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When the kidnappers shoved a gun into Elena's mouth and demanded ten million dollars from her husband, Elena had one thing to say.

She told them, "Don't call him. He's busy. He won't care."

They didn't listen.

In the abandoned dockyard, the kidnapper called Julian's private number anyway and put him on speaker.

The call connected. A symphony played in the background, along with a woman's flirtatious giggle.

"Julian, my zipper's stuck. Can you zip me up? Please?"

It was Chloe.

She was the younger sister of Julian's late mentor. He'd sworn to take care of her for the rest of her life.

The kidnapper barked into the phone, "Mr. Vaughn, we have your wife. Get ten million dollars ready, or the next time you see her, she'll be a corpse."

The line went quiet for two seconds. Then Chloe's soft voice came through. "Is Elena pranking us again? Julian, just the other day she threatened to hire people to stage something you'd regret if you took me to the gala tonight."

Julian's voice followed, cold as ice.

"Elena, last month you faked appendicitis to make me cut a meeting short and rush to the hospital.

"Last week, you knocked over a champagne tower on purpose just to see which of you I'd protect first in front of the press.

"And now you've taken it even further? You hired actors to stage a kidnapping?"

Elena was on her knees with broken ribs on her left side. Every breath was agony.

"Julian, this isn't a show. They have guns..."

"Shut up," Julian cut her off. "You want ten million? Fine. I'll give it to you."

It didn't take long.

A transfer notification popped up on the kidnapper's phone.

Amount received: one dollar.

"Consider this dollar your acting fee," Julian said coldly. "Chloe's having an asthma attack. I don't have time for your little show."

The call ended. Then silence.

The kidnapper stared at the one-dollar transfer on his screen in disbelief.

He'd been in the business for over ten years and had never been insulted like this.

He slapped Elena hard across the face.

"You stupid bitch! You're married to a billionaire, and that's all you're worth to him? One fucking dollar?"

He grabbed her by the hair, shoved her face down into the filthy water, and pressed the muzzle of the gun to the back of her head.

"He thinks he can brush me off with one lousy dollar? I'll blow your brains out right now!"

A chill ran through Elena.

But the moment she saw that one dollar, her tears dried up for good.

Seven years of marriage. Seven years of fighting side by side.

She'd helped him build everything from the ground up.

Now her life was hanging by a thread, and he'd sent her one dollar.

She looked up at the kidnapper, eerily calm.

"Kill me, and you won't see a cent. You'll have the cops after you, too." Elena coughed up blood. "Give me a phone and three days. I'll get you the money.

"Ten million in three days. You get your money, I walk free. One cent short, you pull the trigger."

The kidnapper stared at the determination in her eyes for a long time. Then he put the gun away.

"One cent short, and I'll chop you into pieces."

For three days and three nights, Elena lived in hell.

Feverish and nursing two broken ribs, she made 78 calls from a beat-up old phone.

She begged her old investment banking colleagues and friends for loans. They made excuses. They mocked her.

"Elena, Julian already told everyone you're just throwing a tantrum. Who'd dare lend you money?"

She stopped begging.

Instead, she began signing one agreement after another.

She put up the three-million-dollar apartment she'd owned before the marriage as collateral, taking out a loan for far less than it was worth.

She liquidated her stocks, bonds, and funds for half their value.

She even sold the antique brooch her late mother had left her. Over a video call, a pawnshop bought it for three hundred thousand dollars.

By the 71st hour, she'd finally scraped together the ten million.

Once the kidnapper confirmed the money had arrived, he looked at her like she was insane.

"Get lost, Mrs. Vaughn. You've got more guts than that husband of yours."