Ayra had taken a cold shower. The icy water bit at her skin but soothed the burning ache pulsing beneath the surface. The bruises and hickeys were still there—tender, unforgiving—but they were less noticeable now. With a little makeup and the right lighting, she'd look as beautiful as ever. Unbothered. Untouched. Untainted.
She stood in front of the cracked mirror in her room, applying foundation with practiced ease. Her hands were steady, even if her heart wasn't. First, she concealed the swelling on her cheek. Then, the faint mark on her jaw. Her lip still had a split, but the gloss would fix that.
It was when she got to the hickey, the angry blotch beneath her collarbone, that the door burst open.
"What the hell is that?" sneered Tessa—her youngest stepsister, eyes gleaming with triumph.
Ayra flinched, quickly pulling her robe tighter.
"I knew it," Tessa said, stepping further into the room. "I've always known you weren't as innocent as you pretend. A prostitute, huh? It makes sense. That's the only way someone like you could ever feel special."
Ayra's chest tightened. "Tessa, please. Don't—"
"I should tell Dad," she cut in gleefully. "And Lucas. Let's see how long that engagement lasts once they see what you really are."
"No!" Ayra stepped forward, desperation breaking into her voice. "Please don't tell anyone. I'll do anything—anything you want."
Tessa paused, lips curling into a smug little smile. "Anything?"
Before she could answer, the door swung open again. Her stepmother, Valerie, walked in with her other stepsister, Clara, trailing behind her.
"What's going on in here?" Valerie demanded, eyes immediately narrowing on Ayra's half-covered chest.
Tessa didn't wait. "She's hiding hickeys, Mom. She's been sleeping around. Just look!"
Valerie's gaze darkened as it landed on the fading marks. Clara let out a loud, scandalized gasp.
"You filthy little thing," Valerie snapped. "And to think we were finally going to get rid of you properly. Now you want to ruin it all?"
"I wasn't—" Ayra started, but Clara cut her off.
"Lucas Brooks is not going to marry someone who looks like she works the nightclubs. Do you know how important this marriage is for us?"
Valerie nodded stiffly. "The Brooks are the key to everything. Their father manages one of the Harrison empires, and that's just one leg of their influence. We've worked too hard to let you mess it up."
Ayra's throat tightened, shame crawling over her skin. She hadn't even agreed to the engagement, but no one ever asked what she wanted.
Valerie crossed her arms. "Fix yourself, Ayra. Do whatever it takes to hide that filth. If Lucas finds out, your life won't be the only one destroyed. And don't even think of messing this up. You owe us."
Tessa gave her one last victorious glance before tossing her hair and walking out. Clara followed, shooting a look of disgust over her shoulder.
Ayra was left alone with the mirror again.
Her reflection stared back at her, broken and polished all at once.
She picked up the concealer again, this time slower.
Because whether she liked it or not... she had to play the part.
For now.
Ayra stood in front of the mirror, taking one last glance at herself. The makeup had worked wonders, hiding the bruises, the red marks, the memories of last night. She'd replaced the robes with a simple dress—elegant, modest, just as her stepmother demanded. She knew her family would expect her to play the part of the dutiful fiancée, but it felt like suffocating in a cage of lies.
She grabbed her purse, her fingers trembling. Tonight was important. Tonight could change everything.
---
Adrian Harrison stepped out of the sleek black SUV, flanked by two guards in dark suits. The towering glass skyscraper before him shimmered in the early morning light, reflecting power, wealth, and precision—just like the man approaching it.
Without a single word, Adrian walked through the automatic doors of the Harrison Global headquarters. The marble floors gleamed beneath his polished shoes, each step echoing with purpose. Employees stopped what they were doing to acknowledge him—"Good morning, sir," "Welcome, Mr. Harrison"—but their greetings were met with the usual silence.
Adrian never replied. Not because he was rude. No—he just didn't believe in wasting breath on people who didn't matter.
The women in the building, however, couldn't help but watch him. Their eyes followed the broad shoulders, the tailored black suit hugging his tall frame, the chiseled jawline, and the eyes—those sharp, unreadable eyes that held no warmth. Adrian Harrison was beautiful in the most dangerous way. The kind of man you wanted to touch, but never dared to.
He reached the elevator, and like every day, entered alone. No one else was allowed in when Adrian was inside—not even his guards. It was an unspoken rule. The elevator doors closed behind him, and the guards waited to take the next one.
On the 21st floor—the top of the building—the doors slid open to reveal the largest, most extravagant office space in the company. The entire floor belonged to him. No one else had access unless invited. Frosted glass panels, a minimalist aesthetic, and floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city skyline. His world was silver, black, and sterile. Just like him.
Waiting outside the office was his personal assistant, a slim, efficient man in his early thirties, dressed in gray with a tablet in hand. His name was Cole Bennett, and he was one of the very few people who interacted with Adrian daily.
"Good morning, sir," Cole said, bowing his head slightly as Adrian approached.
Adrian didn't respond. He pushed the glass door open, walked in, and sat behind his massive desk made of imported oak. His fingers flew across his laptop keyboard with practiced ease. Numbers. Reports. Global stock market trends. That was his language.
Cole entered after him and stood respectfully at a distance, waiting for the right moment. When it didn't come, he cleared his throat.
"There's been… an incident," Cole said carefully, his voice low but clear. "Social media exploded overnight with rumors that you… entertained someone in your penthouse suite."
Adrian didn't even look up. His fingers didn't pause.
"They don't know who the woman is. But the fact that someone like you—" Cole hesitated, choosing his words, "—would be seen with a woman at all… let's just say it caught everyone off guard."
Adrian's gaze lifted slowly, cool and calculating. "Handled?"
Cole nodded. "Yes, sir. I had the PR team scrub everything—photos, threads, hashtags. It's as if it never happened. Though the damage to your image was minimal, the women online are furious. They're calling the mystery woman every name in the book."
Adrian gave the faintest nod—a signal that he'd heard, processed, and was done with the topic.
Cole took the hint and backed away. "I'll be outside if you need me."
The door shut behind him.
Adrian leaned back in his chair, staring at the laptop screen, but his mind wasn't on the data anymore. For the first time in years, something had disrupted his perfectly controlled world.
A woman.
He didn't know her name.
Didn't remember her face.
But the faint, haunting scent of jasmine and vanilla still lingered in his sheets.
And for a man who hated women, that was a problem.
A big one.
---
The Wilder family's house was buzzing with tension as they prepared for the dinner. Ayra's stepmother, Valerie, and her stepsisters were already putting on their best faces, getting ready for the Brooks family to arrive. Ayra's role was clear: look perfect, act perfect, keep her past a secret, and make Lucas Brooks want her.
It was laughable.
But as she walked down the hallway, each step seemed heavier than the last. She had no choice. She had to play along, even if it meant losing herself in the process.
---
The dinner was a well-coordinated affair—elegant, formal, designed for appearances. The Brooks family had arrived, Lucas included. He was taller than Ayra had imagined, with a chiseled jawline, dark hair, and an air of cold confidence that felt almost suffocating. His family, however, was warm and easygoing, making polite conversation while Ayra sat there, her nerves getting the best of her.
She kept her distance, watching Lucas closely. His eyes never lingered on her for long. He wasn't interested. Not really. And that realization should have made her feel relief, but instead, it settled like a stone in her stomach.
---
As the dinner progressed, Ayra smiled and nodded, pretending to be the obedient fiancée. But her mind kept drifting. What was Lucas thinking? What did he really want from her? She couldn't shake the feeling that everything was a game, and she was merely a pawn in it.
Halfway through the meal, her phone buzzed in her pocket.
Ayra felt a jolt of panic. She glanced down beneath the table and saw the unknown number flashing on her screen.
You left in a hurry. You forgot your earrings.
Her heart stopped. She knew exactly who it was. She didn't need to look to recognize the tone—the message, the familiar coldness.
It was him.
The man from last night. The one she couldn't remember, but whose presence haunted her every step.
Her fingers hovered over the phone, but she quickly forced them away. She couldn't let anyone see the message. Not here. Not now.
She slipped her phone back into her purse, her heart racing. Lucas was still watching her, but his gaze was distant, uninterested. He didn't know, not yet, but something about the way he looked at her made her think he was already playing his own game.
---
Ayra took a deep breath, her mind running a mile a minute. Her family wanted this marriage with Lucas to be real. They needed it to be real. But Ayra knew better. This wasn't just about her and Lucas. It was about power. It was about her family climbing higher on the social ladder, and she was the stepping stone.
She glanced at the man across the table. Lucas Brooks might not know who she really was. But Ayra knew one thing for sure—she couldn't keep hiding from the truth forever. And there were people, both in her past and present, who had no intentions of letting her forget.
---
Adrian dropped his phone, his expectations of no reply weighing heavily on him. The estate manager, the one who had brought him the information about Arya, still stood five meters away, visibly trembling under the weight of Adrian's cold stare. It wasn't the first time he had seen Adrian with that look—this frozen, emotionless mask that had become his signature since his teenage years. Since then, Adrian had lost his humanity, and no one had ever seen the slightest hint of warmth in his eyes.
Yet, the estate manager still held onto a sliver of hope, a hope that one day someone would come into Adrian's life, someone capable of bringing him back from the abyss. Someone who would make him feel again.
But now, as Adrian stood up and began walking toward him, the estate manager couldn't help but feel like he was walking toward his execution. Each of Adrian's steps seemed to echo through the room, amplifying the dread in the manager's chest. He couldn't help but think that these might be his last moments, that Adrian's rage was a fire that could consume him without a second thought.
Adrian's piercing gaze never wavered as he closed the distance between them. The manager could feel the cold aura radiating from Adrian, and his heart raced with the fear of what was to come. Adrian finally reached him, standing just a foot away. His expression remained unwavering as he spoke with a voice that was as icy as the air around them.
"If what happened last night ever repeats itself," Adrian said in a low, dangerous tone, "I'll make sure you regret it. I don't care who you are or how long you've worked here. Cross me again, and you'll never see the light of day again."
The estate manager's body trembled even more now, his throat tight as he struggled to breathe. Adrian's threat was as clear as it was terrifying. He had no doubt that Adrian was capable of following through with it, and that thought sent a shiver down his spine.
Without a second glance, Adrian turned and walked out of the room, leaving the manager standing there, frozen, as if he were still processing the weight of the threat. The room felt colder without Adrian's presence, and the manager realized just how close he had come to losing his life in that moment.
As the door clicked shut behind Adrian, the manager let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding, still haunted by the chilling words that would linger in his mind for a long time.