The moment the lecture ended, Keeley yanked the suit jacket off her shoulders and clutched it tightly in her hand.

She kept her head down and merged into the moving crowd, walking as fast as she could toward the side exit.

Just as she was about to step through the doors, a massive, oppressive figure blocked her path.

Keeley slammed on the brakes. She looked up and crashed straight into Holland's half-smiling eyes.

Right then, Emilee squeezed through the crowd, a sickeningly sweet smile plastered on her face.

Emilee held out her gold-embossed resume with both hands, trying to engage Holland in a conversation about industry trends.

Holland didn't even blink. His gaze remained deadlocked on Keeley.

An event organizer's aide stepped in instantly, using a polite but firm stance to physically block Emilee away, redirecting her back to the student section.

Emilee stood frozen with her resume in the air. The students around them threw her mocking glances.

Holland ignored everything around him. He held out his large, long-fingered hand toward Keeley.

Using a tone that allowed zero room for argument, he told Keeley to take out her phone and add him on LinkedIn.

Keeley gripped the straps of her backpack tightly. She coldly refused, saying she would dry-clean the jacket and mail it to his company.

Holland leaned in slightly. "I want to discuss your open-source code," he said, his voice dropping to a volume only she could hear.

Keeley gritted her teeth and lied. She said she got a new phone and hadn't downloaded the LinkedIn app yet.

Holland let out a short laugh. "Did you really think the university's emergency contact registry was secure from the man funding their new cybersecurity lab?" His thin lips parted, and he accurately recited a ten-digit phone number. It was Keeley's highly private, brand-new number she had just changed last week.

A chill ran down Keeley's spine. Her fingers tightened around the jacket. He'd found her again. Of course he had.

Holland ordered her to open iMessage and add him right now.

The students in the hallway stopped walking. They looked at Keeley with envious eyes, wishing a tech giant would beg for their contact info.

Crushed by the psychological pressure and the public audience, Keeley's trembling hand reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. She tried to lock the screen, but Holland was faster.

The second the screen lit up, Holland reached out and snatched the device right out of her hand.

Keeley let out a gasp. She tried to grab it back, but he easily blocked her with his forearm.

Holding her phone in one hand, Holland's long thumb swiped rapidly across the screen.

He navigated straight to her Settings and opened the Blocked Contacts list.

At the very bottom of the long list, a contact named "HK" sat quietly.

A dangerous curve appeared on the corner of Holland's mouth. He tapped 'Unblock'.

Then, he pulled out his own phone and dialed the number. Keeley's phone immediately started vibrating in his hand.

Satisfied, Holland ended the call and shoved the phone back into Keeley's stiff fingers.

He gave her a deeply meaningful look. "See you soon," he said.

Surrounded by the lingering awe of the students, he turned and walked away with unhurried, predatory grace.

Keeley looked down at the glowing screen. A new message from HK popped up: Hi, again.

Her throat closed up. She couldn't breathe.

Keeley dragged her heavy legs into her dorm room. A wave of extreme weakness washed over her.

The freezing temperature of the lecture hall, combined with the violent emotional whiplash, had completely broken her immune system.

She didn't even have the energy to change her clothes. She crawled straight into bed and wrapped herself tightly in a thick wool blanket.

Her forehead was burning hot. Her head throbbed as if someone was taking a hammer to her skull.

The phone on her nightstand suddenly let out a harsh vibration. The screen lit up the dark corner.

It was an iMessage from HK, asking if she had taken her temperature yet.

Keeley stared at the screen. She bit down on her cracked lips and refused to reply.

Five minutes later, the phone buzzed again. A second message from HK: Medicine is in your jacket pocket. Take it.

Keeley froze. She forced herself to sit up and reached for the suit jacket she had dumped at the foot of the bed. Her fingers brushed against a small cardboard box tucked inside the outer pocket. Cold medicine.

Holland must have slipped it in when he grabbed her phone—or when he shoved the device back into her hand. She had been too shocked to notice.

The realization of his absolute, suffocating infiltration made Keeley's stomach churn. She threw the box violently into the trash can.

She slammed the phone face down on the table and closed her eyes, trying to sleep off the fever.

Bang!

The dorm door was kicked open. Her roommate, Anjelica, walked in with three other girls.

They were carrying takeout bags and blasting deafening hip-hop music from a portable speaker.

Anjelica, still seething with visible jealousy over the fact that Holland had completely ignored her own attempts to make eye contact during the lecture, sat down at her desk. She smashed her fingers onto her mechanical keyboard, deliberately cranking up the volume and screaming into her headset while playing a video game.

The noise pierced Keeley's throbbing brain. She weakly poked her head out from under the blanket.

"Can you please turn it down a little?" Keeley asked, her voice raw and scratchy. "I'm sick."

Anjelica stopped typing. She spun her chair around, her eyes flashing with a petty, vindictive gleam as she let out a loud, mocking sneer.

"You loved the attention at the lecture today, Keeley," Anjelica yelled over the music. "Don't act all fragile now just because you're back in the dorm."

The other girls erupted into harsh, grating laughter.

Keeley's body shook with anger, but the high fever robbed her of the strength to fight back.

She pulled the blanket over her head in despair. Her violent coughing was completely drowned out by the video game sound effects.

Suffocating in the dark under the wool, Keeley realized she could not survive in this toxic environment for another day.

She fumbled for her phone, turned the brightness all the way down, and opened a cheap NYC rental website.

She scrolled through the sketchy, rundown listings deep in Brooklyn, far away from Manhattan.

Looking at the depressing photos and the still-exorbitant rent prices, her eyes burned with tears of sheer helplessness.

Just then, a banner notification dropped down from HK: Ignoring my texts. You must be really sick.

That arrogant, controlling taunt was the final straw.

Keeley pressed her thumb hard against the power button and completely shut the phone off. She severed all connections.

She bit her lip until she tasted blood in the dark, swearing to herself that she would crawl out of here tomorrow morning to look for an apartment.

At seven in the morning, Keeley pushed open the front doors of her dorm building. Her legs felt like they were filled with lead.

Her face was as pale as a sheet of paper. Dark, heavy circles bruised the skin under her eyes, and her lips were cracked and bloodless.

A sharp autumn wind blew past. She broke into an uncontrollable fit of coughing, wrapping her cheap coat tighter around her shivering frame.

She looked down at the piece of paper in her hand with the Brooklyn address. She started walking unsteadily toward the subway station.

Right at that moment, a pitch-black Maybach S680 glided silently to the curb right beside her.

The dark, bulletproof window of the backseat rolled down, revealing Holland's face. It was dark as a thundercloud.

His deep eyes scanned her swaying, fragile body like a radar. His eyebrows snapped together in a harsh line.

Hearing the engine, Keeley turned her head. When she saw him, she stumbled backward instinctively, like she had just seen a monster.

Holland didn't waste a single word. He shoved the car door open and stepped out, his long legs eating up the distance between them.

Panic flooded Keeley's veins. She turned around and tried to run toward the opposite street to escape his sight.

But the fever made her steps clumsy. Before she could take three steps, Holland's large hand clamped down hard on her thin wrist.

The burning heat radiating from her skin made Holland's expression freeze over. He harshly demanded to know why her phone was turned off.

Keeley struggled wildly. "Let me go!" she screamed, her voice hoarse and broken. "I have to go look at an apartment!"

Holland glanced at the crumpled piece of paper in her hand. A flash of violent rage ignited in his eyes.

He completely ignored her resistance. He bent down, scooped his arm under the back of her knees, and lifted her entirely off the ground.

Keeley let out a sharp gasp. Her feet dangled in the air. Her weak fists beat uselessly against his rock-hard chest.

A few early-rising Columbia students walked by, covering their mouths in shock at the aggressive scene.

Holland shot a lethal, warning glare at the bystanders. He carried her straight toward the Maybach.

The driver immediately pulled open the rear door. Holland shoved her struggling body into the luxurious interior.

Keeley scrambled toward the opposite door to escape, but Holland's massive frame was already inside. He slammed the door shut behind him.

The locks clicked with a sharp snap. Keeley was completely trapped in the airtight, opulent space.

"Dr. Evans' private clinic on the Upper East Side," Holland ordered the driver coldly.

Keeley pressed herself into the furthest corner of the leather seat. She glared at him with terrified, defensive eyes, like a wounded hedgehog.

Holland looked at the unnatural, feverish flush on her cheeks. He let out a heavy sigh.

Suddenly, he leaned forward. Ignoring her kicks and pushes, he dragged her forcefully into his broad chest.

He took off his cashmere overcoat-still warm from his body-and wrapped her up tightly like a cocoon.

Trapped in his embrace, surrounded by the heavy scent of cedarwood, Keeley felt a sickening, fatal sense of safety.

She wanted to bite his shoulder to protest, but the fever finally drained the very last drop of her energy.

Holland's large hand gently pressed against the back of her head, tucking her face into his chest.

Listening to his steady, powerful heartbeat as the Maybach drove smoothly through the city, Keeley's consciousness slipped into complete darkness.