with lethal, terrifying grace. Bang. Bang. Bang. He didn't waste a single bullet. He fired with perfect aim while keeping Vanessa safely behind him. Every time she whimpered and tried to cover her ears, Clejan would step back just enough to keep her safely tucked behind his towering frame, shielding her from the crossfire and the gruesome blood splatter.

Within ninety seconds, the street was dead silent. All fifteen men lay motionless on the wet concrete.

Clejan casually ejected the empty magazine from his gun, letting it clatter to the ground, and slammed a fresh one in. He turned around to face Vanessa, completely unscathed, though his pristine suit was now specked with blood and rain.

"Now," Clejan smirked, pocketing his gun and taking slow, deliberate steps toward her. The adrenaline made his eyes look darker, more dangerous. "Where were we? Ah, right. Your pathetic fake proposal. Masyado kang halata, Miss Chua. Wala kang mapapala sa pagsisinungaling sa akin. Did you honestly think a man like me would fall for—"

Vanessa didn't let him finish.

Fueled by a chaotic mix of fear, adrenaline, and an overwhelming gratitude that this beautiful monster just single-handedly slaughtered an army to keep her safe, she stepped forward. She stood on her tiptoes, her small, trembling hands reaching up to firmly frame his blood-spattered cheeks.

Clejan stopped mid-sentence.

Vanessa closed her eyes and pressed her lips firmly against his.

It wasn't a perfect kiss—it was desperate, trembling, and tasted like rain and copper—but it was resolute. Clejan's entire body went rigidly still. For the first time in his violent life, the Mafia King of New York was completely paralyzed. His hands hovered awkwardly in the air, completely unsure of what to do with the delicate, beautiful heiress fiercely kissing him in the middle of a bloodbath.

Vanessa pulled away, gasping softly for air. She looked straight into his shocked, widened eyes.

"That was my first kiss," Vanessa declared, her voice breathless but unwavering. "It was the most valuable thing I had, reserved only for my future husband. Hindi ako nagsisinungaling, Mr. Voss. I want to marry you."

Clejan stared down at her, utterly speechless. The beast had been entirely disarmed.

Suddenly, a wet, guttural groan sounded from behind Vanessa.

One of the kidnappers, bleeding heavily from the chest, had managed to crawl forward. He lunged upward, a jagged hunting knife aimed directly at Vanessa's exposed back.

Clejan's lethal instincts snapped back in a millisecond. His eyes flared with sudden, protective fury. He yanked Vanessa forcefully by the waist, pulling her body against his solid chest, and spun them around. Without even looking, Clejan raised his gun over Vanessa's shoulder and pulled the trigger.

BANG!

The attacker dropped dead instantly, the knife clattering harmlessly against the pavement.

Vanessa buried her face in Clejan's chest, trembling uncontrollably as his strong arm wrapped around her, holding her impossibly tight against him. He was breathing heavily, his chin resting protectively on top of her head.

Before either of them could speak, the loud screeching of tires tore through the street. Five heavily armored, matte-black SUVs swarmed the alley, their headlights blinding in the dark rain. The doors flew open, and dozens of imposing men in black suits and tactical gear poured out, aiming assault rifles at the shadows.

"We locked down the area, Boss!" his second-in-command shouted, rushing toward them.

Clejan's men had finally arrived. But Clejan didn't look at them. He didn't issue a single order. He just stood there in the freezing rain, his gun lowered. He stared at the woman clutching his jacket. The pawn he came to use had just become his destiny.