"...I swear, you've got the wrong person." Camila's voice was shaking, almost about to crack as she tried to hold back her panic.

The cold barrel of the gun grazing her skin made her shiver uncontrollably. And with the guy standing so close, his dangerous, dark aura was suffocating.

Seriously, who pulls a gun out like it's no big deal? Was he some gang member or what?

She'd heard Meridia wasn't exactly the safest place, with shootings popping off left and right-but still, she never thought she'd actually run into one herself.

She was only twenty, hadn't even finished college yet-her life was just getting started. She didn't want to die here, not like this!

Prescott fixed his deep, unreadable eyes on her. Hearing the tremble in her voice, he narrowed his gaze slightly.

So, this audacious little woman did know how to be scared. He thought she wasn't afraid of anything.

"If you're scared, then behave yourself and answer my questions," he said flatly.

Even as he spoke, his hand didn't stop. The gun's barrel slowly traced across her smooth skin, making her flinch over and over. He leaned in closer, his handsome face exuding an unsettling calm. There wasn't any lust in his eyes-just a kind of cold amusement and indifferent cruelty.

What a jerk!

Camila was infuriated by his intrusive move, but with a freaking gun pointed at her, she had no choice but to swallow her anger.

She looked down, trying her best not to meet his gaze. His devil-may-care grin was driving her nuts; one more second looking at it and she might just deck him out of sheer rage.

"You ask," she muttered, voice dull. "I'll tell you what I know."

Prescott slid the gun out from beneath her collar, tilted it upward, and lifted her chin with the barrel. His half-lidded eyes locked onto hers-eyes wide and trembling like a startled deer.

Her eyes were large and impossibly clear, like spring water after a summer rain-dark, luminous, and strikingly defined. Her lashes were long, thick, and curled just right, the kind that seemed almost too perfect to be real.

And right now, they were trembling-delicately, helplessly-making her look even more fragile and heartbreakingly innocent.

Prescott paused-for a second, completely thrown off. His eyes stayed fixed on hers, caught in something he couldn't quite pull away from.

Too similar. If he didn't know for sure that Nina Quinn was living happily beside Alexander Blackwell, he'd almost believe those eyes had been transplanted straight from her.

But when you really looked, there were obvious differences.

Nina's eyes had always held nothing but wariness and hatred when she looked at him. In the end, she despised him.

But now, in front of him, this pair of eyes was filled with fear-yes-but not hate. No sharp resistance, no loathing. Just those trembling lashes brushing softly like feathers against something deep in his chest, making his long-frozen heart shudder unexpectedly.

Prescott's gaze darkened.

Maybe... this woman showing up was fate's twisted way of giving him something back.

Just when his body was hitting a breaking point, when he was desperate for a child to carry on his life, she appeared-these eyes so hauntingly familiar.

Camila felt her scalp prickle under his stare, unease crawling under her skin.

He seriously had her confused with someone else. Once was weird enough, but twice? Staring like this? She must really remind him of someone important.

No, no time for pointless thoughts. Get your head together, she warned herself. If she wanted to live, this was it. He was distracted-now or never.

Her hands were slick with sweat from pure nerves. This was her one shot, and if she screwed it up, it wouldn't just be a bad day-it'd be the last.

And she did it.

Faster than he could react, she yanked the gun from his hand. The cold metal was in her grip before he'd even blinked. She pointed it at him, heart thundering.

"Don't move. Hands up."

It was her first time holding a gun, and anyone saying they wouldn't be scared was lying. She tried to keep steady, but her hand was trembling like crazy, finger twitching dangerously near the trigger.

Prescott's face went even darker. That towering frame of his brought in an invisible, suffocating air pressure. The tiny elevator felt like it had dropped ten degrees, every breath thick with tension.

He stepped toward her, eyes like a storm brewing.

"I'm not exactly known for my patience," he said coldly. "And you, lady, you're poking the bear one too many times. That never ends well."

Camila had never felt her heart pound this hard in her life.

"Stop right there. Don't move or I'll shoot. I mean it! I've trained in shooting, like, seriously. I never miss."

She was on the verge of babbling. Let's be real-she'd never even held a real gun, let alone trained with one. But even so, her face stayed surprisingly calm. She might've fooled someone else with that act, but Prescott clearly wasn't that easy.

"Never miss, huh? That good? I'm intrigued."

His dark eyes narrowed dangerously, locking onto her face. His lips curled into a mocking smirk that screamed trouble.

Camila's face turned pale as a sheet. Her back was already pressed tightly against a cold metal wall-nowhere else to run.

Sweat trickled down her temple as she watched him step closer.

Her lips moved, but under the pressure of his icy aura, no words actually came out.

His breath brushed past her skin-warm, intense, leaving her totally breathless.

Prescott noticed the terror in her eyes. With one smooth motion, he reached forward and swiftly snatched the gun from her hand.

His fingers, long and steady, wrapped around the trigger. With just a twist, he spun the gun effortlessly.

To Camila, it looked like magic. The way he handled the gun made her mouth fall open in shock.

"Hah..." A low chuckle escaped his lips. His sharp gaze flicked across her stunned expression. "Seriously? Next time you want to try threatening someone with a gun, you might want to load it first."

Camila tried to say something, but out of nowhere her strength gave out. Her legs went weak and her body slumped forward, completely drained.

Just in time, a strong arm caught her around the waist.

Prescott looked down at the unconscious girl in his arms, his dark eyes deepening with something unreadable-like they could swallow you whole.

*****

Not far from the Imperial Crest Hotel, in the nearby central plaza...

On the 17th floor, a woman stood silently by the floor-to-ceiling window.

That woman was none other than Kendall-the one who had called Camila not long ago.

Her eyes were red and puffy, her expression a mix of guilt and heartbreak as she stared out at the hotel.

She clutched her phone so tightly that her knuckles had turned white.

"I'm sorry, Camila. I never meant to sell you out. I just... I just needed money for my mom's surgery. You've got such a big heart-I figured you'd understand. Trading your virginity for her life... doesn't sound so unfair, right?"

Then her phone rang.

She looked at the screen for a long moment before finally answering, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Hello..."

"Hello my ass, Kendall, you bitch! You said you'd get Camila to Room 2388-so where the hell is she? Huh? Where the fuck did she go? You think you can play games with me? Screw me over?

"I swear to God, if I don't get her, you can forget about your mom's treatment. In fact, get ready to plan her damn funeral!"

Right as Jack was about to hang up, Kendall panicked.

"Mr. Williams, you've got it wrong! I wouldn't dare mess with you even if I had a hundred lives! I did exactly what you said. I slipped that stuff you gave me into the wine she was drinking-I'm positive she drank it. I brought her to Imperial Crest Hotel just like you told me to. It's just... just that she mixed up the room number. She went to 3288, the presidential suite. I swear I'm not lying, you can check the cameras if you don't believe me..."

"Oh, I'll check alright. Kendall, if you're messing with me, you already know what's coming."

"I wouldn't dare, Mr. Williams... Hello? Hello?..."

The call ended with a dead tone. Kendall looked at her phone, her hands shaking uncontrollably.

Jack Williams, son of Braxton's mayor, was infamous for being a spoiled, relentless playboy. Cruel, dangerous, and the kind of guy no one dared to tick off.

Half a year ago, he had his sights set on Camila. He tried all sorts of tricks to get her into bed. Camila's trip to Meridia was all just to run away from him.

But Jack wasn't one to give up easily. Being rejected, humiliated-he snapped. If Camila wouldn't come quietly, he'd force her to. His plan? Drug her, get what he wanted, and then leak nudes online to completely ruin her.

And Kendall? She was Camila's college roommate from Braxton University. Her mom had recently been diagnosed with leukemia and needed a bone marrow transplant.

For a broke college student, the surgery fees might as well have been the moon. She turned to her boyfriend for help, and the guy blocked her the moment he heard how much money was needed.

Just when she hit rock bottom, Jack found her. He said: get Camila to him, and he'd cover all of her mom's medical expenses.

No discussion. He even had her mom transferred without waiting on Kendall's answer.

A best friend on one hand, her mother's life on the other... Kendall barely hesitated before choosing her mother.

Now, staring blankly out at the dazzling night lights, Kendall's fear was mixing with frustration-at Camila.

From her point of view, all of this was Camila's fault. If Camila hadn't constantly turned Jack down and embarrassed him, he wouldn't have lashed out like this. He wouldn't have used Kendall's mom against her.

Jack might have a temper, sure, but he's powerful. Tons of girls would do anything to be with him.

Camila? So what if she's pretty and smart? It's not like she came from some big-shot family. Probably just a little better off than Kendall's. So where did she get the nerve to piss off a guy like Jack?

Now with things spiraling out of control, who knows if Jack would really hurt her-or her mom.

The thought of Jack's ruthless nature made Kendall's chest tighten with panic.

She couldn't wait around. She had to find Camila before Jack completely lost it. No matter what-it had to be done.

No more hesitation. Kendall spun on her heel and ran across Central Plaza, heading straight toward Imperial Crest Hotel.

The next morning.

Sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a soft glow across the spacious white bed where a woman lay motionless.

Her long hair was spread out messily over the pillow. Under the warm light of dawn, her delicate, fair face seemed to shimmer with a golden hue. She looked calm and beautiful, with a touch of elegance.

Camila slowly opened her eyes, frowning slightly.

As soon as she saw the unfamiliar surroundings, she froze for a second. Where... was she?

The room was huge and tastefully decorated. Subtle greys blended with pale pinks, giving off a cozy, soothing vibe. Every little detail screamed luxury and deliberate design.

This definitely wasn't a hotel room. So where the hell was she?

Camila pressed her fingertips to her temples, trying hard to remember.

Right. Last night Kendall had called her out to catch a cheating boyfriend at a hotel. Then everything spiraled into one big messy misunderstanding, and somehow she'd crossed paths with a dangerously mysterious man.

She even remembered him pulling a gun on her in the elevator... and then? Her memory just blanked.

Did someone come to her rescue?

Or-horrifying thought-did that creepy man take advantage of her after she passed out?

Her heart jumped at the thought and she flung off the covers in a panic. When she saw that she was still wearing the same clothes from last night, she let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding.

Still, something didn't sit right. Not reassured, she quickly got off the bed and headed to the bathroom.

After checking herself over thoroughly, Camila finally relaxed for real. Nothing had happened. She was still unharmed.

She turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on her face before stepping out. Just then, a knock came from the door, jolting her nerves again.

"Who is it?"

"Madam, sorry to disturb you. I'm the housemaid. I brought some clothes for you."

It was a woman's voice. Camila immediately felt less tense.

"The door's open. You can come in."

An older maid walked in, balancing a tray. On it were a brand-new dress and a full set of undergarments-all clearly designer and worth a small fortune.

"Madam, these are fresh clothes Mr. Ellington asked me to prepare for you. Please feel free to get cleaned up first. He'll be waiting to have breakfast with you."

Camila frowned. "Sorry, but... where exactly am I? And who is this 'Mr.' you're talking about? Do I know him?"

"This is Mr. Ellington's private estate. He's the owner here. It's getting late, Madam, you should freshen up first. Mr. Ellington doesn't like to wait."

Clearly, the maid wasn't planning on spilling anything else. Seeing that she wasn't getting any answers, Camila gave up and silently took the clothes.

She turned and stepped into the bathroom.

Inside, everything was laid out neatly-premium toiletries, warm towels, the works. After a quick shower and some grooming, she felt a lot more human.

Looking down at the outfit-a fitted Chanel suit that hugged her just right-she couldn't stop her mind from spinning. Who was this mystery man the maid kept referring to?

And how the hell did he know her size? Even the undergarments fit like a glove.

The thought made her skin crawl a little. She patted her cheeks, trying to shake off the unease before opening the bathroom door.

"Madam, this way please," the maid greeted her with a polite smile, motioning for her to follow.

"Wait," Camila called out before they started walking. "Did you happen to see a bag? Dark blue, about this big, crossbody style?"

She gestured with her hands to show the size.

That bag meant everything to her-phone, passport, license, wallet, ID cards, pretty much her entire life was in there. If she really was still in Meridia, losing that stuff would be a nightmare.

"Don't worry, ma'am. Mr. Ellington had someone take care of your belongings. Everything's untouched."

Camila let out a quiet breath. "Thank you."

The maid led the way, and she followed, taking in the extravagant interior with every step. The hallway was insane-expensive paintings on the walls, antique decor hanging from the ceiling, even the carpet underfoot looked handcrafted and stupidly expensive.

As she walked, her slender brows furrowed unconsciously.

Who exactly was this man?

Her mind flashed back to the night before-that dangerously charming guy she'd clashed with.

Could it... be him?