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?

Top floor, sky garden.

The air was crisp, the setting elegant. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air, curling lightly from the pot.

Prescott lounged lazily on a wicker couch, morning light casting a golden hue across his features. Under the sun, his light-reflecting eyes looked even deeper, like the sea-distant, mysterious, and impossible to look away from.

From a distance, Beckett Fraser walked over. The relaxed look on Prescott's face made Beckett think he was in a good mood-must have something to do with the young woman he brought back last night, right?

After all, when everyone saw him carrying her out of the car, the whole place practically buzzed. It was the first time in two years he had ever brought a woman home. Naturally, people got curious and started whispering guesses about her identity.

"Sir, I've got the file on the lady here. Everything's been looked into; you might want to take a look."

Beckett approached with a folder in hand and passed it over respectfully.

Prescott took it, flipped through casually, his slender fingers brushing over the pages, skimming quickly.

"Camila Harrington. That's quite the name."

"Yes, sir. Very unique. Her mother named her after a girl who saved her life during an accident-someone who showed up like a guardian angel and disappeared without a trace. Later, when she found out she was pregnant, she chose the name Camila-after a figure in Latin folklore known for purity, grace, and protection."

"Huh. That's actually kind of interesting." Prescott handed the file back, took a sip of coffee, and asked, "The doctor's been notified?"

"Yes, sir. All the doctors are on standby. As soon as Miss Harrington arrives, they can start the examination."

"Good." Prescott set the cup down. "Tell Paul Hartwell to stop looking for another candidate-it's her."

"But sir, she hasn't even been cleared yet. What if-"

"There won't be a 'what if.'" Prescott cut him short. "The background check's already thorough enough. If there were health issues, they'd be in the file."

"Understood. I'll get it done right away." Beckett gave a nod and backed out.

Meanwhile, Camila was being led upstairs by a housekeeper just as Beckett came down.

She didn't know who he was, but seeing how respectful the staff were around him, and how well put-together he looked-tailored suit, refined demeanor, clean-cut good looks-she assumed he was the owner of the place.

Beckett noticed the assumption in her eyes and smiled knowingly.

"Miss Harrington, welcome. I'm the steward of this estate. If you ever need anything, just let me know. The master's been waiting for you upstairs-best not keep him too long."

Camila was caught off guard. A steward this refined? Just how influential was the man who owned this estate?

She felt a flicker of nerves, though she kept them hidden. Offering a polite smile, she said, "Thank you for the heads-up, sir."

The housekeeper led her to the top floor.

The smell of coffee hit her first, rich and inviting. The garden was beautifully arranged with all kinds of plants, the breeze rustling through them filling the air with freshness-it was the kind of peace that made people want to just take a deep breath and soak it all in.

Clearly, whoever lived here had a serious taste for the good life.

While Camila was taking in the space, the housekeeper slipped away quietly.

Because of the angle she was standing at, Camila hadn't noticed the dining table set up on the high platform. Just as she turned around, a deep, smooth voice came from behind.

"What are you spacing out for? Come over here."

She jumped a little. That voice...

She quickly turned around. "It's you!"