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?

Far into the outskirts of the city, where the streetlights were sparse and the shadows long, a sleek black van cut through the midnight fog like a predator through deep water. Inside, the cabin was thick with the scent of stale tobacco and anxiety. A phone vibrated on the dash, the glowing screen illuminating the scarred face of the driver.

A voice, cold and jagged with a refined sort of rage, hissed through the speaker. "I asked you for one thing. One simple task, and you botched it."

"Sir, the security was tighter than we anticipated-Noir's personal detail was everywhere-"

"I don't want excuses! I wanted her in the van before the gala ended. I wanted her in my custody before Noir could even realize she was missing." The voice dropped to a murderous whisper. "If Ellan Noir finds a single thread leading back to me-if he traces that drug back to my chemist-you are all dead men. Do you understand? Dispose of the vehicle and disappear."

Before the driver could plead for his life, the line went dead, leaving only the sound of the tires humming against the wet asphalt.

Back at the Banquet

The atmosphere in the grand ballroom had shifted from a celebration of wealth to a tomb of suffocating silence. Ellan stood over Valerie's crumpled form, his chest heaving under his tailored tuxedo. Seeing her like this-lifeless on the cold, unforgiving marble, her silk gown fanned out around her like broken wings-ignited a primal, volcanic fury he could no longer suppress.

"Check the CCTV!" he roared, his voice cracking like a whip through the vaulted hall. "Lock every exit. Lock the gates. Nobody leaves this building until I know whose hand touched her."

One of his security guards, a man twice Valerie's size, stepped forward, reaching out to lift her. Ellan's eyes snapped to the man, a flash of obsidian malice so lethal the guard recoiled as if he'd been burned.

"Don't. Touch. Her," Ellan gritted out.

Without another word, Ellan dropped to one knee and scooped Valerie into his arms. He didn't care about the gasps of the socialites or the way the orchestra's music had ground to a discordant halt. He felt the frantic, unnatural heat radiating off her skin through the fabric of his shirt. Her head lolled against his shoulder, her breath coming in shallow, ragged puffs that smelled faintly of the jasmine-scented drug someone had forced down her throat.

His men swarmed the building, but the report that came back ten minutes later was hollow: the footage had been professionally wiped. There was no evidence, no shadow to blame. Bella stood in the far corner of the room, her hand clutched around a champagne flute, her face a carefully constructed mask of faux concern. But beneath the surface, she was fuming. Her plan to have Valerie abducted was ruined, but as she watched Ellan carry her sister away, a new venom filled her. If Valerie remembers a single second of what I did, Bella thought, her knuckles turning white, I'll have to finish what I started.

The moment Ellan reached his SUV and cleared the crowd, Valerie's fingers suddenly spasmed. She didn't wake up-not fully-but the drug was clawing its way through her system. She gripped his lapels, her nails digging into the expensive wool. Her face was flushed a deep, feverish crimson, and her eyes fluttered open, glassy and unfocused.

"It's you..." she murmured, her voice a broken, raspy silk. She looked at him but saw a ghost. "I thought you wouldn't come. I'm just... a tool, right? A mere secretary. Why do you look so angry?"

"Quiet, Valerie," Ellan gritted out, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs.

She wasn't listening. The aphrodisiac spiked in her blood, overriding her fear. She lunged forward in his arms, her body arching toward his warmth. Her lips crashed clumsily, desperately against his. It wasn't a kiss of affection; it was a chemical-fueled hunger, a cry for relief. Her hands wandered, mapping the hard, unyielding muscle of his chest and the column of his throat.

Ellan froze, his breath hitching as her tongue brushed his lower lip. His body, betraying his mind, reacted instantly. The heat of her, the scent of her skin, and the raw vulnerability of her touch sent a jolt of desire through him that nearly brought him to his knees. But he forced his hands to remain steady as he shoved her into the passenger seat. He wouldn't take her like this-drugged, confused, and broken.

He floored the accelerator, the engine of the SUV roaring as he tore through the city streets. With one hand on the wheel and the other restraining Valerie as she tried to pull her gown off, he dialed his personal physician.

"My house. Fifteen minutes," Ellan barked into the hands-free.

"Ellan? It's two in the morning. I'm on vaca-"

"If you want to keep your medical license and your head, Kelvin, you will be in my foyer in ten minutes. No excuses."

Kelvin was waiting, looking disheveled in a half-buttoned shirt, but his annoyance vanished the second he saw the state Valerie was in. Ellan carried her through the front doors, his suit jacket wrapped around her, though she was still thrashing, her skin slick with a fine sheen of sweat.

"What happened, Ellan? Did you lose control?" Kelvin asked, his voice dropping into professional seriousness as he followed them up the grand staircase.

Ellan ignored the jab, his jaw set in a hard line. He carried her straight into the master suite-a place no woman had stepped into in years. He dropped her onto the center of the massive, silk-sheeted bed, but she didn't let go. She was a storm of heat and teeth now. She pulled him down, her legs tangling with his as she straddled his lap, her breath hitching as she nipped at his earlobe.

"Valerie, stop," he groaned, his voice thick with a mix of agony and restraint.

She pouted, her glazed eyes searching his. She looked like a siren, her hair a wild halo against his black pillows. Ellan's blood was on fire, but he grabbed her wrists, gently but firmly pinning them above her head. He reached for an oversized black tee from his dresser and moved with surgical speed to get it over her head, shielding her body from Kelvin's eyes before he allowed the doctor to approach.

"Check her pulse. Now," Ellan ordered.

As Kelvin reached for her arm, Valerie lunged toward the doctor, her hands fumbling with his buttons.

"Lay a finger on her for anything other than a medical exam, and you're a dead man," Ellan warned, his voice a low, territorial rumble.

Kelvin held up his hands. "Jeez, relax. I haven't even touched her. Are you growing a heart, Ellan? Or just a leash?" He checked the thermometer and his face went pale. "Her temperature is skyrocketing. This isn't just a standard stimulant; it's a high-grade hallucinogenic aphrodisiac. If it hits 104, her brain will fry. Get the ice bath ready. Now!"

The next twenty minutes were a nightmare of cold and violence. Ellan lowered Valerie into the freezing water of his marble tub. The shock of the ice forced a piercing scream from her lungs. She fought him, her small hands splashing and clawing at his arms, her teeth clattering so loudly the sound filled the room.

"I've got you," Ellan whispered, his own shirt soaked and clinging to his chest as he held her submerged. "I've got you, Valerie. Just breathe."

Finally, her pulse began to level out. The frantic, wild look in her eyes faded into exhaustion. Her skin turned from a dangerous red to a pale, trembling ivory. Ellan whisked her out of the tub, wrapping her in a thick, heated towel and using his own body heat to regulate her temperature until she finally slumped against him, unconscious.

After Kelvin administered a sedative and left, the house fell into a heavy, expectant silence. Ellan sat on the edge of the bed, watching Valerie sleep. He reached out, his fingers trembling-a sensation he hadn't felt in a decade-as he brushed a damp strand of hair away from her face.

The way the black t-shirt had hiked up during the struggle caught his eye. He hesitated, his heart thudding against his ribs like a trapped bird. He reached down, his breath held tight, and pulled the hem of the shirt just high enough to see her lower abdomen.

There, silver and faint against her pale skin, was a jagged, inch-long scar.

Flashback: Two Years Ago

The memory hit him like a physical blow to the solar plexus. Two years ago, the Noir Group had been on the verge of bankruptcy. Ellan had refused his parents' "charity," which came with the price of marrying the manipulative Bella. In his desperation and anger, he had gone to a high-end underground club, seeking to drown his failures in gin.

His drink had been spiked-Bella's doing, he later found out-and he had stumbled into a darkened hotel suite, his blood roaring with a drugged, primal need.

A girl had been there. He remembered the smell of rain and cheap perfume on her skin. He remembered the way she looked in the moonlight-vulnerable, yet so hauntingly beautiful. In his haze, he hadn't seen her face clearly, but he remembered the feeling of her.

He remembered the way his hands had explored the silk of her curves, the way her soft pleas had turned into breathless moans of surrender as he claimed her. He had been a beast, driven by the drug and his own suppressed rage, but she had met him with a heat that matched his own.

He remembered the specific, electric jolt of pleasure when he entered her, the way she had dug her nails into his back, marking him as her own. And he remembered waking up at dawn to the sound of security. He had looked down at the girl sleeping peacefully beside him and seen that exact, jagged scar on her stomach before he was forced to flee.

He had searched for her for two years. He had looked for that shadow girl in every city, in every high-society gala. And she had been sitting ten feet away from him in his office for months, hiding behind a desk and a professional mask.

Valerie woke with a headache that felt like a rhythmic hammering against her skull. She sat up, the heavy silk duvet sliding down to reveal a man's black t-shirt. Panic flared in her chest. She remembered the restroom... the sting of a needle... and then nothing but flashes of cold water and Ellan's voice.

She stumbled downstairs, her legs feeling like lead. In the dining room, Ellan sat at the head of a long table, looking effortlessly composed in a charcoal suit. The scent of coffee and expensive tobacco filled the air.

"What happened?" she raspy out, her voice barely a whisper. "Why am I in your house? Why am I wearing your clothes?"

Ellan didn't look up from his coffee, but his hand tightened around the handle of the cup. "You were drugged at the gala, Valerie. You had a seizure. I brought you here to be treated by my doctor."

"I don't remember... anything. Did I... did we?"

"Some things are better left unsaid," he said curtly, finally looking up. His obsidian eyes were unreadable, but they burned with a new, dangerous intensity. "Take the day off. Eric will bring your things. A driver is waiting downstairs."

He stood up and walked out before she could protest. As he pulled his SUV out of the driveway, Ellan's knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. The contract was no longer just a way to save Nora's life. It was a cage to keep Valerie exactly where he could see her. She was his-she had always been his-and if Bryan or Bella thought they could touch her again, they would find out exactly how he earned the title of the Ruthless CEO.

The leather seats of the black SUV felt like a golden trap. Valerie leaned her forehead against the cool glass of the window, watching the city of Noir blur into a smoke and mist . On her wrists, the silver bracelets caught the morning light, sending mixed feelings and reflections dancing across the interior. They weren't just jewelry; they were handcuffs shaped in a billionaire's obsession.

The driver, a man as silent and impenetrable as a stone wall, didn't offer a word of conversation. He didn't need to. His presence alone was a reminder that even when Ellan Noir wasn't in the room, his eyes were still on her.

"Stop at St. Jude's Private Clinic," Valerie said, her voice sounding thin.

Ten minutes later, the SUV pulled up to the sterile gates of the clinic. This was where the "Beck-and-Call" money went. Every dollar of her dignity was being converted into oxygen and heart monitors for the only person who had ever truly loved her.

The hospital smelled of lavender-scented floor wax and the sharp sting of antiseptic. It was a world away from the luxury of Ellan's mansion. Valerie smoothed down the $5,000 silk blouse Eric had delivered to the house earlier that morning. It felt like sandpaper against her skin.

She pushed open the door to Room 402, forcing a bright, fragile smile onto her face. "Nora? You awake?"

Nora was propped up against a mountain of pillows, her skin pale, but her eyes lit up. "Val! Look at you!" Nora wheezed, her voice a rattling whistle that made Valerie's chest tighten. Nora gestured weakly to Valerie's designer outfit. "Did you get promoted to CEO while I was napping?"

Valerie let out a soft, forced laugh as she sat on the edge of the bed. "Something like that. The Noir Group pays well, Nora. I told you I'd handle the bills."

Nora's smile faltered, her gaze drifting to the silver bracelets on Valerie's wrists. "Val... those look expensive. Are you okay? You look like you haven't slept in a week."

"I'm fine," Valerie lied. "Just a lot of late-night meetings. The CEO is... demanding."

"Is he mean to you?" Nora's grip on her hand tightened. "Because if he is, I'll get out of this bed and-"

A violent fit of coughing cut her off. Valerie jumped up, her heart leaping into her throat as she grabbed water, watching Nora struggle for breath. As the coughing subsided, Nora slumped back. "Sorry," she whispered.

"Don't be sorry," Valerie choked out, kissing Nora's forehead. "Just rest. The surgery is scheduled for the end of the month. Everything is paid for. I promise."

Valerie felt uneasy as she left the clinic. Eric was waiting by the exit, looking at his watch.

"Mr. Noir was concerned about your detour," Eric said. "He is expecting you in the office. Now."

When Valerie entered the top-floor suite of the Noir Group, the air felt electrifying. She pushed open the heavy mahogany doors of Ellan's private office. He was silhouetted against the floor-to-ceiling windows, a dark figure looking down on his kingdom.

"You're late," he said, his voice a low, vibrating growl.

"I went to see Nora," Valerie said, trying to steady her breathing. "I assume Eric already gave you the report."

Ellan turned slowly. He had discarded his suit jacket, his white shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular forearms. He walked around the desk, his movements slow and predatory, until he was standing inches away from her.

The memory of the previous night-the ice bath, his hands on her skin, the way she had straddled him in a drug-induced haze-flashed through her mind. Her pulse spiked. Did he see it? she wondered, her stomach twisting. Did he see the scar?

Ellan reached out, his fingers brushing against the silk of her collar. He didn't touch her skin, but the heat of his hand was a physical weight.

"You're trembling, Valerie," he murmured, his eyes searching hers with a terrifying, calculated intensity. "Why? Are you still feeling the effects of the... cocktail... someone gave you last night?"

"I'm just tired," she whispered.

"Are you?" He stepped closer, his scent-sandalwood and power-filling her lungs. "Because you were quite energetic last night. You said some very interesting things when you were in my arms. About tools. About meaningless secretaries."

Valerie looked away, her face flushing crimson. "I wasn't myself."

"And yet," Ellan leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, "you felt remarkably familiar. Like a ghost I've been trying to catch for a very long time."

Valerie's heart stopped. She looked up at him, her breath hitching. He didn't say the words, but the way his gaze dropped to her midsection-just for a split second-made her blood run cold. He was testing her. He was waiting for her to break.

"Bryan is still out there," he said, his tone suddenly shifting back to a cold, professional edge. "And after what happened at the gala, I won't have my personal secretary living in a pathetic apartment where my rivals can reach her. It's bad for business."

He walked back to his desk, picking up a pen as if he hadn't just been inches away from her lips. "You're moving into the Noir estate tonight. Eric is already packing your things."

"What? No! That wasn't in the contract," Valerie gasped.

"The contract says you are at my beck and call 24/7," Ellan said, his eyes locking onto hers with an obsidian finality. "I can't call you if you're across the city. You will live under my roof. You will be under my protection."

He paused, a dark, knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Unless, of course, there's a reason you're afraid to be alone with me, Valerie? Something you're trying to hide?"

Valerie felt the walls closing in. He didn't know-not for sure-but he was hunting. And she was trapped.

"No," she whispered. "I have nothing to hide."

"Good," Ellan said, returning to his files. "Then I'll see you for dinner. Don't be late."

Valerie turned and walked out of the office, her legs feeling heavy. As the heavy doors closed behind her, she realized she wasn't just Nora's savior anymore. She was a captive in a game where the rules were written in Ellan Noir's blood.

Valerie didn't take the SUV back to her apartment. She needed to breathe. She took the subway, huddling in a corner her silk blouse screaming luxury among the other commuters .

When she reached her neighbourhood-she felt a momentary sense of relief. This was her home. It was small, but it was hers. That relief shattered the moment she turned the corner. A silver Mercedes was parked in front of her building. Two men in black suits stood by the entrance.

Valerie's heart plummeted. She took the stairs two at a time. She reached the third floor and found her apartment door wide open.

"What are you doing?" she screamed as she burst inside.

The small living room was a chaos of cardboard boxes and bubble wrap. Eric stood in the center of the room, calmly checking items off a list on his tablet. Two movers were currently lifting her lumpy, second-hand sofa.

"Ms. Valerie," Eric said without looking up. "You're late. We've already cleared the bedroom."

"Get out! This is my home! You can't just walk in here-"

"Mr. Noir was very clear," Eric interrupted. "He wants you settled before sundown. Anything you don't take will be disposed of. Mr. Noir doesn't believe in clutter."

Valerie felt a wave of nausea. She looked around at the mismatched plates and Nora's old books-the only pieces of her soul she had left. She rushed to the bedroom, finding it stripped bare.

"Wait," she whispered, her eyes landing on a small wooden box tucked under the bedframe that the movers hadn't reached yet.

She dive for it, clutching it to her chest. Inside was the only thing she had kept from that night two years ago-a torn piece of a black silk tie she had found tangled in her hair the next morning.

"Is there a problem, Ms. Valerie?"

"No," Valerie snapped, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the wood. "I'm taking this myself."

"As you wish. Mr. Noir hates when people keep him waiting especially on the dinning table . I suggest you don't test it on your first night."

Valerie took one last look at the empty apartment. She felt like a stranger in her own life, a woman being erased and rewritten. She walked out the door, the small wooden box hidden under her arm, and didn't look back. The terrifying knowledge that when the sun went down, she wouldn't be Valerie anymore. She would be Ellan Noir's "Guest." And in his house, the dark had a way of revealing secrets that were meant to stay buried