From His Wife to His Uncle's Wife novel Chapter 194

The steady drip of water woke Eleanor in the cold, damp basement.

She blinked, trying to get her bearings. It took a moment to realize she couldn’t move—her wrists and ankles were bound tight. Panic flared as she tried to piece together what had happened. Jared had messaged her, she’d gone to his school, slipped down an alley, and… everything went black. She’d been taken.

A harsh beam of light cut through the darkness, blinding her.

“Well, look who finally woke up.” The voice was raspy and rough, scraping down her spine like nails on a chalkboard.

Squinting away from the glare, Eleanor managed to make out the shape of a man standing in front of her. He was tall and lanky, dressed head to toe in black, his baseball cap turned backwards. His cheeks were sunken, his smile twisted and mean. But it wasn’t just the threat in his face—something about him felt familiar. A memory flashed through her mind. That day outside her office, rain pouring down, this same man lurking under the streetlights. She gasped. “It’s you.”

He grinned wider. “That’s right. You recognize me. How about you try guessing my name?”

He stepped closer, his eyes roaming over her. Eleanor’s white T-shirt clung to her, soaked and nearly see-through, her heart pounding so hard it hurt. Her dark, wide eyes were filled with fear, and she could see how much that pleased him. It was the way a predator looked at its prey, not a father looking at his daughter.

Her mind raced, unwilling but unable to deny what she already suspected. “You’re Patrick.”

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head with mock admiration. “Smart girl. You really are my daughter.”

He leaned in, his gaze glued to her face. “My beautiful, beautiful girl.”

His fingers were rough as they grabbed her chin. Eleanor glared back, voice trembling but defiant. “What do you want?”

Patrick just laughed, his eyes lighting up at her anger. “You know, you’re even prettier when you’re mad.”

He laughed again, louder this time, like he found the whole thing hilarious. Then, out of nowhere, a silver knife appeared in his hand. He pressed it to her cheek, trailing it slowly down her skin.

Eleanor’s breath caught in her throat. She didn’t dare move.

“Come on, use your head. I want money. The money your ex-husband gave you.”

He leaned in, voice low and slimy. “Give me a billion and I’ll let you go. Sure, you’re pretty, but I’m not that much of a monster.”

Eleanor’s heart hammered against her ribs. She couldn’t let herself believe him for even a second. Men like Patrick—gamblers, liars—they’d say anything for a payout.

“I don’t have a billion. He only gave me fifty million. If you don’t believe me, check for yourself. I’ll give you the money. But you have to let me go first. It’s the only way.”

Patrick just laughed, shaking his head. “You think I’m that stupid?”

He smirked, knife glinting in the light. “I let you go, and wait for you to send the money? Please. The cops would have me in cuffs before you even hit transfer.”