Semua Bab Kidnapped By Mistake: Bab 11 - Bab 20

Isabella’s POV It’s been almost a month. Thirty quiet days inside this cold, echoing mansion. Lance eventually stopped locking me in that room. I was allowed to walk around—library, kitchen, even the garden. Basta hindi lalampas ng gate. No phones. No outside contact. Just me, my thoughts, and a dangerously attractive man. Bored. Restless. Empty. "Grabe kahit tv bawal. Pag nakaalis ako dito, paano na kaya ako? For sure terminated na ako sa trabaho.", malungkot kong iniisip habang nakaupo sa couch sa sala. "Dito na lang kaya ako magtrabaho? Anong trabaho naman kaya? Di naman ako maalam sa gawaing bahay. Data entry kaya? Baka kailangan ni demon. Or any office and admin tasks. Hayyyy. Makapagikot ikot na nga lang dito sa bahay niya". Then I saw it. His office. Solid wood door. Branded. Intimidating. I hesitated. For a second. Maybe two. Bawal daw ako dito. I opened the door anyway. What else could I lose? Tahimik. Malamig. Parang ibang mundo. I stepped inside, eyes darting

Isabella’s POV One month later I never told the police. I probably should have. That’s what normal people do after they’ve been mistakenly kidnapped and emotionally toyed with by a billionaire. But I didn’t. Because deep down, I knew it wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t bring back my job, my home, or the version of me that existed before Lance Alonzo turned my world upside down. So I did the only thing I knew how to do: I started over. I moved into a tiny bedspace in Cubao. As in, literal na isang hakbang mula kama ay pinto na ng CR. The walls were thin, the fan was loud, and the neighbor’s karaoke echoed through my dreams every other night. Mag-iipon lang ako at lilipat din. But at least it was mine. I got cheap instant coffee again. Rebuilt my résumé like I hadn’t disappeared for a month. I applied to everything: admin work, data entry, even virtual assistant roles. Laman na ako ng computer shop kakabrowse ng job openings. I ate lugaw with egg most days, and

**Isabella’s POV** I tapped my card at the MRT gate, clutching my bag like it was designer. Sweldo day. For most people, it meant shopping sprees and Shopee checkouts. For me? **Chickenjoy and a medium Coke.** Luxuries, honestly. Ikaw ba naman kumain ng lugaw at siomai ng isang buwan, mananabik ka talaga sa jollibee. I made my way to the food court, still in my office slacks, still adjusting to the weird balance of exhaustion and independence. Isang tray. Chickenjoy with extra gravy. Rice. Medium Coke. Yes, please. I sat by the window, enjoying my first crispy bite. I even closed my eyes for dramatic effect. *“Ugh. This is better than therapy.”* For a while, I let myself forget—yung nangyari sa akin, yung bigat ng mundo. The fact na wala akong family na mapagkukwentuhan. Only child ako. My parents died in an accident when I was 19. Nahulog sa bangin ang bus na sinasakyan nila galing Baguio, where they celebrated their anniversary. Saktong graduating ako sa college. It was hard

**Isabella’s POV** The next day, I kept my head down. I didn’t tell anyone what happened in that office. I filed the signed onboarding kit. I answered emails. I triple-checked my spelling. I ate my soggy chicken sandwich in silence. But no matter how much I buried myself in checklists and spreadsheets, I couldn’t forget how he said my name. How his voice dropped low—measured, commanding—like I was still a variable in his carefully calculated empire. Act like it, he had said. And ***I did.*** I clocked in on time. I avoided the executive floor like it was cursed. I stopped flinching at the elevator ding. But one thing still gnawed at me. ***Why did he care if I ate spoiled food?*** --- A few days later, as I was sorting applicant files, Therese walked by my desk. “Isabella, do you have a minute?” she asked casually. “Yes po.” She gestured toward the hallway. “Let’s go upstairs. Mr. Alonzo wants to review some of the new process flows with HR. Sama ka na, since ikaw ang gu

**Isabella’s POV** I should’ve gone home early. I should’ve listened to my body. But no. I showed up again the next day, throat dry, eyes heavy, every muscle in my back screaming *rest*, *stop*, *please*. But I didn’t. Because I needed this job? Or maybe because I refused to let him think I was weak. So I pushed. And I fell. Not dramatically—just slowly. Like a flickering light that finally gave up. --- It was around 8:40 p.m. I stayed late to organize new-hire files. The floor was nearly empty. My head was pounding, and I was using the edge of my desk just to keep myself upright. I stood to grab a folder—next thing I knew, I was on the floor. I didn’t even realize I’d collapsed until I felt the rough carpet under my cheek. “Shit,” I whispered. My vision swam. I didn’t know how much time passed. Just the quiet hum of the lights above. And then— Footsteps. Again. Then his voice. Firm. Sharp. Not panicked—just **immediately in control**. “Isabella.” I d