Divorce With Benefits: A Second Chance At Love-Chapter 119: The Kidnapping

Jerica decided then and there that their first stop would be to see his mother. If anyone could yank Jared back to his senses, it was her. That woman had a knack for cutting through his stubbornness like no one else. Jerica just hoped she could convince him to make the visit.

Leaning against the pillar, Jerica’s eyes scanned the bustling street outside the office. The usual mundane scenes played out—people rushing, cars honking, a distant dog barking. Nothing seemed out of place, not that she expected snipers in the bushes or shadowy figures lurking. We’re not that important, she reassured herself, though the thought didn’t soothe her completely.

Still, something did catch her eye. At the edge of the staircase, a bush rustled. Her gaze locked onto it, her instincts sharpening. The movement was subtle, but there was definitely someone there.

A moment later, a head popped up. Jerica’s stomach flipped when she recognized the woman. Harold’s stalker. 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

The woman waved a hand frantically, looking around before beckoning Jerica. Her movements were jerky, almost desperate, like a child trying to get an adult’s attention without getting caught.

Jerica froze. Is she waving at me?

For a moment, she thought the woman might be signaling someone else. But the stalker’s wild gestures made it clear Jerica was the target. Jerica hesitated. The last thing she wanted was to give Jared more reasons to spiral into his paranoid delusions. If he saw her talking to someone suspicious, especially someone hiding in a bush, it might push him over the edge.

But then her eyes caught the bandage wrapped around the woman’s head. A wave of guilt washed over her. Whatever her deal was, the stalker looked hurt—and desperate. Jerica exhaled deeply, her resolve softening.

One minute. I’ll give her one minute.

Jerica glanced over her shoulder, ensuring Jared was still preoccupied with retrieving the car. Her heart was pounding, a mix of curiosity and caution fueling her steps as she descended the stairs. She moved cautiously, each step deliberate, but her determination was unshaken. Let’s see what she wants.

Standing before the woman in the bushes, Jerica crossed her arms. "Do you know me?" she asked, her tone authoritative but laced with curiosity. The woman—Catherine—seemed an enigma. Her petite, almost childlike appearance clashed with the sharp intelligence and maturity that flickered in her eyes. Jerica had met her fair share of people in life, and she’d become adept at reading them. But Catherine was throwing her off. Why would someone this clever act so... naive? Or was Jerica misreading her entirely?

Catherine’s face lit up with a smile that seemed genuine, her blue eyes sparkling with friendliness. "Jerica Evans. Yes, I know you..." she said, her voice soft and warm. Her cheeks flushed slightly, as if genuinely pleased to see her.

Jerica tilted her head, her eyes narrowing in thought. "Are you okay, Miss... Caro... Ca..." She faltered, trying to recall her name, but her focus kept drifting to the large bandage wrapped around Catherine’s head. It was hard to think about anything else.

"Catherine," the woman supplied with a grin that spread so wide it nearly reached her ears. She extended her hand in an exaggeratedly playful manner, her demeanor suddenly flipping to something overly childlike. It was jarring, and Jerica’s internal alarm bells started ringing.

Still, she couldn’t help but be intrigued. There was something about Catherine that gnawed at her curiosity. Why does she act like this? Not only did this woman know about Harold, but now she was addressing Jerica by name too. There was something deeper going on.

Catherine spoke, her voice laced with sincerity despite the exaggerated innocence she projected. "I won’t disturb Harold Braddock ever again. I thought it would be best if you passed on this message. I also want to apologize for any hurt I might have inadvertently caused him. It was never my intention. I wanted to return the favor."

Jerica studied her carefully, ignoring most of the words and instead focusing on the woman’s expression and her striking blue eyes. They seemed too familiar, too intimate, as though they held a history Jerica couldn’t quite place. She leaned in slightly, her curiosity overtaking her caution. "Have we met before?" she asked, her voice softer now, tinged with confusion.

Catherine’s face lit up, her smile radiating warmth and an odd familiarity. Her eyes shimmered as she leaned in, her voice trembling slightly with what seemed to be genuine happiness. "You remember me?" she asked softly, her tone almost reverent, as if Jerica was someone incredibly important to her. She took a step closer, her excitement palpable. "That summer back in Latheron... In Orkney, we..."

Jerica’s brows knitted together as she tried to place the memory, but it was like grasping at smoke. Latheron? Orkney? The words echoed in her mind, tugging at a distant, hazy recollection. She pressed her lips together, her thoughts shifting to that one summer years ago.

Latheron... Of course, she had been there. She was about fifteen at the time. It was a significant trip for her, not only because of the fun she had with Harold and their friends but because it was a connection to her roots. She was born in Latheron, though she had only spent the first moments of her life there. Her mother, heavily pregnant at the time, had been attending a seminar when Jerica decided to arrive a month early. That twist of fate had granted her dual citizenship, though it rarely crossed her mind—until now.

She thought back to that summer trip with Harold and some friends. They’d stayed in a cozy house belonging to one of their friend’s relatives. The memory of laughter and carefree days surfaced: the long walks through the lush fields, the sound of waves crashing against the cliffs, the late-night talks under the clear northern skies. It had been one of the most vivid summers of her life.

But Catherine? She didn’t fit anywhere in those memories.

Jerica squinted, her gaze scanning Catherine’s features, trying to connect the dots. How does she know me? Despite her efforts, Catherine’s face didn’t match anyone she remembered from that trip. The more Jerica focused, the more elusive the connection felt, like a word on the tip of her tongue that refused to come out.

She watched Catherine’s hand slip into her bag, curiosity mingling with wariness as she tried to see what the woman was reaching for.

But before she could make sense of it, a strong arm yanked her back. Jerica stumbled slightly, startled, and found herself staring up at Jared’s furious face.

"Why aren’t you being careful?" Jared roared, his voice cutting through the air like a whip. His grip on Jerica’s arm was unyielding, his protective instincts roaring to life in a way that felt more suffocating than safe. His piercing gaze flicked from her to Catherine, his suspicion burning hotter with every passing second.

"Jared!" Jerica protested, tugging against his hold, frustration mounting in her chest. "She wasn’t—"

"I don’t care!" Jared’s voice rose, silencing her. He shifted his glare to Catherine, who stood frozen, her wide eyes reflecting both confusion and alarm. "This is exactly what I was talking about! You have no idea what’s going on, Jerica, and you’re walking straight into danger without a second thought!"

Jerica sighed, forcing herself to swallow her retort. Right, I need to handle this baby before he goes nuclear. She let him lead her, the tension between them crackling like static electricity. Catherine stood rooted to the spot, watching silently as Jerica was pulled away, her mouth slightly open as though she wanted to say something but thought better of it.

"Get in," Jared ordered, throwing the passenger door open. Jerica slipped into the seat without argument, biting back a sharp response. Her pulse was quickening, not just from his anger but from the unmistakable prickle of unease crawling up her spine. She didn’t have to look to know Jared was scanning their surroundings as he rounded the car.

Just as Jared’s hand reached for his door handle, the atmosphere shifted. Shadows moved where there shouldn’t have been any, and from the corner of her eye, Jerica saw them: three figures emerging from the side of the building. Her breath hitched.

"Jared," she whispered, but it was too late.

Two men, faces obscured by ski masks, slipped silently into the back seat. The third, taller and more imposing, pressed something against Jared’s back. The unmistakable click of a gun safety being released sent a chill down Jerica’s spine.

"Don’t make a fuss," the man growled, his voice low and rough, like gravel scraping against steel. "Get in."

Jared froze, his broad shoulders tensing as his mind worked furiously. His head turned slightly, just enough for Jerica to see his profile—the set jaw, the fire in his eyes.

She remembered the gun he had tucked into his waistband. Her heart raced as she clenched her fists, trying to stay calm.

Was Judge Jefferson really this fast? How had they arrived so soon? Was Jared’s paranoia justified? Was he being watched?

Jerica’s mind raced with a thousand questions.