A Billionaire Groom Stopped His Wedding For A Beggar Child — Until She Handed Him His Missing Wife’s Key

Adrian’s hands shook uncontrollably as he shoved the rusted metal key into the heavy brass padlock hanging on the iron gate. The mechanism was stiff from years of moisture, refusing to turn.

"Dammit! Turn!" Adrian roared, exerting all his strength until the metal creaked and the lock clicked open with a heavy snap.

He threw the heavy iron door open and rushed into the cell.

Lying on a thin, dirt-stained mattress in the corner was a woman. Her hair was long, matted, and streaked with grey, her body painfully thin, wrapped in a threadbare blanket. But as the flashlight beam caught her pale face, Adrian recognized those breathtaking green eyes instantly.

It was Eleanor.

Adrian fell to his knees beside the mattress, pulling her frail body into his chest with overwhelming force. He buried his face in her neck, sobbing uncontrollably like a child.

"I'm here... I'm here, my love," Adrian wept, his tears soaking into her ragged clothes. "Forgive me... please forgive me..."

Eleanor’s thin, trembling hands slowly rose, reaching up to touch his face. Her fingers traced his jawline, his nose, his dark wavy hair, as if ensuring he wasn't a dream born of her madness.

"You found our girls...?" Eleanor whispered, her voice barely a breath. "Are Clara and Mia safe?"

"They are safe! They're outside in the car with the doctor!" Adrian cried, kissing her pale cheeks, her forehead, her cold lips. "They saved us both, Eleanor. Our daughters brought me back to you."