"Your fiancé's helicopter just landed at the base of the mountain, Miss Macdonald." The kidnapper in the black ski mask kicked a chunk of frozen wood across the cabin floor. His heavy boot crushed the frost with a loud crunch before he tossed a glowing satellite phone in front of Hazel Macdonald. He glanced at his wristwatch, his voice rough. "He only has time for one coordinate. Your weak little cousin is in the southern valley. You're up north." Hazel curled on the freezing wooden planks of the abandoned Adirondack logging cabin. Her spine pressed against a rough cedar pillar, and coarse hemp ropes bit deep into her slender wrists. As the sole heir to the East Coast old-money Macdonald family trust and this year's Academy Award frontrunner for Best Actress, she was used to spotlights, not freezing darkness. Frost clung to her eyelashes. Every shallow breath turned into white mist, and her fingertips were already purple and numb. She forced her heavy eyelids open. Through blurry vision, she stared at the familiar name flashing on the screen: Hugh Maxwell, the second son of the Maxwell Media conglomerate and the man she had loved for seven years. Shivering violently, she dragged her frozen chin across the icy floor to press the speaker button. Howling wind and hurried footsteps instantlycrackled through the receiver, drowned out by the roar of helicopter blades. "What now?" Hugh's voice came through, thick with impatience. Hazel's cracked lips trembled as she squeezed every ounce of strength from her throat. "Hugh... I'm in the abandoned cabin on the north ridge. I'm freezing... Save me..." Dead silence fell on the other end for two seconds, followed by Hugh's mocking laugh. Standing beside his helicopter in the snowstorm, Hugh rubbed the space between his eyebrows. His voice was like a bucket of ice water poured over her head. "Hazel, how many times are you going to play this game? Do you really think staging a kidnapping the night before the Oscars will force me to announce our engagement?" Hazel's stomach twisted into a tight knot. Tears mixed with frost slid down her cheeks. "It's not an act... They have guns. They took Kaylee and me. Please, just believe me once..." "Enough," Hugh snapped, his tone dripping with disgust. "Kaylee has always been frail. She's down in the southern valley right now, too terrified to even speak, while you still have the energy to make up lines." In the background, a soft, delicate sob echoed through the phone. "Hugh... I'm so cold. I'm scared of the dark..." It was Kaylee Quinn, the distant orphaned cousin the Macdonald family had taken in out of charity. At the sound of Kaylee's cry, Hugh's voice instantly softened, before turning sharp again toward Hazel. "Stop throwing a tantrum, Hazel. I have to make sure Kaylee makes it to the red carpet tomorrow night. Stay in the mountains as long as you want." Hazel bit down hard on her pale lower lip until warm bloodbena tasted on her tongue. "If you don't come tonight... I'll die here..." "A year from today is when we hold our wedding in the Hamptons," Hugh cut her off coldly. "Don't use your selfishness as an excuse to act spoiled." Beep-beep— The harsh dial tone echoed through the empty cabin. The kidnapper picked up the satellite phone and snorted. "Looks like Young Master Maxwell doesn't care if you live or die. The rightful heiress is worth less than a foster cousin." He shoved the phone into his pocket, walked toward the exit, and kicked over the only iron brazier in the room. The dying embers hissed and went out in the snow. The wooden door slammed shut, followed by the crisp click of a heavy iron padlock. Freezing wind poured through the broken window frames. Within minutes, the temperature plummeted. Hazel leaned helplessly against the cedar pillar, trying to curl into a ball, but her limbs had lost all feeling. Through the broken window, she saw a bright red rescue flare shoot into the night sky over the southern valley. Hugh and his rescue team had gone straight for Kaylee, leaving her behind. Seven years of memories flashed through her mind-how she had stepped back from managing her family's hundred-billion-dollar trust to boost his media career, and how she had acted as his public relations shield. The tears on her lashes froze solid. Her breathing grew shallow, her heartbeat slowing to a heavy thud as darkness pulled her down. Suddenly, the roar of an engine pushed past its limit tore through the snowstorm outside. Twin beams of blinding high-beam headlights cut through the swirling snow, lighting up the broken cabin window. A car door was kicked open, followed by frantic, heavy boots crunching through the deep snow, running straight toward the cabin.

With a deafening crash, the thin wooden door of the cabin flew off its hinges, and swirling snow rushed inside. Banks Gordon stood in the doorway, his broad shoulders covered in snow and the hem of his black overcoat torn by branches. As the ruthless head of the Gordon financial empire on Wall Street, he had been Hazel's sworn enemy for years. His chest heaved with ragged breaths, and his ice-blue eyes shrank the second he spotted the motionless figure tied to the pillar. Ignoring the broken glass and wood splinters underfoot, Banks strode forward, dropped to one knee in the snow, and yanked off his leather gloves. He pulled a military tactical folding knife from his belt and sliced through the thick hemp ropes binding Hazel's wrists. Without the ropes holding her up, Hazel slumped forward. Banks caught her icy body in his strong arms, pulling her tight against his warm chest. Hazel forced her eyelids open a crack, making out the sharp jawline of Manhattan's most feared billionaire. Her pale lips quivered. "Banks... why... is it you..." Banks stripped off his warm cashmere coat, wrapped it tightly around her, and frantically rubbed her frozen hands between his palms. "Don't sleep, Hazel! Look at me. Keep your eyes open!" Just then, the satellite phone dropped by the kidnapper in the snow lit up. An encrypted video message popped up and played automatically. On the screen, Kaylee sat inside a warm, luxurious RV, tilting a glass of red wine toward the camera with a twisted smile. "Dear cousin Hazel, thank you for being so stupid. You didn't just hand Hugh over to me—you even took the blame for killing your own parents." Kaylee swirled her wine, her voice sweet and venomous. "I was the one who cut the brake lines before their car crash. And tomorrow night, that Best Actress statue is mine too." Hazel's heart felt as if an invisible hand had squeezed it shut. The truth hit her like a physical blow. Her parents hadn't died in an accident caused by Banks's business retaliation, as Hugh had told her for years. The murderer was the cousin she had protected, and she had spent years hating the wrong man. Banks glanced at the screen, murderous rage flashing in his ice-blue eyes, before he pressed his warm forehead against hers. His voice shook with sheer panic. "Don't listen to that, Hazel. Hold on to me! The ambulance is three miles away. I'm getting you out!" He scooped her up into his arms and charged out into the blizzard, where the snow was already knee-deep. The wind howled at thirty below zero. When he reached the SUV, the engine let out a harsh grinding noise and died completely in the extreme cold. Cursing under his breath, Banks carried her back into the corner of the cabin out of the wind. He tore off his suit jacket, trying to use every bit of his body heat to warm herweight frame. Warm drops of liquid fell onto Hazel's frozen cheek, melting the frost. The ruthless tyrant of Wall Street was crying for her. Banks ripped open his shirt collar and pressed her icy cheek directly against his bare, pounding chest. Through her fading senses, Hazel's numb fingertips brushed against a raised scar over his heart—a tattooed letter "H" carved deep into his skin. He buried his face in her frozen hair, his voice breaking into choked sobs. "Since the first time I saw you in the hallway at that Long Island prep school when we were seventeen... my life has been yours... Please, don't leave me..." Ten years of hidden love crashed over Hazel. The man she had treated as her mortal enemy was the only one willing to die for her. She used her last shred of strength to raise her hand, wanting to touch his face and say she was sorry. Her fingertips brushed the rough stubble on his jaw, and then her arm dropped lifelessly to the floor. Her heart stopped, and her eyes slid shut. Feeling the body in his arms go completely cold, Banks froze. A second later, a raw, agonizing roar tore from his throat. Above the cabin floor, a pale, translucent soul drifted up from the corpse. Floating in midair, Hazel looked down at Banks clutching her dead body and weeping, while transparent tears slipped down her face.

As Hazel's soul drifted upward, an unseen force pulled her away from the snow-covered mountains, dragging her across miles of white landscape until she stopped inside the master bedroom of the Maxwell estate in the Hamptons. Morning sunlight reflected off the snow outside, while expensive fruitwood crackled warmly in the fireplace. Floating beside the crystal chandelier, Hazel looked down at the lavish room. Kaylee was curled up in Hugh's arms on a dark gray leather sofa, wearing the custom silk robe Hazel kept at the estate. In her hand, Kaylee swirled a glass of champagne. Hugh sat beside her, his fingers turning an eight-carat cushion-cut emerald ring—the Macdonald family heirloom meant for Hazel's engagement. Kaylee tilted her face up, fake worry in her pale green eyes. "Hugh, Hazel still isn't answering her phone. It's freezing in the mountains. What if she..." Hugh scoffed and slid the massive emerald ring onto Kaylee's ring finger. "She brought it on herself. Trying to use a cheap kidnapping stunt to force my hand? She's probably hiding in some five-star hotel right now waiting for me to apologize." Staring at the sparkling gem on her finger, Kaylee hid a greedy smile and buried her face against Hugh's neck. "As long as you're with me, I'm not afraid of anything... You'll walk the Oscars red carpet with me tonight, right?" Hugh stroked her blonde curls, his tone arrogant. "Of course. Once the Macdonald family trust is merged into the Maxwell Group through our offshore restructuring, you'll be the biggest star in America tonight." Hovering near the ceiling, Hazel stared at the man she had given everything for, her chest tightening with pure revulsion. Suddenly, the screech of tires echoed from the driveway below, shattering the quiet morning. A heavy, bulletproof black Cadillac Escalade rammed straight through the estate's wrought-iron gates with a deafening metallic crash. Hugh jumped up from the sofa, frowning as he strode to the floor-to-ceiling window. "What the hell is going on? Who dares break into the Maxwell estate?" Kaylee shrank back into the corner of the sofa, spilling champagne onto the rug. Down on the snowy driveway, the Cadillac door opened. Banks stepped out, carrying a heavy black tactical briefcase. Dried pine needles and bloodstains from the Adirondacks still clung to his black coat. When the rear passenger door slid open, Hazel saw her own pale corpse lying quietly under a thick cashmere blanket on the backseat. Banks locked the car door, gripped the briefcase, and walked up the marble steps. Four estate security guards rushed forward with tasers drawn. Without slowing down, Banks side-stepped the first guard, drove a brutal elbow into the man's nose with a sickening crack, snatched a baton, and slammed the second guard to the ground. Within ten seconds, all four guards lay groaning on the snow. Watching from the second floor, Hugh's face turned livid. He hurried into the adjoining study to grab his handgun. Boom! The double oak doors of the master bedroom flew open under Banks's heavy kick, sending wood splinters flying. Banks stood in the doorway, his ice-blue eyes locked onto Hugh and the half-dressed Kaylee. Kaylee screamed and hid behind the bedpost, pointing a shaking finger at him. "Banks Gordon! Are you crazy? This is private property! I'm calling the police!" Banks didn't even look at her. He threw the heavy tactical briefcase onto the center of the floor. The latches popped open, revealing rows of high-compression incendiary canisters and a digital detonator. Hugh rushed out of the study, aiming a pistol straight between Banks's eyes. "Banks, what the hell do you think you're doing? Where is Hazel?" A cruel smile twisted Banks's lips as he slid open the cover of the remote trigger. "She's waiting for me in the car... and you two are staying here torot in hell with her."