Rringgg! Rringgg!

The sound wasn't just an alarm; it was a physical reminder and assault to the ears . Valerie groaned, her arm feeling like a log as she fumbled blindly across the bedside table. Her fingers finally touched the cool plastic of her phone, and she silenced the uproar with a violent swipe.

She didn't move. Not at first.

Mondays always arrived with a cruel punctuality, dragging exhaustion behind them like a heavy, suffocating life threatening shadow. She hadn't found rest the night before-only restless tossing and turning until the early hours of the morning. Her limbs felt heavy, her mind trapped in a thick fog. Laziness, sweet and seductive, whispered in her ear.

Just five more minutes...

Then, the fog cleared. Her eyes snapped open, tracking the position of the sun filtering through her thin curtains.

Something was wrong. The light was too bright. The room was too warm.

She lunged for her phone. 7:00 a.m.

Her heart didn't just drop; it went into the pit of her stomach.

"Oh no-no, no, no!"

Valerie sprang from the bed, her covers wrapped around her ankles and nearly sending her onto the floor. Adrenaline, sharp and stinging, replaced her exhaustion. Her interview at the Noir Group was in exactly sixty minutes. One hour. Sixty minutes to prove she wasn't the failure her family claimed she was. This job wasn't just a paycheck; it was the only ladder out of the pit her life had become.

She had no Plan B. No safety net. No one to catch her if she fell.

Mumbling frantic prayers and curses under her breath, she tore through her morning routine. She scrubbed her skin in a blur, applied just enough makeup to mask the dark circles of a sleepless night, and yanked her hair into a high, professional ponytail. Her hands were trembling so violently she nearly fumbled the buttons of her coffee-brown silk shirt. She paired it with tailored white pants and the white stilettos she usually reserved for dreams-or funerals.

By 7:30 a.m., she was on the road , flagging down a taxi with the desperation of a lost child. When one finally screeched to a halt, she slid into the back seat, breathless and vibrating with nerves.

"Noir Group," she gasped. "And please... ignore the speed limits."

When the car finally pulled up in front of the destination, Valerie felt the air leave her lungs.

The Noir Group skyscraper loomed above her-a tall building of glass and steel that seemed to pierce the very clouds. It didn't just look like an office; it looked like an altar to power, money, and ruthless influence. Standing at the base of it, Valerie felt tiny . Unworthy. Like a stray cat trying to enter a palace.

I have to do this, she whispered, the words a thin shield against her rising tension. I have to.

She straightened her shoulders, took a breath that tasted of exhaustion and nerves, and stepped inside. Her heels clicked with a sharply against the polished marble floor as she approached the reception desk. She forced a, calm smile even as her heartbeat echoed in her ears.

"Good morning," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. "I'm Valerie. I'm here for the Executive Sales Manager interview."

The receptionist didn't even look up from her screen. "Twenty-fifth floor. First office on the right."

"Thank you."

Valerie turned toward the elevators. In her haste, she didn't notice the difference between the staff elevators and the executive gold-trimmed lift. She just saw an open door and stepped inside.

The moment the sensors registered her presence, her life tilted in a swift motion .

Ellan Noir arrived seconds later.

The atmosphere in the lobby didn't just change; it froze . Conversations died mid-sentence. Security guards straightened their spines. Even the continuous hum of the air conditioning seemed to go silent out of respect.

He moved with a predatory confidence-tall, broad-shouldered, and encased in a tailored suit that clung to his muscular frame with a deadly precision. He was young, impossibly powerful, and whispered about in every boardroom in the city. Dark rumours followed him like a shadow-rumours of a temper as cold as ice and a reach that went far beyond the corporate world.

As the elevator doors began to slide shut, Ellan stepped into the small, confined space.

His sharp gaze swept the whole place landing instantly on Valerie. She was unfamiliar. Tense. A splash of ink in his pure world

And yet...

A flicker of something sparked in the back of his mind. A distant memory of a dim room. The scent of rain and panic. Room 502.

He didn't speak. He simply reached out and pressed the button to the floor of his office.

Valerie stiffened, her back pressing against the cool metal wall. Her heart was hammering so loudly she was certain he could hear it. She squeezed her eyes shut, silently rehearsing her interview answers, trying to reclaim her breath.

Then, the world stilled.

The elevator jolted violently, a sickening metallic screech echoing through the shaft. The lights flickered once, twice, and then changed into a terrifying, dim emergency glow.

"No... no, please..." she whispered, the sound escaping her before she could catch it.

The elevator died. It sat motionless, suspended in a void of steel.

Panic, hot and paralyzing, surged through her. This couldn't be happening. She couldn't be trapped. If she missed this, she'd have to go back to her father. She'd have to endure Claire's mocking laughter and her feigned sympathy. She'd be a ghost in her own life.

"I-I have an interview," she stammered, her voice breaking. "I can't be late. I really can't. Please..."

Tears, unrestrained and without warning, slid down her cheeks. She felt small, broken, and utterly exposed.

Ellan watched her from the shadows of the corner. Initially, a flash of annoyance crossed his deadly features-he hated tantrums. But as he watched her, his expression shifted to pure curiosity.. This was a girl fighting for her life not just a late appointment . Her vulnerability wasn't a sign of weakness; it was the raw and fierce resolve.

Moments later, the machine roared, and the elevator back to life. The tension in the elevator eased and the lift began its smooth motion once more.

As the doors slid open on the twenty-fifth floor, Valerie scrambled to wipe her face, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. She had just broken down in front of a stranger.

Ellan stepped forward, blocking her path for a split second. He reached into his breast pocket and held out a crisp, white silk handkerchief.

"Pull yourself together," he said, his voice a cool, low, manly that sent a different kind of shiver down her spine. "In this building, first impressions are the only ones that matter."

Without waiting for a response, he stepped out and walked away, his stride long and commanding.

Valerie stared at the expensive fabric in her trembling hands. She had no idea that this brief, embarrassing encounter had already re-written her destiny. By the time she reached the waiting area, she felt like she was walking through a dream. Three other candidates sat there-two women and a man-their faces void of expression. Valerie ducked into the nearby restroom, adjusted her ponytail, scrubbed the tear tracks from her face, and used the cool water to ground herself.

The interviews began. It was a utter devastation .

One woman emerged minutes later, her eyes red and her hands shaking.

A man followed, his face a blank sheet of shock.

Then came Chloe, a girl who looked like she'd been through a war zone.

When Valerie's name was finally called, her heart skipped a beat, then settled into a heavy, measured thud. She whispered a final, silent prayer and stepped through the heavy oak doors.

The office was made of glass. Sunlight spilled across a polished oak table that looked like it cost more than her entire apartment building. Four people sat in high-backed chairs, looking down at her like judges.

And there, in the center of the storm, sat the man from the elevator.

Ellan Noir.

He didn't say a word. He didn't ask a single question. He simply leaned back, his fingers placed under his chin, and watched her. His gaze was intense-unsettlingly so-as if he were peeling back the layers of her coffee-brown shirt to see the secrets she carried beneath.

Valerie answered every technical question with desperation. She talked about market trends and sales while her hands remained clasped tightly beneath the table to hide their tremors.

When the ordeal finally ended, she walked out of the room feeling utterly drained, as if she'd left a piece of her soul on that oak table. She scanned the hallway, half-hoping to see Ellan so she could return his handkerchief, but he was gone.

She left the building quietly, the cold city air hitting her like a slap. She stopped at a small, modest restaurant, staring at a plate of food she couldn't eat, feeling a strange mix of exhaustion and a tiny, flickering flame of hope.

That night, back in the silence of her flat, she washed the silk handkerchief by hand. She used the gentlest soap she had, hanging it to dry with a care .

She would return it. She had to. Because deep down, she knew this wasn't the last time she would see the man with the cold eyes and the silent mystery.

While Valerie was drowning in her own thoughts, the atmosphere at the Noir Group was thick with confusion. Ellan Noir didn't just request a file; he demanded it.

The board of directors exchanged puzzled glances. Ellan rarely, if ever, concerned himself with entry-level or mid-management business. He was the Lord of the empire not the servant. Yet, there he sat, flipping through Valerie's credentials with a gaze that could peel , bore hole into anything.

Finally, he spoke. His voice was a low, dangerous calm. "We're hiring her."

The HR director cleared his throat. "For the Sales position, sir? We have more experienced-"

"No," Ellan interrupted, his eyes never leaving her photo. "Not Sales. She'll be my Executive Personal Assistant. Double the starting salary."

It wasn't because he thought she was the most qualified. It was because he needed her within his reach. He needed to know why this girl intrigued him so much .He needed answers that only closeness could provide.

At her apartment, Valerie was full of nervous energy. The place was a battlefield of takeout boxes and discarded tissues-remnants of her weekend of mourning. She spent the morning scrubbing every surface, the physical labor providing a temporary calmness for her mind.

She was just returning from the supermarket when her phone chimed. An email. Subject: Offer of Employment – Noir Group.

Her heart performed a couple of somersault. She didn't just get the job; she was being catapulted directly to the 123rd floor. Personal Assistant to the CEO. Double the pay.

"A win is a win," she whispered, though a small, intuitive part of her wondered why a man like Ellan Noir would want a stranger as his right hand.

She called Nora immediately. The two of them screamed into their phones, a chorus of pure, unfiltered relief. For the first time since her birthday, Valerie felt like the ground beneath her feet was solid. She spent the rest of her savings on a new professional wardrobe- for the life she was about to start.

Monday arrived with a crisp, intimidating chill.

Valerie stood before the Noir Group skyscraper, looking every bit the high-powered assistant in a mid-length black dress that hugged her curves and white stilettos that added a boost to her confidence. Tucked deep in her bag, the crisp handkerchief.

She walked into the lobby, head held high, and approached the desk. "I'm here to resume as the CEO's Personal Assistant."

The receptionist's eyes flicked from Valerie's face down to her shoes, a silent, icy judgment. "123rd floor."

Valerie turned toward the elevators. She reached for the nearest one-the gold-trimmed doors-when a hand clamped onto her arm.

"What are you doing?" a deep, melodic voice asked.

Valerie spun around, her breath hitching. Standing there was a man who looked like he'd stepped off a fitness magazine cover-tall, muscular, and wearing a pair of thick-rimmed glasses that gave him an air of approachable intelligence.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't know," she stammered, heart racing.

"No harm done," he said, his smile softening his features. "But don't make that mistake again. This lift is strictly for the CEO. Using it is a fast track to a penalty."

"I understand," Valerie said, her face heating up.

"I'm Eric, by the way. You the new recruit?"

"Valerie. My first day."

They rode the public elevator together. When Valerie mentioned the 123rd floor, Eric's eyebrow shot up, but he didn't pry. He just offered a playful wink as they parted ways. "Hoping to see you around, Valerie."

She was met at the top floor by Rose, a petite woman who moved with the efficiency of a Swiss watch. Valerie barely had time to set her bag down before the intercom on her desk crackled to life.

"Get in here." The voice was a dark devilish growl. The voice wasn't just a command; it was a dark, devilish growl that seemed to vibrate the very glass of the office walls.

Valerie smoothed her dress, her palms damp, and hurried toward the heavy double doors. She knocked softly-a courtesy he likely didn't care for-and entered.

The office was a cathedral of power, all floor-to-ceiling glass and polished obsidian stone. Ellan sat behind a desk that looked less like furniture and more like a fortress .

"Good morning, sir," she said, her voice trembling just enough to betray her.

"My schedule for today," he said, sliding a tablet across the desk without looking up. His movements were swift , efficient. "You have a meeting in fifteen minutes. Take these documents to the executives for signatures. And book my lunch at a five-star restaurant. Somewhere private."

"Yes, sir."

She turned to leave, but her conscience pulled at her like a lead weight. She stopped, reached into her bag, and pulled out the silk handkerchief, neatly folded. She stepped closer, invading the sterile space of his desk to place it on the oak surface. "Sir... I'm here to return this. And I'm truly sorry about the elevator. I didn't know the rules."

Ellan finally looked up. For a second, time seemed to stretch, thin and fragile. He looked at the handkerchief, then at her. She stood there-a mix of professional poise and raw, wide-eyed honesty.

"How do I make it up to you?" she asked softly, the words hanging in the heavy air.

Ellan stood up. His massive frame cast a long, intimidating shadow that seemed to swallow her whole being . He took a step closer, and the air in the room suddenly stilled, as if the building itself was holding its breath.

"Sir..." she stammered, her heart hammering against her ribs.

"You want to make it up to me?" he asked, a predatory, devilish smirk across his lips. "I'm feeling particularly charitable today, Valerie."

He sat back down,swellving round in his chair . He didn't reach for the handkerchief. Instead, he tossed a thick, silver-embossed file across the table.

"Open it," he commanded.

Valerie's fingers shook as she flipped the first page. Her eyes widened, the breath hitching in her throat.

"I could sue you," he continued, his voice low ,predatory and lethal. "For breaching executive security, for putting the safety of this lift-and my life-in danger. I could fire you right now and ensure you never hold a job in this city again. You'd be blacklisted before the sun sets."

He paused, letting the weight of the threat settle in her marrow.

"Or," he leaned forward, "you can redeem yourself. I'm giving you a choice. One phone call from me, and the best cardiac surgeons in the country are flown in to fix Nora's failing heart. I pay for the surgery, the recovery, and the debt you've been drowning in. Or... I let the elevator penalty ruin you."

Valerie was speechless, her world tilting on its axis. She looked down at the contract, reading the words in a voice that was barely a whisper, yet loud enough to echo in the silent office.

...To be at Ellan Noir's beck and call 24/7. To never refuse a request, regardless of time or nature. Total professional and personal availability. Any breach of contract results in immediate blacklisting... or worse.

"This is absurd," Valerie whispered, the sting of tears blurring her vision. "This is... slavery."

Ellan stood up again, taking slow, calculated steps toward her. "You should have thought about the cost before you stepped into my lift, Valerie. Or before you offered to pay me back."

He moved with the speed of lightning, pinning her against the edge of the desk. The mahogany was cold against her lower back, but he was heat. His breath fanned her skin, and the scent of his expensive, manly cologne drifted into her nostrils, making her head feel fuzzy, her brain refuse to function at a very important time.

His gaze dropped to her lips. He was about to say something-to seal the bargain with words she couldn't take back-when the world outside their bubble exploded.

SLAM!

The office doors flew open.

"Ellan, darling!"

Bella strutted in, her presence like a splash of acid in a clean room. She stopped dead when she saw Valerie.

Rage, hot and immediate, surged through Ellan. Valerie tried to shrink back, her wrist caught in the crossfire as she tried to excuse herself, but Ellan's grip on the situation was iron-clad. He didn't let Valerie leave just yet, leaning in to whisper something inaudible to her before turning his fury on the intruder.

Bella lunged forward, grabbing Valerie's wrist with claws disguised as nails. "Who the fuck do you think you are?! Stay away from him if you value your life, you little slut"?

Valerie didn't cower. She twisted her arm, breaking Bella's grip with a sharp, practiced motion.

"Bella!!!" Ellan's voice was thunder. The walls seemed to shake. "Who gave you permission to breathe my air, let alone question my staff?"

Bella recoiled, her face turning a sickly shade of pale. Ellan stepped toward her, his hand ghosting over her neck-not a caress, but a threat.

"You think I don't know about the other night? The drugging? The setup?" His voice dropped to a lethal whisper. "You're a slut, Bella. A dirty whore who thinks she can trap a king. You'll never be more than a footnote."

Bella's eyes bugged out. She gasped for air, her body trembling. "You... you loved me once..."

"I made a mistake once," Ellan snapped, shoving her back toward the door. "Get out. Now!"

He didn't wait for her to leave. He dialed security. Within minutes, a man escorted a weeping, screaming Bella out of the building. But the look in Bella's eyes as she left wasn't one of defeat-it was a promise of war.

As soon as she reached her car, she dialed a burner number. "I want everything on the girl in Ellan's office. Every debt, every secret, every ghost in her closet. Now!"

Back inside, Valerie was rubbing her bruised wrist. The adrenaline was fading, leaving behind a cold realization: her dream job had come with a nightmare attached. She asked Rose about the woman.

"The Boss's ex," Rose whispered, eyes darting toward the closed doors. "A top-tier scandal. She cheated, he found out, and the world went quiet. Just... stay out of her way."

Lunchtime arrived so fast . Valerie knocked on Ellan's door to announce the reservation.

"Give me a few minutes," he replied. Valerie turned to go, but his voice stopped her. "Did I dismiss you?"

She froze. "I... sorry, sir."

"Wait for me at my car."

In the garage, she ran into Eric again. He was leaning against a sleek SUV, looking remarkably relaxed.

"Hey, Eric," she greeted, a small smile finally breaking through her stress.

"Look at you! PA to the Big Bad Wolf," Eric joked, his eyes gleaming. "How's the first day? Survived the Bella-storm yet?"

Valerie laughed faintly, grateful for the distraction. Eric was a chatterbox, and apparently, he was the only person in the building who wasn't terrified of Ellan.

When Ellan arrived, the air chilled again. "Let's go."

They headed to a VIP section of an upscale restaurant. The meal was served in a tense, rhythmic silence, punctuated only by Eric's constant chatter, which Valerie used as a shield to keep from looking at Ellan.

When Valerie excused herself to the restroom, Eric leaned in, his voice dropping. "So? Do you like her? She's different, Ellan."

Ellan's gaze hardened into flint. "Don't question me, Eric. Go to the warehouse. Get me the data on the man we trailed. Now. And don't let me ask again."

Eric nodded, the playfulness vanishing as he took his leave.

When Valerie returned, the table felt empty. "Where's Eric?"

"Errands," Ellan said shortly. He set his fork down and leaned forward, his eyes locking onto hers. Valerie stiffened " Do we have a deal?

Valerie nodded, her throat dry. "Yes."

"Accompany me to the banquet tomorrow evening."

It wasn't an invitation. It was a command.

"Sir, I don't think-" Drop the signed contract on my table after lunch ."My driver will take you to a stylist," he continued, cutting her off with a tone of finality . "I will pick you up when you're finished."

"But I-"

"will you like me to remind you that I'm not to be questioned "

She swallowed hard. It felt like a weight. She looked at him-at the cold, calculating beauty of his face-and gave no answer. Silence was her only surrender.

That evening, the apartment felt smaller. Nora was already there, a surprise visitor who wrapped Valerie in a hug the moment she walked through the door.

"I wanted to surprise you!" Nora chirped.

They spent the evening over dinner, the air filled with laughter as Valerie recounted the chaos of the office, the "handkerchief man," and the job. But she kept the birthday-and the blood on the sheets-locked away in the dark.

As Valerie tried to sleep but she couldn't she thought about the contract "all of this is for you Nora I can't bear to loose you , miles away, a phone rang in a dark room.

"We're trailing her, Miss Bella. We'll have the full report by morning."

"Good," Bella hissed, staring at a photo of Valerie on her screen. "Let's see how long she lasts once the world knows who she really is."

The morning was a blur of nervous energy. Valerie managed a quick breakfast, leaving a scribbled note for Nora before rushing to the Noir Group. Her first task was prepping Ellan's schedule, a task she performed with extra care. When Ellan arrived, his presence seemed to command the very tiny particles in the air. She followed him into his office, reciting the day's agenda with a steady voice.

"Okay," Ellan said, his gaze lingering on her for a second too long. "Once Eric arrives, hand everything over to him. Then, follow my driver."

"Yes, sir," she replied.

"It's Ellan to you tonight," he corrected, his voice dropping into a low, private tone.

Valerie felt a prickle of heat climb her neck as she left his office. She hadn't gone far before Eric appeared, a playful smirk dancing on his lips.

"Hey, . How are you doing?"

"I'm good, Eric," she said, offering a small smile.

"You left without bidding me goodbye earlier-it's not fair. Did someone miss me?" he teased, leaning against her desk.

Valerie chuckled. "I had a few things to handle. Sorry about that. Ellan asked me to hand these documents over to you."

"No problem, baby," Eric said, taking the files. "Consider it done."

As Valerie gathered her things, Rose watched her from the reception area. "Leaving so early?"

"The boss asked me to handle some personal business," Valerie said shortly, not wanting to stir the office gossip further. She stepped into the waiting black sedan, and the driver immediately zoomed off into the city traffic.

Back in the office, Eric turned to Ellan. "Why is she leaving so early?"

"She's accompanying me to the banquet tonight," Ellan replied without looking up.

Eric's expression shifted to one of genuine concern. "Are you sure? She's fragile, Ellan. She might not survive the world you're trying to drag her into. You have to stop this."

Ellan finally looked up, his eyes flashing with cold fire. "Since when do you dictate my moves, Eric?"

Silence fell over the room, heavy and absolute. Eric didn't push further.

The driver took Valerie to a high-class boutique nestled in the city's most expensive district. The interior was all white marble and gold accents. As she entered, a man with flamboyant energy and impeccable style floated toward her.

"Hello, gorgeous! How are you doing?" his gaze swept over her . "Are you Ellan's new girlfriend?"

"No-no," Valerie stammered, her cheeks flushing. "I'm his assistant."

"I'm John, and you are?"

"Valerie."

"Such a pretty name for an even prettier face," John fawned, circling her. "I love your skin, and this hair... perfection." He clapped his hands, the sound echoing through the showroom. "Everyone! Get to work! Ellan will be here by seven, and that man does not believe in waiting."

They whisked her away to a private suite. The next few hours were a whirlwind of work . A pedicure, a manicure, and a full-body spa treatment that left Valerie's muscles feeling like silk. By the time they moved her to the makeup chair, she felt more relaxed than she had in years.

John applied a cocktail of expensive oils and creams before starting on her face. When he finally finished, he leaned back satisfaction "Open your eyes, darling."

Valerie gasped. The woman in the mirror was a stranger. Her hair had been styled into loose, cascading curls that bounced off her shoulders. Her eyes were framed by a sultry, smoky shadow, and her lips were painted a bold, defiant red that matched the silk of her gown.

With less than thirty minutes to spare, they helped her into the dress. It was a floor-length, armless red gown that clung to her hourglass figure like a second skin. Shimmering silver stones were hand-stitched across the bodice, and a daring slit at the front showcased her long, straight legs.

John added the finishing touches: a diamond teardrop necklace that rested against her collarbone and silver heels that made her feel seven feet tall.

When she stepped into the showroom, Ellan was already waiting. He was dressed in a dark, perfectly tailored tuxedo, leaning against a display case. John beamed. "Your girl is magnificent, Ellan. You made a perfect choice with the dress. And that necklace... you must really love her to give her that."

"I'm not here for your chatter, John," Ellan said, though his eyes never left the doorway. "Where is she?"

Then, Valerie stepped into the light.

For a long moment, the air in the room seemed to vanish. Ellan was visibly stunned. The dress highlighted her full breast and narrow waist, the red fabric making her skin look like porcelain. She looked breath-taking.

Valerie shifted uncomfortably, feeling exposed by the slit in the skirt. "It's just for one night," she whispered to herself. "I can manage."

John beamed. "She was already a diamond; I just provided the polish."

Ellan stepped forward, stretching out his hand. Valerie hesitated for a heartbeat before placing her fingers in his. He slid a matching silver bracelet onto her wrist, his touch lingering.

"You look beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick.

"Thank you," she replied, her heart drumming against her ribs.

When they arrived at the event, Eric was waiting by the entrance. He moved to give Valerie a friendly hug, but Ellan stepped in, physically pushing him back. "Ride in the other car, Eric. You're not with us."

The banquet hall was a sea of sophisticated women and men in power. As Ellan opened the car door for her, Valerie felt a wave of nausea. "I don't fit in here," she whispered, her hand trembling.

Ellan seemed to sense her fear. He tightened his grip on her hand, pulling her closer to his side. "You fit wherever I say you fit."

They walked through the grand doors, and a collective hush fell over the room. The whispers started instantly-a hiss of curiosity and envy. Ellan ignored them all, heading straight for his parents.

"Good evening," he said coolly.

Valerie followed suit, offering a polite greeting. His mother's eyes were like ice. "Who is she, Ellan?"

Before he could answer, Bella appeared, her voice dripping with venom. "His personal assistant."

"So you ignored Bella just to bring your assistant?" his mother sneered.

Ellan didn't even blink. "If you'll excuse us." He led Valerie away before the conversation could turn into a bloodbath.

He was pulled away by a group of business partners a few minutes later, leaving Valerie alone near the edge of the ballroom. That was when she saw them.

Claire and Ryan.

"How did you get in here?" Claire hissed, her face contorting with rage. "I'm sure you must have lost your way. Or did you sleep your way in?"

"I don't think so," Ryan added, his smirk making Valerie's stomach turn. "She was a virgin the last time I checked. You're a lowlife, Valerie. You don't belong here. Maybe I should call security and have them toss you back to the gutter."

"Are you here to beg Dad for money?" Claire laughed. "Jokes on you. He's spending a fortune on my engagement party. I'll be sure to send you an invite so you can watch what a real life looks like."

"Enough," Valerie said, her voice shaking but firm. "I'm not here for Dad, and I'm certainly not here for my leftover that you call a husband."

Claire's hand flew up to slap her, but it never landed. Ellan was suddenly there, his hand catching Claire's wrist mid-air with a strength that made her wince.

"I wouldn't dare if I were you," he growled.

"Mr. Noir... I... has she offended you?" Claire stammered, her cruelty vanishing. "Tell me, so I can deal with her!"

"I don't think you understand," Ellan said, his voice dropping to a lethal level. "You will never speak to her like that again if you want to keep your head on your shoulders. Do I make myself clear?"

Ryan tried to step in. "Mr. Noir, I own Berries Company. We submitted a proposal to you-"

"And why would I want anything to do with a man like you?" Ellan cut him off. He raised Valerie's hand, intentionally flashing their matching silver bracelets to the crowd. Without another word, he led her away.

"Who were those people?" he asked, his jaw tight.

"My stepsister and my ex," she whispered.

"You shouldn't let anyone talk down to you," he began, but another partner intercepted him before he could finish. Valerie was relieved; she wasn't ready to explain the depth of the betrayal.

Exhausted by the drama, Valerie headed to the bar for a glass of champagne. Nora had warned her not to drink, so she pulled out her phone to text her friend instead, desperate for a pull to reality.

"Why is such a beautiful woman sitting alone while the party is in full swing?"

Valerie looked up. Standing before her was a tall man with striking blue eyes and a scent that was both expensive and predatory.

"I'm not really the party type," she replied cautiously.

"Can I at least have a dance?"

"I don't think my boss would like you putting your hands on what is his," Eric's voice interjected. He stepped between them, his friendly demeanor gone.

The blue-eyed man smirked. "I'm sure Mr. Noir won't mind. Miss Valerie?"

"No," Valerie said quickly. She took Eric's hand and let him lead her away.

"You shouldn't talk to that man," Eric whispered, his voice urgent. "He's dangerous. Ellan would kill him if he saw him near you."

"Not like he cares," Valerie muttered. "I'm just here for show."

"It's not what you think, Valerie," Eric started, but she was already heading for the restroom. "I just need a minute alone, Eric."

Bella saw her opening. She slipped into the restroom behind Valerie, her heels clicking like a predator's. As soon as the door closed, she bolted it.

"You refuse to stay away from him, don't you?" Bella hissed.

Before Valerie could even process the threat, Bella's hand lashed out. CRACK. The slap sent Valerie's head snapping to the side. Her face stung, turning a violent red in an instant.

Bella grabbed Valerie by her hair, tossing her against the marble wall. While Valerie was disoriented, Bella pulled a white handkerchief from her purse-one soaked in a toxic, chemical scent. She forced it over Valerie's mouth and nose.

Valerie struggled, her hands clawing at Bella's arms, but the world began to spin. Her limbs grew heavy. Her vision flickered and died. She slumped to the floor, unconscious.

Bella stepped over her, checking the hallway before locking the door and tossing the key away.

Inside the ballroom, it was time for the first dance. Ellan scanned the room, his eyes growing frantic.

"Where is she?" he demanded, cornering Eric.

"She went to the restroom a while ago," Eric said, checking his watch. "She hasn't come out."

From across the room, Bella smiled over the rim of her glass. Search all you want, Ellan.

Ellan didn't wait. He sprinted to the restroom area and gripped the handle. It was locked. He pounded on the door, shouting her name, but only silence answered him.

"Eric! Get your men! Search every exit! Now!"

He kicked the door with everything he had, the wood splintering as Valerie lifeless body stay limp on the cold floor.

Will Ellan find her before the trail goes cold, or is Valerie's nightmare just beginning?