Kidnapping the Heiress, Shattering My Fiancée’s Lies

In my previous life, my fiancée accused me of being the murderer in a serial killing case. I couldn’t prove my innocence and was stabbed to death by the furious families of the victims.

Even my parents were implicated and burned alive in our home.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day my fiancée accused me of being a deranged killer.

In my previous life, I had been with my colleagues at the time of the crime, yet my fiancée produced a video showing me at the scene, plunging me into a hopeless abyss.

To avoid repeating the tragedy, the best plan was to create a sensational piece of news that proved I wasn’t at the crime scene. But that was no easy feat.

Suddenly, my eyes lit up—wasn’t that the billionaire’s daughter?

I started a livestream on my phone and rushed forward, pulling her into a hotel room.

“Miss Hamilton, I’m your childhood fiancé. Please honor your promise now and marry me.”

Claire Hamilton was terrified. Immediately, her bodyguards and a crowd of classmates and admirers surrounded the scene.

“Miss Hamilton, if you won’t acknowledge the engagement, then tonight I’ll make sure things go far enough that you can’t deny it.”

...

Gasps filled the room.

Claire cried out in shock, “Who are you? I don’t even know you!”

She was the daughter of a billionaire, twenty-three or twenty-four, delicate features, refined manners. I held her soft hand at the doorway; she seemed as fragile as glass.

She had grown up shielded like a hothouse flower, with little ability to deal with sudden crises.

Holding such a girl hostage made me uneasy.

But thinking of my fiancée’s ruthlessness, I could only sneer. “Have you forgotten? Our grandfathers betrothed us when we were born.”

“My family was poor, not in your league. Now that you’re wealthy, you want to break the promise?”

I tried to guilt-trip her.

Claire’s face flushed red, and she yanked her hand back. “Sir, I don’t know you, and I’ve never heard of any childhood engagement!”

I gave a bitter smile to the livestream camera. “Everyone, you see this? She’s the billionaire’s daughter, while I’m just an ordinary office worker. My words carry no weight—she’s breaking the promise!”

As I spoke, I produced a marriage contract I had just paid to rush-print from a street vendor’s ad.

It read: Our son Jason Miller and your daughter Claire Hamilton are hereby bound in engagement, to wed when the girl turns twenty-four.

Viewers in the livestream, half-skeptical, immediately began cursing Claire.

“So what if you’re rich? A promise is a promise!”

“Because she’s a billionaire’s daughter, she can just call it off?”

The onlookers at the scene also began criticizing Claire for breaking her word.

“Didn’t think the Hamiltons would be so faithless.”

Stomping her foot in anger, Claire cursed, “You—you’re full of crap!”

Her admirers and companions fumed.

“You broke loser, waving a scrap of paper and claiming Claire is your wife?”

“Bastard, I think he’s just here to cause trouble—beat him!”

Most of them were spoiled rich kids, reckless and fearless. They all rushed at me.

I hurriedly slammed the door shut.

Now it was just the two of us alone in the room, the atmosphere tense.

Claire grew frightened, instinctively covering her chest. “Don’t… don’t you dare. That’s a crime!”

Outside, her companions shouted threats, pounded the door, and even warned they would call the police.