Scovia’s eyelids felt impossibly heavy, weighed down by some invisible force. Her head throbbed, each pulse echoing through her skull like a drum. Her body ached as if she had run for miles without rest, every muscle tight and sore. She groaned softly, slowly opening her eyes, squinting against the dim light that seeped through the curtains.

Wait… where am I?

Her gaze darted around the room. The walls were unfamiliar. The furniture was foreign. Panic prickled at the edges of her mind. She tried to remember, last night—what had happened?

“No… no, this can’t be happening,” she whispered, her voice shaky. “I was supposed to meet Reynolds last night. I only had a glass of soft drink. Nothing else…” Her mind spun, trying to piece together fragments of memory, but it was like grasping at shadows. What had happened?

No. That couldn’t be. She hadn’t drunk anything that could make her black out. So how… how did she end up here?

Her eyes shifted to the side, searching for her phone. It wasn’t on the small table beside her bed. Panic tightened its grip. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, wincing as every movement sent sharp jolts through her body.

And then her eyes darted to her left. The sight made her gasp in shock. A man—tall, broad, undeniably masculine—was asleep next to her. His presence froze her in place. Her mind screamed in disbelief, confusion, and fear.

“What… what…?” she whispered, barely able to breathe.

The man stirred slightly but didn’t wake fully. Her pulse quickened. Heart hammering, she scrambled backward, pulling the blanket around herself as if it could shield her from the reality of the situation.

“Who are you? What are you doing in my room?!” she shouted, her voice cracking with panic. “What did you do to me? Tell me nothing happened! Please, don’t tell me…”

The man blinked, clearly caught off guard. He stared at her, silent, as if unsure whether she was simply naïve—or hopelessly foolish.

“Hey! Say something! Stop just looking at me like that—it’s disgusting!” Her voice trembled, but she forced it higher, sharper, more commanding.

Finally, he moved. Slowly, deliberately, he rose to his feet, his gaze never leaving hers. Without a word, he started walking toward the bathroom.

“Hey! Where are you going?” Scovia’s voice cracked as she backed away instinctively.

“Didn't you have enough of last night? Do you want more?” he called back sarcastically, a smirk in his voice.

Scovia’s face turned red with anger and shame. “You’re shameless! Your whole family is shameless! Get out!” she shouted, grabbing a nearby pillow and hurling it at him.

The man stopped only for a moment, scoffing, and then disappeared behind the bathroom door.

Scovia let out a shaky breath. Relief washed over her, mingled with lingering fear and rage. She shivered as she pulled on her clothes as quickly as possible. Her hands were trembling, and her thoughts were spinning. Never mind that he had taken advantage of her last night—how dare he make fun of her! She shivered in anger. I hope I never see him again.

Quickly, she pulled on her clothes. She checked herself in the mirror, noticing her disheveled hair, the redness around her eyes, and the lingering soreness of her body. Her heart sank further. Something had happened last night. She didn’t remember the details, but her instincts told her she wasn’t imagining it. Then left the room before he emerged from the shower.

Meanwhile, he stepped out of the bathroom, noticing she was gone. On the bed was a hastily written note:

"I don’t care about whatever happened last night. Be a good boy and don’t cause trouble. This beautiful sister hopes to never see you again."

He scoffed, amused, and took out his phone. “Finally found you,” he muttered. He snapped a few photos of the room and the note, then called his men. “Use these pictures for your investigation find out everything about this incident. Don’t miss anything. Keep an eye on her.” With that, he hung up.

As Scovia hailed a cab and climbed in, guilt consumed her. How could she have been so reckless? Reynolds… her first love, her everything, would never forgive her if he found out. Six years of devotion, six years of careful love… gone. She had never let herself be intimate with him—not fully. Holding hands, a few kisses—nothing more. And now?

A stranger had stolen her first time from her, and he could barely remember last night or even how she had ended up putting herself in that situation. She buried her face in her hands, whispering to herself,“I deserve whatever comes… whatever karma is waiting for me.”

Scovia… what did you do? She chastised herself. Reynolds… he’ll never forgive me. Six years of love, all gone. How could I be so reckless?

Her mind raced, imagining every possible outcome. Reynolds’ heartbreak. His disappointment. The shame. The judgment. Every scenario ended with her alone, guilty, and broken.

She tried to steady her breathing as the cab rattled over the streets. Her eyes stared blankly out the window, seeing the city lights blur into streaks of yellow and white. She barely noticed the cab slowing down.

“Miss, we’re here,” the driver said kindly.

“I… I don’t have cash. Can I pay by card?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Sure,” the driver said, handing her the terminal.

Stepping out, Scovia shivered. The air was cool, brushing against her flushed skin. She paused at the gate, her legs weak, her hands trembling as they gripped the iron bars. She didn’t want to go in. She didn’t want to face what might happen.

And yet, she knew she had no choice. Reynolds deserved the truth. She had to confess.

Slowly, painfully, she approached the door. Every step was heavy, each one echoing in her chest like a drumbeat. Her heart raced as she reached the door to her room.

Her hand hovered over the knob, trembling violently. She took a deep breath, willing herself to be brave.

And then… she froze.

Something—or someone—was inside.

Her stomach dropped, her pulse thundered, and she felt a cold shiver run down her spine.

Familiar voices floated out from the open crack of her bedroom door, soft enough to be casual but loud enough to cut through the fog in Scovia’s mind. One voice was Reynolds’. That fact felt like a small hot coal in her chest — painful and impossible to ignore.

She felt two pulls at once: relief because she had come here knowing he would be around, and dread because she had to face him. She had rushed home because she was almost certain he would be here. He always came by the house now and then; that had been one of the reasons she chose to come here when she woke up disoriented. If anything, she wanted the safety of a familiar face — not the stranger she had woken next to.

But the other voice... that was a shock.

“Kallen,” Scovia breathed. Her cousin’s voice had a soft, breathy edge — the kind of voice that could be flirtatious in one sentence and cruel in the next. It made her stomach twist.

Scovia pushed herself away from the door and stood very still. Her heart beat so hard she thought the whole house could hear it. She wanted to press herself back into the shadows and listen. She needed to know. Every step she had taken that morning had led here — to the place where everything might crash and burn.

“…Rey,” Kallen said, the laugh in her voice like oil on burning paper — smooth, dangerous. “How long are we going to keep hiding this? I can’t take it any longer, especially when I see you holding hands with her in public. It hurts.”

“Kallen,” Reynolds answered, but the way he said it was not gentle. There was a tightness to his tone that made Scovia’s mouth go dry. “Stop being jealous. You know it’s you I love. Just wait. I’m getting what I want.”

Scovia pressed her back against the wall. Her knees felt weak. She could not move yet — not until she had heard more. The heat of shame and horror crawled up her neck.

“You always say that,” Kallen continued. “But how long do I have to wait, Rey? Don’t you ever think of me? When will you make me Mrs. Cormen?”

A cold, confident laugh escaped Reynolds. “Soon,” he said. “Very soon. When Scovia realizes what she’s done, she’ll come crawling to me. That’s when I’ll show myself: the loving boyfriend who forgives. I’ll play the part so well, Kallen. And while she’s forever broken with guilt, I’ll sign the papers, take the legacy, and you’ll be by my side.”

Scovia’s head reeled. Legacy. Papers. The words hit her like a fist. She had heard rumors about her grandfather’s estate — that there were assets and papers and people waiting like vultures. But she had never imagined Danger would wear the face of the man she loved.

Kallen’s voice dropped into a teasing whisper. “And if she refuses to sign? What then? Will you take the baby and raise it? Will you carry that burden the rest of your life? Don’t underestimate her — she’s not as dumb as you think.”

A tired, dangerous sound came from Reynolds. “Just silence your mouth. Don’t start nonsense. I know what I’m doing. Bring your foolishness home — hurry up and leave before she wakes.”

Scovia felt something inside her break. Each word they said was a needle in her ribs.

“You sent men after her,” Kallen’s voice snapped suddenly, harsh and almost cruel. “You sent four men to hurt her? After six years? How could you be so heartless, Rey? After everything?”

A ring of silence followed the accusation. Scovia had not planned to hear that. Her hands began to shake. She could no longer stay hidden in the doorway. She felt as if the floor was melting under her feet.

“You shut up,” Reynolds hissed. There was a hint of threat in his voice now, a warning wrapped in anger. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t want rumors. You will be careful with your tongue, or you’ll know just how far I can go.”

Kallen’s voice slid back into that syrupy, flirtatious tone. “Whatever you say. But she. She should learn. I hate that proud look she always has—like she’s better than everyone else.”

Scovia felt tears spill down her face, hot and immediate. She did not try to hide them. The sound of those two people — the people she had trusted most — talking about her like she was a thing to be used and thrown away made her feel less than human. She had loved Reynolds with everything she had. Six years. All that time, she had believed in him, had held her heart back because she thought love was about patience and sacrifice.

And now — now she was the thing they planned to break.

By the time the two of them quieted into soft laughter again, Scovia could no longer stay. Her legs moved before her brain ordered them. She turned away from the door and left. She could not stand to hear any more. Every word had stripped a layer away from the man she thought she knew.

Scovia stumbled down the hallway, each step heavy with disbelief. She moved like a sleepwalker, driven by a single aching need: to get away. Away from their voices. Away from the house. Away from herself.

A bitter, cold thought slithered through Scovia's mind. She felt sick—not from the memory she couldn’t fully hold, but from the certainty that someone had planned this, that men had been paid, and the love she had treasured had always held a lie inside it.

Tears blurred her sight. She ran and did not stop until the street swallowed her and left her breathless under a smoky evening sky. She reached a bench outside and sat down, the cool wood under her legs sending a small shiver through her. She wrapped her arms around herself like someone trying to hold a core of courage together.

How could a man who kissed her hand in public and spoke tender words quietly to her be the same man who would plan to ruin her? How could he laugh about using her like some tool to get money? What had been her life if it could be spoken of like a plan to take a fortune? Six years of love tossed aside as a pawn in Reynolds’ scheme. She pressed her fingers to her temples and tried to breathe. Her tears fell like slow raindrops.

She told herself she had to think. She had to be practical. But there was no logic to hold onto. The memory of the man in the other room—the one who had slept beside her, the one who had laughed—woke a cold fury in her chest. She had not known what had been done to her, but the sound of Reynolds’ voice and the cruel comfort he took in her shame made it obvious: she had been set up.

The questions multiplied and circled in her head. For the first time, Scovia knew the taste of betrayal — metallic and bitter on her tongue.

Eventually, she dragged herself home, the door closing on the weight of the house. She carried nothing with her—no food, no plan, only heavy, hollow dread. Inside, the rooms were quiet. The curtains brushed the floor like folded hands.

She walked to her bedroom, but when she reached the door, something in her chest broke. She could not face it. Her legs gave out, and she fell to the floor, curling in on herself in a small, broken heap. Her body lay flat and hot and exhausted, but the mind would not go quiet.

She had already decided she would tell Reynolds everything. She told herself she would take the blame—whatever happened would be better if she faced it honestly. Yet now, after hearing him speak—after hearing how calmly he planned to take what was hers—she could not imagine that face forgiving her. How could one man be so cruel, so cold?

She let herself cry until there were no tears left. When the last salt dried on her cheeks, she dragged herself to bed, pulled the sheet up to her chin, and pressed her face into the pillow. Her body finally surrendered.

Scovia did not want to cry again. She wanted to sleep until tomorrow fixed everything. She wanted to forget the sound of Kallen's laugh, the casual cruelty of Reynolds’ words. Sleep took her like a slow sinking.

Across town, Reynolds sat in the living room like a man who expected victory. The TV screen was a muted glow, but his eyes were on his phone. He tapped it with a neat, impatient rhythm.

“Come on,” he muttered to himself. “Call me. Beg. Fall to your knees.”

He had planned this carefully. He had planned how to make Scovia fall into such guilt that she would be the one to come to him, broken and asking forgiveness. Then the papers would be easy. She would sign. She would sign away her grandfather’s legacy and hand it to him almost with her own hands.

He smiled at the thought. It was a small, thin expression, but something wild lived behind it. He pictured the life his grandparents had never given him: power, luxury, the kind of money that made people bend, cities that opened their doors. When he had the fortune, he would leave—go anywhere, build something new, and then look back at the Jones as something he had owned and then discarded.

He flipped open his phone and called her number.

“The number you are calling is temporarily unavailable. Please try again later,” an automated voice said.

Reynolds’ smile faltered, then hardened. Strange. She never turned her phone off. She always texted him if her battery was low. He shrugged it off. Maybe she’d lost it. Maybe the men had taken it. He opened his mouth to call a man, someone who could find out—

But another thought crept in, a cold one: what if she had remembered enough to run? What if she had gone to someone else who might have helped her? And what if the rumor reached those who could ruin everything before he touched the money?

His fingers tightened around the phone, knuckles white. “No,” he told himself. “She wouldn’t go anywhere. She can’t. She’s too proud.”

He leaned back on the couch and half-smiled. Outside, night wrapped the town in quiet. Inside the house, everything appeared normal. Reynolds felt the sweet, familiar taste of triumph.

“If she doesn’t come,” he muttered, “I’ll make her.”

Two long days passed before Scovia finally opened her eyes again. Her body still felt heavy, but the long sleep had given her enough strength to move. She dragged herself out of bed and stepped into the bathroom. The hot water from the shower washed over her, as though trying to rinse away her exhaustion and sorrow.

Afterward, she forced herself to eat something simple, just to calm the hunger gnawing at her stomach. When she finally picked up her phone and turned it on, it lit up instantly.

Almost immediately, it rang.

Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the caller ID—Reynolds.

For a brief moment, she hesitated, her thumb hovering over the answer button. A storm of emotions swirled in her chest—anger, disgust, sorrow, betrayal. But she steadied herself, took a long breath, and answered.

“Hello?”

“Scovia! What in the world happened to you?” Reynolds’ voice was filled with fake panic. “I couldn’t reach you for three days. Do you know how worried I’ve been? I thought something terrible had happened. Where are you? I even went to your family’s house, but the steward said you weren’t home. Tell me, what’s going on?”

Scovia’s lips curled in a bitter smile. What an actor you are, Reynolds. Do you think I don’t see through you now?

She had, after all, warned her attendants not to disturb her while she rested. She hadn’t expected Reynolds to barge into her family’s matters so quickly, but she should have known better. To him, she wasn’t a woman—she was a tool.

On the other side of the call, Reynolds grinned to himself. In just a moment, she’ll burst into tears and beg me for forgiveness. Poor little Scovia. Don’t worry, I won’t let you go yet. You’re still useful to me. Of course, I’ll play the part of a caring boyfriend. Once guilt eats her alive, she’ll be wrapped around my finger again.

He softened his tone deliberately. “Yes, Scovia… tell me if something is bothering you. I’ll do everything I can to help you. No matter what it is, I’m here for you.”

Scovia almost laughed at his shameless performance, but she bit it back. Instead, she spoke in a calm, almost tender voice. “Reynolds, I have something to tell you. Let’s meet at seven in the evening. The same place we always meet.”

Reynolds’ eyes lit up with triumph. It worked. She’s going to confess, I knew it. “Of course! I’ll be there at seven sharp. Don’t worry, Scovia. Whatever it is, I’ll support you.”

Scovia didn’t waste another second on his nonsense. She hung up.

Her hand trembled slightly as she lowered the phone. Then, her lips curved into a cold, mocking smile. How blind I was… not to see your filth. Reynolds, tonight, I’ll end this charade once and for all.

“Claire!” Scovia called.

Her maid appeared quickly. “Yes, Miss?”

“Pack everything. I mean everything that belongs to Mr. Cormen. I want it all sent back to him. I don’t want to owe him anything. It’s not appropriate to keep an ex’s gifts.”

Claire blinked in surprise. “All right, Miss. There isn’t much. Ten minutes should be enough.”

“Good. Also, tell Zed to prepare the car. I’m going to enjoy my last dinner with my ex-to-be.”

“Yes, Miss.” Claire bowed lightly before leaving to carry out the instructions.

When the door closed, Scovia whispered to herself, “Reynolds… let’s end this once and for all.”

By the time Reynolds arrived at the restaurant, he was brimming with confidence. He sat at the table with his phone in his hand, his imagination running wild. He pictured Scovia crying, begging, apologizing, and him smiling gently, pretending to forgive her. She’ll fall right into my trap, he thought, his grin stretching wider.

The soft sound of heels clicked against the marble floor. His head shot up.

There she was.

Scovia walked in, tall and graceful, her long dress hugging her slender figure. Her hair fell around her shoulders like silk, her expression calm yet untouchable. At that moment, she seemed almost regal.

Reynolds’ breath caught in his throat. His eyes roamed over her shamelessly before his lips curved into a smile. “Scovia, you’re finally here. I was afraid you’d stand me up again, like three days ago. By the way, what happened that night? I’m sure I saw you, but when I got to where you were sitting, you were already gone. I even asked the bartenders—they said you left with four men.”

He chuckled as if the thought was ridiculous. “Of course, they must have been mistaken. That’s not something you would ever do. Still, I worried so much.”

How cunning… Scovia thought as she slid into her seat. You deliberately brought up that night to make me feel guilty. You think you’ll push me into confessing. Do you really take me for such a fool?

Her lips twitched into a smirk, but Reynolds didn’t notice.

His eyes fell on the small boxes stacked neatly beside her. “By the way, what’s this? It’s not a special day, is it? If it is, I’m sorry—I didn’t bring you anything. And why do you look so cold tonight, Scovia? This isn’t like you.”

Scovia met his eyes without flinching. Her voice was calm, steady, and sharp. “Reynolds, let’s break up.”

The words hit him like a thunderclap. “What—wha… what did you say?” he stammered.

“I said, let’s end this relationship. To be honest, I don’t love you now, and I never did in the past. I only kept you because I didn’t want to feel lonely. But dragging this on is pointless. Lying to you has become sickening. So we should stop and go our separate ways.

“These boxes? They’re all the gifts you’ve given me over the years. I don’t want them. You can keep them, throw them away, whatever you want. I don’t care. The only exception is the house—it’s mine. Other than that, everything is yours.”

Reynolds slammed his hand on the table, his face twisting. “Scovia, you’re joking, right? You’re not serious?”

She tilted her head slightly, her calm smile like a dagger. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

“Don’t test my patience, Scovia. Take it back. Say you don’t mean it.”

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t you think I know what you did that night? Do you think I’m a fool? I know everything.” Then he forced a laugh. “You’re just scared to tell me the truth. Don’t worry, I’ll never leave you. I’ll forgive you. You’re just acting out, right? You’re mine, Scovia. Don’t push me.”

Scovia leaned back in her chair, a sneer playing on her lips.“Reynolds, call me whatever you want. But remember—I’m your girlfriend, not your wife. Second, do you have any evidence of that night? If not, then stop your nonsense before I sue you for slander. I’m done here.”

She stood up, her every movement graceful and deliberate, and turned to leave.

Reynolds’ face turned red with rage. He shot to his feet, his voice thundering across the restaurant. “Scovia! We’re not done! Get back here right now while I’m still being nice. Otherwise, you’ll regret it!”

Has he gone mad? Scovia thought bitterly. Does he think he’s my father? I must have been truly blind to ever love this man.

Without sparing him a single glance, she walked away, her head held high. Her back straight, her steps elegant. To everyone watching, she looked untouchable.

Reynolds’ fists clenched. His chest heaved with fury. He grabbed his phone and dialed a number. His voice was cold, sharp. “Our plan failed. Move to Plan B.”

He hung up, his jaw tight, his expression dark. “Scovia… don’t think you can get away from me so easily. I’ll make you suffer. And I’ll get what that old man left you. Just wait.”