THE CRIMSON CROWN: 👑

HIDDEN DESTINY.

THE NIGHT THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING🗨️

She died keeping a secret. Her daughter would live to break it..

Isabella Night had stopped checking the time because she was too busy checking the road behind her.

For the past twenty minutes, the same black car had been following her. It had stayed far enough away to look harmless, but every turn she made, it made too. Isabella sat quietly in the back seat, her fingers wrapped around her handbag, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling growing inside her. She didn't know who was following her or what they wanted, but she knew she needed to get home before anything happened.

"Can you take another route?" she finally asked the driver.

The driver looked at her through the mirror. "Is everything okay, Mrs. Night?"

"Just take another road." He nodded and turned at the next street. Isabella looked back.

The black car turned too. Her stomach tightened.

She picked up her phone and saw a message from home.

"Elara is still awake. She's waiting for you."

A soft smile appeared on Isabella's face. Her five-year-old daughter had probably been sitting near the window, waiting for her mother to come home. Isabella had promised Elara that they would have breakfast together the next morning. It was such a small promise, but suddenly it felt like the most important thing in the world.

"Please drive a little faster."

The driver pressed the accelerator. The black car followed. Isabella's smile disappeared.

"Don't stop," she said quietly.

"I won't."

She looked outside again. The rain was getting heavier, and the road ahead was almost empty. Her hand slowly moved toward her handbag. She touched the small crimson pendant hidden inside it, making sure it was still there.

It was.

She pulled her hand away.The car behind them suddenly moved into the other lane. Isabella's eyes widened.

"Wait..."

The headlights came straight toward them

The driver turned the steering wheel, but the wet road was too slippery. The tires lost control, the car spun, and a violent crash broke through the silence of the night.

Glass shattered...

Isabella was thrown against the side of the seat. Her handbag stayed tightly against her chest.

She held onto it with the last bit of strength she had.

Then everything went dark.

THE FLASHBACK🗨️

Before Isabella opened her eyes again, the night took her back to a place she had never wanted to remember.

A small room stood hidden somewhere far away from the city. The windows were covered, the lights were low, and the air smelled of smoke and burning herbs. An old magician sat on the other side of a wooden table while a stranger stood before him, their face hidden beneath the shadows.

"I want power," the stranger said.

The magician didn't react.

"I want the kind of power that can destroy anyone who stands in my way. I want to be able to ruin someone completely if I decide they deserve it."

The magician slowly looked up.

"Power like that always comes with a price."

"I'll pay it."

"You don't even know the price."

"I don't care."

For a moment, the magician studied the stranger before placing a small blade on the table.

"If you truly want it, then sacrifice something of yourself."

The stranger picked up the blade without hesitation and made a cut across their palm. A few drops of blood fell onto the strange symbol carved into the wooden table.

The candle flames suddenly rose.

The magician watched the blood disappear into the symbol.

"The sacrifice is accepted." The stranger looked at him.

"Give me the power." The magician shook his head.

"It will not come directly to you." The stranger's expression hardened.

"Then where will it go?"

"Someone close to you will receive it."A long silence followed.

"And how do I get it back?" The magician leaned forward.

"You find the person who receives it." His voice became quiet.

"And you take the power from them."

The stranger stared at him.

"Who will it be?"

The magician gave a faint smile.

"That is for fate to decide."

The candle went out. The room disappeared into darkness.

THE LAST GIFT🗨️

Isabella opened her eyes to the sound of a heart monitor.For a few seconds, she couldn't remember where she was. Then the pain returned, followed by the memory of the accident. She immediately tried to sit up.

"My daughter." A nurse rushed toward her.

"Please don't move." "My daughter... where is she?"

"She's safe. Your father is bringing her." Isabella closed her eyes in relief.

"Please let me see her." The nurse looked at the doctor before giving a small nod.

A little later, the door opened. Edward Night walked inside with Elara. The moment Elara saw her mother, she ran to the bed.

"Mommy!"

Isabella opened her arms, and Elara carefully climbed beside her.

"You scared me," Elara whispered.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart."

"You promised you'd come home."

"I know."

Isabella tried to smile. Elara looked at the bandages covering her mother.

"Does it hurt?"

"A little."

"Then you have to come home with me." Isabella's eyes filled with tears.

She wanted to say yes. Instead, she reached for her handbag.

Her fingers trembled as she opened it. The crimson pendant was still there.

She took it out and placed it in Elara's tiny hand.

Elara looked at it curiously.

"What's this?"

"Something very important."

"Is it mine?"

"It is now." Isabella closed Elara's fingers around it.

"But you have to promise me something."

"What?"

"Never show this to anyone." Elara frowned.

"Not even Daddy?" Isabella went silent.

Her eyes moved toward Edward. He understood immediately. "Not even him," she whispered.

Elara didn't understand why her mother suddenly looked so scared, but she nodded.

"I promise."

Isabella pulled her daughter closer.

"There are things about this world you don't understand yet." Elara rested her head against her mother's shoulder.

"When you grow up, you will."

Isabella kissed her forehead.

"And when you do, remember one thing. Never use what you have to hurt someone just because they hurt you."

"The great power comes with great responsibility " Elara looked up at her.

"What do I have?" Isabella smiled through her tears.

"One day, you'll know." The heart monitor suddenly changed. Edward stepped closer.

"Isabella..."

Doctors rushed into the room. Elara was pulled away from the bed.

"Mommy!"

Isabella looked at her daughter one last time. Her lips moved silently.

"I love you."

Elara cried as the doctors surrounded the bed. And that was the last time she ever heard her mother's voice.

THE DRAVEN HOUSE🗨️

Almost two in the morning, the front door of the Draven mansion opened.

Amelia Draven was still awake when she heard the sound. She walked into the hallway and froze. Victor stood near the entrance, soaked from the rain.

There were dark bloodstains on his shirt. Amelia's face turned pale.

"Victor..." He looked at her.

"What happened?"

"Nothing." She stepped closer.

"That's blood." Victor looked down at his sleeve. For a moment, he didn't say anything.

"Victor, where were you?" His expression changed.

"I don't want to talk about it." He walked upstairs. Amelia followed him with her eyes.

"Victor!" He stopped but didn't turn around.

"Please."

Still, he said nothing. He continued toward his room and closed the door behind him. Amelia remained standing alone in the hallway.

She had no idea where her husband had been that night. She had no idea whose blood was on his shirt.

And she had no idea that, from that night onward, the Draven and Night families would never look at each other the same way again.

TWENTY YEARS LATER🗨️

Twenty years had passed.

The little girl who had once cried beside her mother's hospital bed was now twenty-five years old.

Elara Night stood at the center of her office at Night Atelier, one of America's leading fashion companies. She had taken over the company at twenty-three and had already built a reputation for being smart, confident, and impossible to intimidate. She could silence an entire boardroom with one look, but the moment she left work, she was just as bubbly, playful, and annoyingly cheerful as ever.

"Your three o'clock meeting is waiting," Mia said, walking into the office with a file in her hand.

Elara didn't look up from her laptop.

"Tell them I'm not here."

Mia stopped.

"You're literally sitting in front of me."

"Then lie better." Mia sighed.

"One day, I'm going to quit."

"You say that every week."

"Because every week you give me a reason." Elara laughed and finally looked up.

"Fine. Send them in." Before Mia could move, Elara's phone buzzed.

She glanced at the screen. Her expression changed.

DRAVEN HOUSE ANNOUNCES ITS NEW COLLECTION..

Mia immediately noticed.

"Oh, no." Elara slowly put her phone down.

"What?"

"Don't tell me you're going to start another war with Roman Draven."A small smile appeared on Elara's lips.

"War?"

She stood and picked up her coat.

"I thought we were just competing." Mia stared at her.

"That's not what you call it after sending him three angry emails last month."

"He deserved all three."

Across the city, Roman Draven was standing inside his office at Draven House, the number-one fashion company in the country.

At thirty-one, Roman was everything Elara hated in a man—cold, arrogant, controlled, and far too confident.

His assistant, Oliver Hayes, walked into the office holding a tablet.

"Roman, Night Atelier has responded to our announcement." Roman looked up.

"What did Elara say?" Oliver smiled.

"Do you want the polite version or the one that will ruin your morning?" Roman leaned back in his chair.

"The real one." Oliver opened the message.

"She thinks Draven House is getting too comfortable at number one."

Roman's eyes narrowed slightly.

"And?"

Oliver looked at him.

"She says she's coming for your position." A slow smile appeared on Roman's face.

"Let her try."

Neither of them knew that this rivalry had started long before they ever met. Neither knew that their families were connected by a secret buried twenty years ago.

And neither knew that the woman Roman was preparing to fight would eventually become the one person capable of breaking through every wall he had built around his heart.

For now, though, Elara Night had only one thing on her mind.

Roman Draven was her enemy.

And she had no intention of letting him win.

__________________________________________

CHAPTER ONE

Summer, 2026

The private jet had barely touched the runway when Romen Draven unfastened his seat belt and looked through the window.

The sky was turning darker with every passing minute, and the warm summer air waited outside the aircraft, but all Romen could think about was how badly he wanted a hot shower and several hours of sleep. He had spent the last six days traveling for a major business deal, moving from one meeting to another without giving himself enough time to breathe.

The deal was finally closed, his work was done, and for once he had no reason to stay away from home. He should have gone straight to his family, but when his phone lit up with several missed calls, the tiredness in his eyes was replaced by a faint crease between his brows.

Most of the calls were from the office, but three were from his mother. Romen stared at her name for a moment before calling her back. She answered so quickly that he couldn't help smiling.

"Romen? Where are you? Are you still at the airport?"

Her voice carried the kind of warmth that could make him forget how exhausted he was. Romen leaned back against his seat and closed his eyes for a second.

"I'm still here, Mom. I just landed." Amelia immediately asked him to come home, reminding him that he had been gone for almost a week and that she had been waiting to have dinner with him.

Romen promised her he would come home that evening, but when she asked him to come directly from the airport, he hesitated.

"I'll come, Mom. I just need to stop at the office first."

She knew that tone. It was the same tone he used whenever work had already won an argument before she had even started it. She sighed, but there was a smile in her voice when she said,

"One day, I'm going to lock your office doors myself." Romen laughed softly.

"I'll see you tonight." He ended the call and stared at the screen for another moment, feeling a small sense of guilt for disappointing her yet again.

Romen Draven was thirty-one and the CEO of Draven House, the country's number-one luxury clothing company. He had taken over the company at twenty-seven and, in only a few years, had turned an already successful name into an international fashion empire. His face was familiar in business magazines, his name appeared regularly beside billion-dollar deals, and his reputation for being cold, demanding, and brutally honest had made people careful around him. Romen didn't care much about what people thought. He had learned early that success came with opinions, and he had no intention of wasting his time answering every one of them.

The car was waiting when he stepped out of the jet. His driver opened the door, but before Romen got inside, he glanced once toward the road that would take him home. His mother's voice was still somewhere in the back of his mind, asking him to come home. He almost changed his mind. Almost. Then he remembered the calls from the office and the unfinished work waiting for him.

"Take me to Draven House," he said quietly, and the driver nodded without asking questions.

Oliver Hayes was waiting for him at the private entrance of the company. The moment he saw Romen step out of the car, he looked him up and down and gave a slow shake of his head.

"Six days away, and you somehow look worse than when you left." Romen gave him a tired glance while taking the files Oliver was holding.

"Good to see you too." Oliver smiled and followed him inside.

"I would say I missed you, but then I'd be lying." Romen almost smiled, but the expression disappeared before it could fully form. Oliver noticed anyway. He always did.

He was Romen's secretary during office hours and his best friend everywhere else, which was probably the reason he was still alive after saying things that no other employee would dare say. Still, the moment they entered the executive floor, Oliver straightened his posture and returned to his professional voice.

"Sir, the contracts from Milan are ready, the investors moved the meeting to tomorrow morning, and your father called twice." Romen stopped walking.

"My father?" Oliver nodded.

"He didn't say why." Something in Romen's expression changed. It was small, but Oliver knew him well enough to notice.

"Did he sound angry?" Oliver thought for a second.

"Not exactly." Romen waited. Oliver lowered his voice. "He sounded... worried."

Romen didn't answer. He walked into his office and placed the files on the desk, but his attention was no longer on the paperwork. His father's calls were unusual enough, but the word worried stayed in his mind. Victor Draven wasn't a man who worried easily. He was calm under pressure, experienced enough to handle a crisis without letting it show, and usually the person everyone else depended on when things went wrong. Romen picked up his phone and called him before he could overthink it.

Victor answered after the second ring.

"Where are you?" His voice was sharper than usual, and Romen immediately noticed it.

"At the office." There was a short silence.

"You came back today?" Victor asked.

"Yes. I finished the deal earlier than expected." Romen loosened his tie and sat behind his desk, watching the evening light fall across the room.

"I thought you'd be happy to have me back." Victor didn't laugh. Instead, he asked why Romen hadn't told him about changing his flight. Romen's patience began to wear thin.

"Dad, I didn't think I needed permission to change a flight." Victor went quiet again, and this time Roman sat straighter. There was something wrong.

"What is it?" he asked, his voice softer.

"Nothing." Romen frowned.

"You're a terrible liar." For a moment, neither of them spoke. Finally, Victor exhaled and told him to come home after the evening's event. Romen agreed, but before he could ask anything else, Victor ended the call.

Romen kept the phone against his ear for another second before slowly lowering it. His eyes remained fixed on the dark screen, and the uneasy feeling in his chest refused to disappear.

He couldn't explain it, but his father's voice had reminded him of something he couldn't quite place. It wasn't anger. It wasn't even concern. There had been hesitation in it, as if Victor had almost said something and then changed his mind. Romen hated unanswered questions, especially when they involved his family.

At home, Amelia was standing near the living room window when Victor entered. She watched him place his phone on the table and walk past her without saying anything.

"That was Romen, wasn't it?" she asked. Victor stopped for a moment before nodding.

"He's coming home later." Amelia smiled, relieved.

"Good. I haven't seen him properly since he left." Victor didn't respond. Instead, he walked toward the window and stood there with his hands behind his back.

Amelia studied him quietly. She had known her husband for more than three decades, and she knew every small habit he had when something was troubling him. Tonight, he kept rubbing his thumb against the edge of his watch and glancing toward the front door as if he were expecting someone.

"Victor," she said gently, walking closer.

"What's wrong?" He turned toward her and forced a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Nothing." Amelia didn't believe him. She reached for his hand, and the moment her fingers touched his, she felt a slight tremor. Her expression changed.

"Your hands are shaking." Victor

immediately pulled his hand back, almost too quickly.

"I'm tired." Amelia stared at him for several seconds before asking,

"Is this about Romen?" Victor looked away.

"No." His answer came too fast. She knew there was more to it, but she also knew pushing him now would only make him shut down completely. Instead, she whispered,

"Whatever you're carrying, you don't have to carry it alone." Victor looked at her, and for a brief moment something vulnerable appeared in his eyes. Then it disappeared.

"I know." He walked toward his study, leaving Amelia alone in the living room with a question she had been carrying for years.

She watched the door close behind him and slowly sat down. There were moments when she felt as though her husband was still searching for something that had disappeared from their lives long ago. Twenty years had passed, yet every now and then, the same restless look returned to his face. Amelia had never understood what he was looking for. She only knew that whenever the past came too close, Victor became a different man.

THE Beaumont EVENING

The celebration was already crowded when Elara Night arrived with her friend.

Soft music filled the elegant hall while waiters moved between guests, and the warm summer evening outside had left a faint glow across the tall glass windows. Elara stepped inside, looked around once, and quietly said,

"I knew I shouldn't have come." Her friend Ava laughed and reminded her that she had been saying the same thing since they left the house. Elara smiled and adjusted the bracelet around her wrist.

"Because I was right."

She had never been fond of crowded social events, especially the kind where every conversation somehow turned into business. As the CEO of Night Atelier, the country's number-two luxury clothing company, she attended enough formal events to know exactly how exhausting they could be.

Elara was only twenty-five, but she had been running Night Atelier since she was twenty-three. She had inherited more than a company; she had inherited expectations. People had expected her to fail because of her age, and she had spent the last two years making sure they regretted doubting her. She was confident, intelligent,

beautiful, and completely comfortable in her own skin. But there was a softer, more playful side to her that rarely appeared in front of cameras. Around people she trusted, Elara could be ridiculous, loud, teasing, and so easily amused that her serious CEO image disappeared within minutes.

Ava leaned closer and whispered,

"You know who's going to be here, right?"

Elara immediately knew who she meant. Her smile faded for half a second before she recovered.

"Don't say his name." Ava laughed.

"Romen." Elara gave her an annoyed look.

"I said don't say it." "You really hate him, don't you?"

Elara looked across the room, and her eyes landed on the man she had spent the last two years competing against. Romen stood near the other guests, looking every bit as serious and intimidating as the magazines described him. Elara watched him for a moment before quietly saying,

"I don't hate him." Her friend raised an eyebrow.

"Then?" Elara looked away.

"I just don't like him." The answer sounded convincing enough to her, but the small flutter she felt in her stomach when Romen turned his head in her direction was something she preferred not to think about.

Romen had arrived with Oliver and his younger brother, Lucas. Lucas was twenty-five, cheerful, naturally funny, and almost annoyingly positive. He had none of his brother's intimidating seriousness, and he seemed to enjoy teasing Romen more than anyone else.

The moment Lucas noticed Elara, he leaned toward Oliver and quietly said something that made Oliver smile. Romen looked at them with suspicion.

"What?" he asked. Lucas tried to keep a straight face.

"Nothing." Oliver immediately looked away, but the smile on his face betrayed him. Romen's eyes narrowed.

"You're both terrible liars." Lucas laughed and glanced toward Elara again.

"I was just thinking tonight might actually be interesting."

Romen followed his gaze, and the moment his eyes found Elara, his expression changed almost imperceptibly.

He had seen her countless times before. Across conference tables. At business meetings. At fashion events where their companies fought for the same contracts. He knew she was stubborn, ambitious, and far too confident for his liking.

But tonight, seeing her laughing with her friend, relaxed and completely unaware of how many people were watching her, made something unfamiliar settle in his chest. He couldn't decide whether it was curiosity or irritation. Either way, he found himself looking at her longer than he intended.

Elara noticed.

Their eyes met across the room. For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then Elara gave him a small, almost challenging smile before turning back toward Ava.

Romen's mouth curved slightly. Lucas saw it. He immediately leaned closer to Oliver.

"Did you see that?" Oliver nodded.

"Should we tell him?"

"Absolutely not."

Romen glanced at them.

"I can still hear you."

Lucas smiled innocently.

"That's unfortunate."

Oliver lowered his head to hide his laugh.

Romen shook his head, but there was a trace of amusement in his expression now. He didn't know that within the next few minutes, the woman he had spent years treating as his biggest rival would become the one person in the room he couldn't seem to ignore.

And Elara had no idea that the man she had spent years resenting was about to become the biggest complication in her carefully controlled life.

She walked toward him with her friend beside her, trying to convince herself that her heartbeat was completely normal.

It wasn't.

And neither of them knew that somewhere beyond the bright lights of the celebration, someone was watching them both.

Someone who had been waiting for this night.

Someone who knew that once Romen Draven and Elara Night crossed paths in the right place at the right time, the past would no longer stay buried.

But for now, neither Romen nor Elara knew what was coming.

They only knew one thing.

They had met before.

Tonight, something felt different.

To be continued...

CHAPTER TWO

The celebration had become livelier as the night went on.

The soft music from earlier had been replaced by something more energetic, people had loosened their ties and heels, and the quiet conversations between businessmen had slowly turned into laughter and gossip.

Elara had never been a heavy drinker, especially not at public events, but tonight she had somehow lost count of how many glasses she had accepted.

Maybe it was because she had been tired, maybe because she wanted to forget the strange feeling that had followed her all evening, or maybe she simply hadn't realized how strong the drinks were. Whatever the reason, the confident woman who could usually walk into any room with complete control was beginning to feel the floor move slightly beneath her feet.

Ava Collins noticed it before anyone else did. At twenty-six, Ava had known Elara long enough to recognize every version of her, including the one who insisted she was perfectly fine when she clearly wasn't. Ava was standing beside her, talking to another guest, when she glanced over and noticed Elara staring at her empty glass with a suspiciously thoughtful expression.

"Elara," she called, trying not to laugh,

"how many of those have you had?" Elara looked at her with exaggerated seriousness.

"I have no idea." Ava blinked.

"That's not a good answer." Elara smiled and leaned slightly against the table.

"I'm fine." Ava immediately shook her head.

"No. You're doing that thing where you say you're fine because you don't want me to take your drink away."

Elara looked down at the glass in her hand and then back at Ava.

"You know me too well." Ava gently took the glass from her.

"Exactly. Which is why you're done."

Elara laughed and reached for the glass again, but Ava moved it out of her reach.

"Give it back." "Absolutely not.

" "Ava."

"Elara." They stared at each other for a few seconds before Elara finally laughed.

"You're annoying." Ava smiled proudly.

"And yet, you keep me around." Elara shook her head, but before she could answer,

Ava's attention was caught by someone approaching them. She turned toward the man and immediately recognized him as one of the older businessmen attending the celebration. He was around sixty, dressed in an expensive suit, and had clearly been drinking for quite some time. There was something unpleasantly confident in the way he looked at Elara, something that made Ava's smile disappear.

"Miss Night," the man said, stepping closer.

"I've been wanting to speak with you."

Elara looked at him, trying to focus on his face.

"About business?"

The man laughed. "Not everything has to be about business."

Ava stepped slightly closer to Elara. The man ignored her and continued,

"You're even more beautiful in person. I was beginning to think the magazines were exaggerating."

Elara gave him a polite but uncomfortable smile.

"Thank you, but I think I'll go find my friend."

She tried to step away, but the man moved with her.

"There's no need to rush. We could have a drink together somewhere quieter."

Elara's expression hardened. "I'm not interested."

The man smiled as though her refusal amused him. "You're young. You shouldn't be so serious all the time."

Ava immediately stepped between them.

"She said she's not interested."

The man's eyes moved toward Ava, and his smile disappeared for a moment.

"I wasn't speaking to you."

"That's fine," Ava replied calmly. "But I'm speaking to you."

Elara touched Ava's arm, trying to stop the situation from becoming bigger than it already was.

"Ava, it's okay. Let's just go."

The man stepped closer again. "You don't have to leave because of me."

Elara looked directly into his eyes this time. Whatever alcohol had done to her balance, it hadn't taken away her ability to recognize when someone was crossing a line.

"I said no."

For a moment, the man's expression darkened. Then he smiled again.

"Of course."

He stepped back, but the way he looked at her made Elara uncomfortable. Ava waited until he walked away before turning toward her.

"Are you okay?"

Elara nodded, although her smile was no longer convincing. "Yes."

Ava studied her face. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

Ava sighed. "Then we're getting you some water."

"I don't need water."

"You absolutely need water."

Elara rolled her eyes. "You're acting like my mother."

Ava smiled softly. "Someone has to."

Elara laughed, but before they could leave, a group of guests approached Ava and pulled her into a conversation. Ava looked back at Elara and pointed toward the table.

"Stay here. I'll be back in two minutes."

Elara nodded.

"Two minutes."

"Exactly."

Ava disappeared into the crowd.

Elara stood alone for a moment, feeling the warmth of the room becoming slightly overwhelming. She touched her forehead and took a slow breath.

That was when the older man returned.

"You shouldn't be standing alone," he said.

Elara looked at him and frowned.

"I can take care of myself."

"I'm sure you can." He smiled. "But you don't look well."

"I'm fine."

"There's a private lounge upstairs. You can sit there for a while."

Elara hesitated.

"No. I'll wait for Ava."

"Your friend is busy."

Elara glanced toward the crowd. She couldn't see Ava. The man lowered his voice.

"It will only take a minute. You can rest, and then I'll bring you back."

Elara wasn't thinking clearly enough to question him properly. She rubbed her temple and finally nodded.

"Fine. Just for a minute."

The man smiled.

"Of course."

Romen had been standing near the other side of the ballroom when he noticed Oliver talking to one of the event organizers. He had already decided he wanted to leave. His mother's promise of dinner was still somewhere in the back of his mind, and after the long day he'd had, the last thing he wanted was another hour of small talk.

Lucas walked up beside him.

"You're leaving?"

"Yes."

Lucas looked toward the ballroom.

"Without saying goodbye to anyone?"

"I don't care."

"You don't care about anyone."

Romen gave him a flat look.

Lucas smiled. "Except Mom."

"Obviously."

"And maybe..."

"Don't."

Lucas laughed. "I didn't even finish."

"You didn't need to."

Romen turned toward the hallway, intending to use the restroom before leaving. He had barely taken a few steps when he noticed someone coming out of a private corridor.

It was the same older businessman from earlier.

Romen didn't think much of it.

Not until he heard a woman's voice from behind the closed door.

"Please, just let me go."

He stopped.

Something about the voice sounded familiar.

Romen turned his head.

The voice came again, more frightened this time.

"Stop. I said no."

His entire expression changed.

He knew that voice.

"Elara?"

Without thinking, Romen pushed the door open. The sight in front of him made his blood run cold.

Elara was backed against the wall, clearly frightened and trying to push the man away. The moment Romen saw her face, every trace of exhaustion disappeared.

The man turned around sharply.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Romen didn't answer immediately.

He looked at Elara.

"Are you okay?"

She shook her head slightly, too shaken to speak. Romen's jaw tightened. He looked back at the man.

"Move away from her."

The man scoffed. "This is none of your business."

Romen took one step forward.

"It became my business the moment she told you to stop."

"She came here willingly."

Romen's eyes became colder.

"She told you no."

The man tried to laugh it off. "You're misunderstanding the situation."

"No," Romen said quietly. "I'm not."

The man took a step toward him. Romen didn't move. For a second, the two men simply stared at each other. Then the man tried to push past him.

Romen grabbed his arm.

"Don't."

The man's expression changed. Romen's voice dropped lower.

"You should have walked away when she asked you to."

The argument turned physical within seconds. Romen shoved him back, and when the man tried to strike him, Romen blocked the blow and hit him hard enough to send him stumbling against the wall. The man tried to recover, but Romen grabbed the front of his jacket and slammed him back again.

"Romen!"

Elara's voice stopped him.

He froze.

His breathing was heavy, his hands were clenched, and anger was still burning in his eyes.

Then he looked at Elara.

She was trembling.

The anger immediately shifted into concern.

Romen released the man and walked toward her.

"Elara, look at me."

She slowly raised her eyes.

"Are you hurt?"

She shook her head.

"No."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded, but her eyes were still unfocused.

Romen took off his jacket and gently placed it around her shoulders.

"Come on."

She looked at him.

"Where?"

"I'm taking you home."

This time, she didn't argue.

A few minutes later, Oliver found them near the private entrance. He took one look at Romen's bruised knuckles and then at Elara wrapped in his jacket.

His usual joking expression disappeared.

"What happened?"

Romen looked at him.

"Take care of the man upstairs. Make sure the hotel security handles it properly."

Oliver nodded immediately.

"Of course."

He looked toward Elara, then back at Romen.

"Do you want me to call Ava?"

Romen nodded.

"Tell her Elara is with me and I'm taking her home."

Oliver hesitated.

"Romen..."

Romen looked at him.

Oliver lowered his voice. "Be careful."

Romen understood what he meant. He nodded once.

"I will."

The drive was quiet. Elara sat beside Romen in the back seat, his jacket still around her. She stared through the window for several minutes, watching the lights outside blur together. Her head felt heavy, and every time she tried to remember exactly what had happened upstairs, her thoughts became confused.

Romen noticed her fingers trembling slightly.

"Are you cold?"

She shook her head.

"No."

"Then why are you shaking?"

She looked at her hands.

"I don't know."

Romen reached for the bottle of water beside him and handed it to her.

"Drink."

Elara looked at the bottle and then at him.

"You always order people around?"

"Usually."

She smiled faintly.

"That sounds exhausting."

Romen couldn't help smiling.

"You have no idea."

She took a small sip and rested her head against the seat.

After a few minutes, she looked at him again.

"Why did you help me?"

Romen frowned slightly.

"What kind of question is that?"

"A real one."

He looked at her for a moment before answering.

"Because you needed help."

Elara studied his face.

"You hate me."

"I don't."

"You do." Romen sighed.

"Elara, you're drunk." She smiled.

"That doesn't mean I'm wrong." He looked away.

For some reason, he didn't know how to answer her. She watched him quietly for several seconds.

Then she whispered, "Thank you." Romen looked back at her.

"You're welcome."

The car continued through the quiet streets.

Elara was quiet for a while, her head resting against the seat as the lights outside slipped across the car window. Romen glanced at her from time to time, making sure she was alright. He had expected her to fall asleep, but suddenly she turned her face toward him.

"Romen?"

He looked at her. "Hmm?"

She stared at him for a few seconds without saying anything. Her eyes were slightly unfocused from the alcohol, but there was something almost thoughtful in the way she was looking at him. Romen raised an eyebrow, unsure what was going through her mind.

"What?"

Elara's lips curved into a small smile. "You're not as bad as I thought."

Romen let out a quiet breath that sounded almost like a laugh. "You're drunk."

"I know."

"Then stop judging my personality tonight."

"I'm not judging you." She paused, her eyes dropping briefly to his lips before returning to his eyes.

"I'm trying to understand you."

Romen's smile faded a little. Something about the way she was looking at him suddenly made him sit straighter. He didn't know why his heartbeat had picked up, or why the small space between them suddenly felt much smaller than it actually was.

"Elara," he said quietly, "you should sleep."She didn't move.

Instead, she leaned a little closer. Romen stayed completely still.

For one second, he thought she was simply trying to hear him better, but then she stopped only inches away from him. He could feel her warm breath against his face, and for the first time that night, the man who always seemed to have an answer for everything had absolutely no idea what to say.

Elara looked into his eyes.

There was a strange silence between them.

Neither moved.

Neither spoke.

Romen's gaze dropped to her lips for the briefest moment before he immediately looked back into her eyes, almost as if he had caught himself doing something he shouldn't.

"Elara..." His voice came out quieter than he intended. She smiled.

"I know."

And before he could figure out what she meant, she closed the remaining distance between them.

Her lips touched his softly.

It was only a brief kiss, almost hesitant at first, as if even she wasn't completely sure what she was doing. Romen froze the moment he felt it. His hand, which had been resting beside him, tightened against the seat, and for a few seconds he simply stared ahead, unable to process what had just happened.

Then Elara slowly pulled away.

She didn't immediately look at him.

Instead, she lowered her eyes, a faint smile still playing on her lips, and whispered, "See? You're not that scary."

Romen turned toward her, completely speechless.

"Did you just—"

Elara rested her head against his shoulder before he could finish.

"I think I'm sleepy."

Romen stared at her in disbelief.

He could feel his heart beating far too fast, and somehow that irritated him more than the kiss itself.

He looked down at her peaceful expression and quietly shook his head.

"You're going to regret this tomorrow."

Elara didn't answer.

She was already drifting to sleep.

Romen leaned back against the seat, still trying to understand why one innocent kiss from the woman he had spent two years fighting with had managed to completely destroy his composure.

For the first time in a very long time, Romen Draven had no idea what his next move was.

To be continued...