The man thrashed against the chair, his muscles straining as he twisted and pulled with everything he had. But it was useless.
No matter how violently he struggled, the chair wouldn't budge—it was as if it were bolted to the floor, an immovable force against his frantic desperation.
His wrists burned from the tight restraints, his breath came in ragged gasps, and sweat dripped down his face.
But the physical confinement wasn't the worst part. No, what truly terrified him was the glaring hole in his memory.
He had gone to sleep as usual, in the comfort of his own bed, beside his wife.
Nothing had been out of the ordinary.
And yet, when he woke up, he found himself here—tied down, immobilized, and completely powerless.
He had no recollection of how he had ended up in this situation.
His heart pounded wildly in his chest.
"Ashley, wake up! That's not me!" he screamed in his mind, his thoughts a frantic plea.
