Seven Years Later

 A royal-blue Rolls-Royce Phantom screeched to a halt outside Luxe Haven.

 The man in the back seat spoke up, his voice low and edged with irritation.

 "Luxe Haven? You brought me to a club?"

 His driver shifted nervously in the front seat. "Apologies, sir. The hotel I booked fell through at the last minute. This... was all I could get," he stuttered.

 Dante didn't reply. One icy glance was enough to make the man wish he'd found a room in another city entirely. The driver scrambled out, opening the door with a mumble, "Right this way, boss."

 Dante stepped out elegantly, his sharp gaze sweeping over the area. He wore a charcoal tailored suit that hugged his frame, the cut exuding quiet luxury. His diamond cufflinks caught the dim light, glittering in a way that left no doubt about their authenticity.

 One glance at him was enough to tell anyone that the man could afford a weekend getaway in a foreign country without a second thought. He tucked his hands casually into his pockets, the subtle raise of his sleeves revealing the platinum watch resting against his wrist.

 He strode into the building with smooth confidence, his driver trailing behind with the luggage. Inside, the faint thud of bass-heavy music reached his ears, drawing a faint sneer.

 He hated noise.

 He hated chaos.

 He scrunched his face at the muffled beat echoing from the club floors.

 The elevator was just ahead when a figure stumbled into view, a girl swaying on her heels, clutching a half-empty wine bottle. Before he could sidestep, the bottle slipped from her grasp, shattering at his feet and splattering across his suit trousers.

 Her head lifted, a tipsy smile spreading across her lips. "You're so handsome," she slurred, biting her lower lip with clumsy seduction.

 Before she could throw herself into his arms, Dante caught her wrists and shoved her aside, not with enough force to hurt her, but enough to send her sprawling.

 "Watch it," he said coldly.

 He despised any form of physical contact, especially from strangers.

 The driver muttered a curse, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to dab at Dante's shoes. His glare toward the girl was sharp enough to cut glass. She was dressed in what could barely pass as clothing a skimpy scrap of fabric that left little to the imagination.

 "Get lost, bitch," he spat, before leading the way toward the elevator.

 Neither of them spoke again until the elevator door closed, swallowing the muffled chaos of the club.

 "My sincerest apologies, boss," the driver said quickly. "The whole place will be cleaned first thing tomorrow."

 Dante's expression eased only slightly, and just then, the elevator chimed, announcing their arrival on the fifth floor. The driver set down his luggage and excused himself.

 The first thing Dante did was shrug out of his suit jacket and toss it straight into the waste bin. He removed his watch with precise movements before heading into the en-suite bathroom to freshen up.

 By the time he emerged, a towel hung low around his waist. Droplets from his jet-black hair slid down his toned abs and across his shoulders as he ran a hand through it.

 He froze.

 A woman lay sprawled across his bed, barely covered by sheer lingerie, her body shifting as she groaned softly.

 "How did you get in?" Dante demanded, fury tightening his voice. Realizing he hadn't locked the door earlier, he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Who are you?" he asked, squinting at the masked figure.

 Ashley didn't answer or even look at him. Her eyes remained half-lidded, her hands fumbling at her own chest in a disoriented manner.

 Dante's patience snapped. After a fifteen-hour flight, the last thing he wanted was to deal with whatever mess this was.

 He stepped forward to grab her and drag her out, but her mask slipped away.

 His hands froze.

 "Ashley?" he breathed, the name tasting both sweet and bitter on his tongue.

 The face he hadn't seen in over a decade. The woman who had once stood beside him at an altar, wearing his ring, promising forever.

 His ex-wife.

 His mistake.

 His everything.

 But she didn't seem to recognize him. Her gaze was unfocused, her movements clumsy. It was clear she wasn't acting of her own free will.

 He crouched beside her, and before he could say another word, she surged forward, pressing herself against him. "Touch me," she whispered, her lips brushing his ear as her breasts pressed against his chest.

 He tried to pull away, but she clung tighter, a whimper escaping her. "Do something... please," she pleaded, her voice breaking.

 Dante pried her off, his jaw clenched. Her cheeks were flushed, and when her eyes blinked open, they still looked hazy and unfocused.

 She giggled, biting her lip as she reached for his bare chest, her fingers tracing over his skin. "What are these?" she murmured playfully.

 He eased her back onto the bed, adjusting the pillow beneath her head. But she hooked her arms around his neck, pulling him down again.

 "Kiss me," she breathed, her lips pouting.

 He scoffed and pushed her away. Her touch was already affecting him, and he hated it. The tension in his lower body made him curse under his breath. He turned toward the bathroom, determined to take a cold shower before his restraint gave way.

 Only he knew how long it had been since he'd let himself lose control like this.

 "Hey!" Ashley sat up suddenly, wrapping her arms around him from behind. Her breasts pressed firmly against his back.

 This time, his resolve snapped.

 With a growl, Dante turned and pushed her onto the bed, holding her down. His hands moved over her with the urgency of someone deprived for too long, tearing the thin lingerie as his control slipped away.

Ashley woke up to find herself in an unfamiliar room. Her body ached as she struggled to sit up in bed. She looked around, confusion etched on her face, until her eyes landed on the shredded pieces of lingerie she had worn the night before.

 She gasped as realization dawned. She quickly glanced under the duvet-there was no need for anyone to tell her what had happened. Ashley smacked her forehead repeatedly, blaming herself for drinking until she passed out.

 "What do I put on?" she said, her face pale with panic, as she managed to rise to her feet. Her gaze searched the room and settled on a long-sleeve shirt on the couch.

 Putting it on, she prepared to leave the room when someone finally emerged from the bathroom. She could hear footsteps behind her, causing her to freeze in place.

 As she remembered how the person had taken advantage of her drunken state and had a one-night stand with her without her consent, she clenched her fists tightly until her knuckles turned white.

 With these thoughts in mind, she decided to give him a piece of her mind before leaving.

 She turned around to face her mysterious one-night-stand partner. Her eyes widened as she stared at Dante, her ex-husband, with whom she had lost contact years ago.

 "D... Dante!" she stammered, like a thief caught in the act.

 "Oh my goodness," she said, covering her mouth with her palm. "You're the man I..." she trailed off, shaking her head in disbelief.

 Ashley was about to run out of the room when Dante grabbed her by the arm. "At least put on something decent," he said, handing her his pants and T-shirt.

 Dante respectfully turned away as she quickly dressed in his clothes. Ashley then ran out of the room before he could even react.

 He stood by the door, confused as ever, when his phone began to ring. The driver informed him that the house had been cleaned and that he was on his way to pick him up.

 Shortly after, he heard a knock at the door. The driver packed up his belongings and placed them in the trunk of the car.

 As Dante got into the backseat, he picked up a tablet beside him, running his long fingers over the screen. A few minutes later, his phone chimed, and Ashley's basic information appeared on the screen:

 Name: Ashley Kingsley

 First Child of: Mr. and Mrs. Kingsley

 Sibling: Tristan Kingsley

 Age: 27

 Gender: Female

 Occupation: General Manager at Brighton Groups

 Educational Status: B.A. in Business Administration

 Hobbies: Painting, jogging, podcasts

 Languages Spoken: English

 Fiancé: Jude Lane

 Notable Achievements: Led a campaign that increased her company's online presence by 70% in under six months.

 He read through the information with an unreadable expression and then closed the tab. He looked out the window as the gate automatically opened, the car driving straight into Evermoore Estate.

 As he looked around the premises, he noticed that nothing much had changed since he flew abroad. The car passed through the tree-lined driveway and finally came to a halt.

 He stepped out of the vehicle and walked into the living area. Dante took the elevator, eager to check on his father's condition so he could leave immediately. When he reached the door, he knocked gently before entering.

 His father lay on the bed under a duvet, with his mother sitting beside him.

 "Mom. Dad," Dante called softly.

 They turned toward him, joy lighting up their faces. Mrs. Montclair sprang up and wrapped him in a warm hug. "My son, you're here," she said, her voice emotional.

 His father attempted to sit up, but she gently urged him to lie still. "You're still recovering, honey."

 "I'm glad you came back," Mr. Montclair said sincerely. "It means a lot to me."

 "How are you feeling now?" Dante asked, awkward under the warmth of his parents' attention. He had left home as a young adult seven years ago.

 "Seeing you here is healing in itself," Mr. Montclair replied, patting the bed beside him.

 "My assistant will bring you up to speed," he added with a sigh.

 Dante nodded and glanced at his watch. "I'll come back after I settle in," he said, heading out.

 His parents watched him leave with quiet admiration, proud of the man he had become.

 ⸻

 Meanwhile, Ashley sat in her office, her mind trailing back to the incident with Dante earlier. Her hand froze mid-air when Simon walked up to her, snapping his fingers in front of her.

 She jolted out of her thoughts, a fake smile forming on her face as Simon spoke up.

 "What's on your mind?" he asked softly, and Ashley shook her head. "It's nothing, just so much to plan for the wedding," she said, trying to divert her attention.

 "You have time, Ash," Simon said with a light chuckle before walking off.

 Just then, she heard a knock on the door to her office. Her PA walked in. "Ma'am, someone is outside to see you," she announced before taking her leave.

 This left Ashley puzzled, wondering if maybe it was Jude who had stopped by the company to see her. Eager to find out, she got up, closed her office, and walked out-only to find Dante leaning against his car, legs crossed casually.

 Her smile faltered, confusion flickering in her eyes. Why was he here?

 "Why are you here?" Ashley finally spoke up, her voice cautious as she watched him size her up.

 "I was just curious about what happened last night," Dante replied, his tone calm. "So I came to get some answers. Don't you think I deserve to know why you were in my room?"

 "Can we just forget about last night? Pretend it never happened," Ashley said, her voice cold and formal, as if she were speaking to a stranger. "I have a fiancé, and he wouldn't be pleased to know."

 Dante just stood there, silent, studying her. Ashley let out a deep sigh, turning to walk away. But her phone suddenly rang. As she reached to answer, her face went pale.

 She screamed and dropped the phone.

 "Tristan's been shot!"

Dante grabbed Ashley's wrist just as she tried to hail a cab outside the company.

 "You're not going alone," he said firmly, his grip unyielding.

 "I can handle this, Dante. Let go," Ashley snapped, her voice trembling with panic.

 "You're in no state to drive or think straight," he countered, pulling her toward his car. "Get in. I'll take you."

 She opened her mouth to argue, but one look at the intensity in his eyes silenced her. Her chest heaved with conflicted breaths before she finally yanked her wrist free, muttering, "Fine." She climbed into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut.

 Dante didn't waste another second. He slid behind the wheel, slammed his foot on the accelerator, and the car sped into the night.

 He glanced at Ashley sitting beside him in the passenger seat. Her eyes were tightly shut, her hands trembling with fear. Heart pounding, he pressed harder on the accelerator, silently praying that nothing would happen to Ashley's brother.

 Suddenly, the car screeched to a halt. Ashley jolted forward, then quickly leapt out, rushing into the hospital in search of her brother.

 "Tristan! Tristan! Where is my brother?" she cried out, tears streaming down her face.

 The nurse at the reception desk blinked in confusion. "Who?" she asked, puzzled.

 Dante sighed and gently placed a hand on Ashley's shoulder, trying to calm her.

 "The young man who was brought in tonight," he explained softly.

 The nurse nodded. "He was taken to the emergency room."

 "Thank you," Dante said quietly, nodding in appreciation.

 Ashley's eyes filled with desperation as she looked toward the emergency corridor. "I need to see him," she whispered, her voice trembling with fear and grief.

 For a moment, Dante's arms twitched at his sides. He wanted to pull her close, to offer her the comfort she so clearly craved. But halfway into the motion, he stopped himself, curling his hands into fists instead. His jaw tightened, and all he could do was watch her crumble.

 "Nothing must happen to my little brother. If anything happens to him... I don't know what I'll do," she muttered through her tears, collapsing to the ground in despair.

 Moments later, the doctor emerged from the operating room, his face serious as he approached them.

 "When the patient was brought in, he had already lost a significant amount of blood. We managed to take out the bullet and stop the bleeding after administering a transfusion," he explained calmly, then turned and left.

 Ashley clung to Dante, her body trembling as she tried to suppress her panic. All she could do now was wait and pray for her brother's recovery.

 Dante eventually left after Ashley persuaded him. Her brother had been moved to a regular ward, although he remained unconscious. She was busy wiping him with a towel when a nurse approached her.

 "The doctor said to ask when you'll be settling the bills. We aren't supposed to administer any treatment without payment, but the young man's condition forced us to act," the nurse explained.

 Ashley forced out a smile as she glanced over at her pale-looking brother sleeping peacefully on the bed.

 "I'll make the payment first thing tomorrow," she said softly.

 The nurse nodded and walked away, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She quickly checked her balance and realized she was low on cash.

 She had exhausted her money paying her father's debts and saving up for her upcoming wedding. Tomorrow was the deadline to pay her brother's hospital bills.

 Ashley was left in a tight position, knowing she had already maxed out her company's loan limit, which meant she had to pay off all her debts before she could be eligible for a new one.

 This left her torn between two decisions. She had no other choice but to pay Jude a visit and borrow some of the money they had been saving up for a house.

 She couldn't help but wonder what she was going to do if something happened to Tristan.

 Frustration bubbled up inside her, and she broke down into another round of tears. She picked up her bag and left the hospital. Her phone began to vibrate. She pulled it out-it was her best friend, Simon.

 "Where are you, Ash? Did you go back to Jude's place?"

 Ashley sniffled. "Tristan got shot, Simon. I'm just leaving the hospital to go look for help."

 Simon sounded like he'd been struck by lightning.

 "Tristan was shot? What?! Where? How?"

 "I'll talk to you as soon as I can, okay?"

 "Take care of yourself, Ash. Call me the moment you need me," Simon said before the call ended.

 As the car drove away, leaving her in front of the building Jude was renting, Ashley walked inside and climbed the stairs with measured steps.

 At his door, she noticed it was slightly ajar.

 "You like it like this," a husky voice said from inside, followed by loud slapping sounds and moans echoing through the hallway.

 Her expression hardened. She had come to Jude, her fiancé, to collect the money they had been saving for a house after their upcoming wedding. Instead, she had walked straight into the truth.

 With one push, the door slammed open.

 "F*ck!" Jude exclaimed, scrambling off the bed, guilt flooding his face.

 Meanwhile, the blonde woman in his bed, whom Ashley instantly recognized as her friend and colleague Penelope, looked completely unfazed. In fact, she glared at Ashley, annoyed that her fun had been interrupted.

 Jude stepped forward. "I... I can explain, baby."

 "Don't come closer." Ashley's voice was low, cold. Her gaze burned through him until he stopped mid-step.

 Without another glance at either of them, she walked straight to the drawer, pulled out his ATM card, and slipped it into her bag.

 "Don't waste my time with lies," she said evenly. "I'm not here for excuses. I came for what's mine."

 She turned slightly toward them, her eyes like sharpened glass. "You two deserve each other and the mess you'll choke on."

 Penelope scoffed and held up her phone, displaying a lingerie photo of Ashley. "Why pretend to be a saint, Ash?"

 A faint smirk tugged at Ashley's lips. "If you think that's your trump card, you're more pathetic than I thought." She stepped forward and delivered a sharp slap across Penelope's face, not in rage, but deliberate and controlled.

 "You're a disgrace, not because of me, but because you sold yourself for scraps."

 Jude let out a mocking scoff. "Penelope told me everything. You're a pretender, too pure for me, yet a cheap harlot on the side." He laughed coldly. "That card's empty. Let's see you try."

 Ashley met his gaze without flinching. "Then I'll make it work. That's what people like you never understand. I don't need you to survive."

 And with that, she walked out, her steps slow and steady.

 She didn't look back. Not once.

 In the elevator, she stood tall, her breathing even. Outside, the cool evening breeze brushed against her skin. Only then did she let her eyes narrow, the sharp ache in her chest swallowed down.

 Tristan was in the hospital. Jude was history. She had no intention of falling apart, not where anyone could see.

 Suddenly, she pulled out her phone with the intention of giving Dante a call.