The Enticing CEO’s Chosen Bride

Chapter 1887

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The relentless prattle chasing after her quickened Yasmine’s steps even more.

“Mmm…hmm…”

Serana’s voice suddenly sounded strangled. Yasmine stopped dead in her

tracks, spun around, and saw Serana in a man’s grip, her mouth covered,

struggling fiercely. The eyes that met hers were filled with terror.

Yasmine’s brow furrowed deeply as she locked eyes with the assailant. He wore

a black baseball cap and a face mask, leaving only a pair of menacing eyes

visible, staring her down.

“Mind your own beeswax, or I’ll snatch you up too,” the man hissed.

Enter title…

“Mmm…help…”d2

All Serana could do was to flail, tears streaming from her eyes in fear. The terror

and helplessness in her eyes were palpable.

Yasmine understood all too well the fear and despair Serana was feeling.

Serana was begging for help, and she knew Jasmine despised her.

Serana’s plea was clear, and she was fully aware that Yasmine might not even

bother to respond, perhaps even taking pleasure in her predicament, finally rid

of her.

The kidnapper seemed jittery, scanning towards the orphanage entrance,

fumbling to drag Serana away. But in the struggle, Serana managed to pull

down the man’s mask. His face was briefly exposed before he quickly lowered

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his head in panic.

Yasmine’s gaze flickered. They were still a distance from the entrance, and they

were currently right behind Bryson’s parked car. From the orphanage entrance,

it was a complete blind spot.

Even if she called for help, she knew she’d be silenced by the man before

making a sound. Other than Bryson’s car, there were no other vehicles around.

Her expression darkened, and she clenched her fists in her pockets, looking

back at Serana’s face. Most of it was covered by the man’s large hand, leaving

only her pleading eyes visible.

After a moment, Yasmine began to laugh, looking straight into her eyes. “Serves

you right!”

Serana’s eyes widened in shock, her struggles ceasing as she stared at

Yasmine’s seemingly joyful expression, dumbfounded.

“Everyone knows I can’t stand you. How stupid are you to think I’d help you. I

loathe you so much, and here you are, expecting my rescue.”

She then turned to the man, “You better scoot. They’ll do roll call in class, and

soon they will notice she’s missing. I’ll head back and cover for her, which will

give you a bit more time. Not sure how long I can stall since the teachers will

likely check on her, but I can buy you ten, maybe fifteen minutes.”

The man, anxious at her words, seemed to hurry his actions.

Yasmine continued, “In return for my stalling, I hope you make her suffer. She’s

a nasty piece of work. I’ve been ostracized because of her and I hate her guts. I

want her to feel what it’s like to be abandoned, all alone. Especially at night, the

feeling must be intense.”

“You’re a cruel kid, but I’ll do as you ask.”

Yasmine smiled, “Thanks, sir. You’re the best.” Then she turned and ran towards

the orphanage.

Serana watched her leave in terror, still struggling, her muffled cries falling on

deaf ears.

Yasmine burst into the orphanage, barely crossing the threshold before her legs

gave out, and she collapsed, knees and elbows hitting the ground hard, gasping

from the pain. But she got up, dusted herself off, her face ghostly pale, her legs

still trembling.

When she got to the director’s office, Bryson emerged, and seeing Yasmine’s

pallor, he asked urgently, “What’s wrong?”

Yasmine clutched his shirt tightly, her knuckles white.

“Call the cops.”

Bryson paused, puzzled, “What?”

Shaking, Yasmine repeated, “Call the cops.”

The director snapped to attention and asked, “What happened?”

“Serana was taken by a man at the school gates.”

The director’s eyes bulged. “What…what?!”

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“What are you waiting for?! Want her to die?!” Yasmine’s voice spiked with fury,

infuriated by the director’s sluggish reaction.

Shaken by her intensity, the director quickly pulled out his phone and dialed for

help.

Yasmine let go of Bryson and moved to the director’s desk, grabbing paper and

pencil, she began sketching.

—

By the time the police arrived, Yasmine had regained her composure, sitting in

the director’s chair, still drawing.

“I don’t know the man. I have never seen him before,” she said.

The director was overwhelmed, “What’s he thinking, snatching her right at the

orphanage? What ransom could we possibly pay.”

Yasmine’s lips pursed, not looking up, “He was after Serana specifically. Not for

ransom, but to kill her.”

At that, the director wobbled, and Bryson, as if recalling something, glanced at

the director, “Didn’t you say someone was inquiring about that child a few days

ago?”

The director nodded, visibly flustered, “I didn’t expect something like this…”

Ignoring their exchange, Yasmine continued, “The guy had no car. Too secluded

here for a walk or a getaway to another district. Dead end to the north, highway

south, orphanage west, mountains opposite. No place to go but the mountains.”

Her delivery was calm and methodical, her young face devoid of panic. The

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