I Married the Kidnapped Girl

I was branded a murderer, shunned by friends and family, subjected to relentless scorn, and ultimately died in prison under mysterious circumstances, with no one to claim my remains. No, I absolutely cannot repeat the same mistake. I need an ironclad alibi, evidence so undeniable that everyone can witness it with their own eyes. A mad thought sprang up in my mind like wild grass, instantly overtaking my every thought. I grabbed my coat and rushed out the door; the musty smell in the hallway made me cough. I hailed a taxi and gave it the address of the city's most luxurious commercial center—the headquarters of the Carter Group. Mia Carter, the only daughter of the richest man, Hector Carter, was most likely in the rooftop garden at that very moment. The elevator ascended rapidly, the ticking of the floor numbers striking my nerves. Pushing open the garden's glass door, the evening breeze carried the scent of gardenias, washing over me; my eyes immediately locked onto her. She wore a champagne-colored evening gown, seated on a wicker chair watching a tablet. The golden glow of the sunset bathed her shoulders, outlining a soft silhouette, like a meticulously painted oil portrait. The two bodyguards beside her immediately tensed, their hands resting on the holsters at their waists, eyes sharp as knives. I rushed over, and just as she looked up, I pressed a toy dagger against her waist. The plastic edge dug into my palm; my voice trembled yet held an unyielding resolve: "Don't make a sound. Come with me." She froze for a moment, her long eyelashes flickering, but she didn't scream—she looked at me calmly: "Who are you? What do you want?" "Come with me into the nearby lounge, or else," I tightened my grip, the toy dagger's edges pressing more sharply against her clothes, "today's headline won't be about the serial murder case anymore." She seemed taken aback by my madness, slowly rising to her feet, her skirt sweeping over the rattan chair with a faint rustling. I took her hostage and backed into the lounge, locking the door behind me; the metallic click of the lock gave me some reassurance. I took out my mobile phone and started the live broadcast, pointing the camera at us. I took a deep breath, my voice hoarse with nervousness: "Everyone online, my name is Mason Lee." From now on, Mia Carter is my fiancee — our families arranged a childhood betrothal long ago! The live streaming room exploded instantly; bullet comments flooded in like a tide, and the number of viewers soared visibly before our eyes. Mia Carter suddenly turned her head and glared at me, her beautiful almond-shaped eyes full of shock: "Are you crazy?" "Crazy? Maybe." I stared intently at the scrolling comments on the screen. "But today, I will stay with Ms. Carter until everything is finally clear."