BRUSSELS, BELGIUM

A smile had never left Emelie Beatrice's lips all day. She was full of excitement as her wedding day drew near. During her break, she took a moment to write down the names of hotel colleagues she would invite to her wedding. Her childhood dreams were slowly coming true - from working at a prestigious place to now planning to marry at one of the five-star Hurwizt hotels in the heart of Brussels.

"Emelie, aren't you coming to the cafeteria?" asked Delia, one of the sales marketing staff and a close friend of hers.

"Thanks, Delia. I already had breakfast this morning. I think I need to cut back a little before the wedding," Emelie replied with a gentle smile.

"You still want to diet? Your body's already slim, Emelie. Think of Matthew-he might not know what to hold on to on your wedding night," Delia said bluntly. She was known for speaking her mind without much filter.

"You should get plastic surgery . I know a reliable doctor if you're interested," she added with a wink before quickly leaving after seeing Emelie's sharp glare.

Emelie let out a sigh, stretching her arms slightly. She had been working at Hurwizt for nearly three years as a financial manager. Despite the hardships, she endured it all to save for her wedding.

Lately, however, something had felt off. For the past three days, her fiancé Matthew hadn't been in touch - quite unusual, since he always managed to send a message or video call her even briefly. Emelie knew he'd been busy with his work as an architect, and just a week ago, he had flown to Bogotá.

She kept sending him messages, calling multiple times. All she wanted was a little reassurance from the man she loved.

"Baby... are you okay? Why is it so hard to reach you?"

Emelie typed another message and sent it. The message was only marked with one check mark - and a few minutes later, it changed to "read."

"I'm sorry, love. I've been busy. I'll call when I get a moment. I love you, Emelie."

Her eyes sparkled with relief as she read Matthew's reply. All her doubts faded away in an instant. She felt calm again, trusting in Matthew's love.

"I love you more, Matt!"

That short message was her reply. She put away her phone just as Monica - a woman seventeen years her senior and the trusted manager of the Hurwizt Hotel - approached her.

"Emelie, are you busy?" Monica asked in her usual flat tone. Her blood-red lipstick and cold expression left no trace of warmth.

"No, Miss. Do you need something?" Emelie stood straight, slightly bowing her head.

"Good. I need you to work late tonight. I want the annual financial report redone. I need it finished by tomorrow morning, if possible. I believe in you, Emelie. Can you do that?"

"I'm sorry, Miss. But didn't I already submit that report two weeks ago?"

"Yes. But it's gone, and it's best that you redo it," Monica replied, rolling her eyes slightly.

"Understood, Miss Monica. I'll work on it and hand it over first thing tomorrow."

It wasn't easy for Emelie to redo everything from scratch. She barely moved from her chair, munching on a piece of bread and sipping warm coffee Delia had brought her. Time passed, coworkers went home one by one, and the office grew quiet. Even Delia complained when she heard Emelie was staying behind to work late.

Still, Emelie wasn't scared - just afraid of making a mistake in the numbers on her screen.

Most computers were off, except hers. She rubbed the bridge of her nose. The report was nearly complete; she only needed to print and file it on Monica's desk.

Her hazel eyes glanced at the diamond ring on her finger - the one Matthew had given her on Christmas Eve, during his heartfelt proposal. It still felt surreal that someone could love her so deeply. She had never known love growing up. Her father was a drunk and a cheater. Her mother had cancer and died five years ago.. Emelie was still young when her mother died, and since then, she had survived on her own. She worked hard to support herself through school and life.

Matthew was the first person who had taught her what love really was - not through material things, but with genuine care and affection, something she'd never received from her father.

She completed her work at 9 PM. After waiting quite a while for a taxi, one finally stopped for her. She leaned back and closed her eyes once they left the hotel. Her body was drained. It wasn't the job, salary, or position that exhausted her - it was dealing with her boss, Monica, that wore her down the most.

"Thank you," Emelie said, handing over the taxi fare.

She stepped out and stared at the apartment she had bought a year ago - her dream place. It was meant to be the home she and Matthew would share after their wedding. She entered a special number combination - their anniversary date - and the door clicked open. The lights turned on automatically as she walked inside. Everything was in place. The space was cozy, and the modern furniture made her smile.

She walked into the master bedroom - or rather, their bedroom, as the apartment only had two: one for them, and the other a shared walk-in closet.

After stripping off her clothes, she stood under the shower, letting the warm water wash away the stress of the day.

"You should be here, Matt. I'm using your favorite-scented soap," She mumbled with a small smile. She imagined Matthew would hug her tightly.

Matthew really appreciates her. He doesn't ask for more than a hug and a kiss, she is grateful to have found a man like Matthew. And she can't imagine having a sweet marriage like her wedding dream.

After her shower, she headed to the kitchen, pulling out ingredients for a salad and some lean beef - her current diet to ensure her wedding dress would still fit perfectly.

****

The hotel was unusually busy today. The ballroom had been decorated with flowers for the hotel's 10th anniversary celebration. Everyone was bustling around with tasks. Emelie, now working a different role, was arranging name cards for the guests. She felt awkward among the more experienced partygoers - especially compared to Matthew, who was known for his charisma and vast social circle. He often attended office parties and events.

Emelie wore a simple black dress and left her hair down. Her makeup was minimal, except for her dark red lipstick - a bold change from her usual pink shades.

She had wanted to skip the event, but Monica and Delia had pushed her to come. Her thoughts were muddled. Last night, during a call with Matthew, she had heard a woman whisper "Honey" in the background.

When she asked him about it, he snapped, saying it was just a coworker who happened to be on the phone with him too.

"Come on, Emelie. What's wrong with trusting your fiancé for once? You're just being jealous," she told herself while staring at her reflection in the restroom mirror.

As she was about to leave the restroom, a familiar voice called out.

"Emelie!"

"Gabriela," Emelie replied with a faint smile.

"Emelie, I was just about to call you. I didn't expect we'd meet tonight. Can we talk?" Gabriela gently touched Emelie's arm, trying to read her expression.

"Of course. Is there something wrong with the wedding preparations?" Emelie trusted Gabriela, her wedding planner, to handle everything.

"Are you sure things are okay between you and your fiancé?" Gabriela asked, ignoring the question.

"Yes, of course. Matthew and I are doing fine. We spoke last night," Emelie replied calmly, though her heart was pounding.

"There's been a complication. Two days ago, Matthew contacted me... and he said something that shocked me," Gabriela said carefully.

"What do you mean? What did Matthew say?" Emelie asked, voice rising with panic.

"He canceled the wedding, Emelie," Gabriela said in a low voice, watching the tears well up in Emelie's wide, shocked eyes.

"No! That's not true. Matthew and I would never cancel our wedding. There must be some mistake," Emelie backed away, shaking her head.

"I didn't believe it either... until I saw this," Gabriela said, showing Emelie photos and videos of Matthew with another woman at her office, requesting the wedding be canceled.

Emelie's world shattered as she stared at the evidence. She couldn't speak. Her body trembled as her tears fell uncontrollably.

"Didn't Matthew tell you anything?" Gabriela asked gently, placing a hand on Emelie's shoulder as she collapsed to the floor.

Emelie shook her head, sobbing. Her chest felt tight, her voice lost. She never imagined this would be her fate - so heartbroken, humiliated.

"Did he take the money, too?" Emelie asked.

"Yes. Matthew took everything. The only thing that couldn't be refunded was the hotel suite," Gabriela replied, her own voice full of guilt.

Devastated, Emelie drank glass after glass of golden liquid handed to her by a waiter. She didn't care anymore. Tears kept streaming down her cheeks.

She tried calling Matthew again and again - dozens, then hundreds of times. But he never picked up. Her phone finally died from low battery.

"Stop drinking, Emelie. You're drunk," Delia scolded, snatching away another glass.

"What's wrong with you? Are you upset because Matthew isn't answering?" Delia probed, seeing how distraught Emelie had become.

"I have to go, Delia," Emelie said, brushing her off and stumbling away, refusing help.

Tears streamed down her face as she walked down the hotel corridor. Her heart was in pieces. She decided to spend the night in the presidential suite - the very room meant for her wedding night, now the witness of her ruin.

Elsewhere, a man was stumbling down the hallway. Franz's head was spinning, his body burning. He tore off his expensive jacket and loosened his bowtie, overwhelmed. He had no idea what drink had done this to him - or maybe it was the taste of freedom after being released from that cursed white room. His mind was filled with images of a gorgeous woman hug him.

He reached his room, swiping his card repeatedly, but the door wouldn't open. Frustrated, he pounded on the door. Just as he was about to give up, the door opened. Standing there was a blurry but incredibly gorgeous woman - wet hair cascading down her back, wearing only a white shirt.

Desire surged within him, his eyes narrowing with a sharp, intense glint. Without a second thought, he grabbed the woman’s wrist and pulled her toward him, pressing his lips against hers in a sudden, impulsive kiss. One of his hands moved to the back of her neck, holding her close, even though her face remained a blur in his vision. He didn’t care that they were strangers—Franz continued the kiss, undeterred by her tense reaction, drawn to her presence.

He felt small blows against his chest, but Franz ignored them, pushing her back into the hotel room and closing the door with his foot.

Emelie was stunned by the sudden kiss. Just as she was about to leave the room, she was forced back inside. The man’s strength overwhelmed her, leaving her with no chance to cry out.

She fell back onto the bed, the man—twice her size—looming over her, still kissing her with intensity. Emelie struggled to break free, hitting his chest repeatedly while trying to stop his hands from moving further.

“D-Don’t do this!” Emelie cried out, her breath unsteady.

No matter how hard she tried to resist, Franz didn’t back down. There was something about her presence that pulled him in strongly. He glanced at Emelie’s face for a moment, as if trying to convince himself.

“Trust me, I won’t hurt you,” Franz whispered gently near her ear.

This time, Franz let himself be carried away by emotion. He knew that what he was doing might lead to regret, but that night, his mind was overwhelmed by confusion and an emotional storm he couldn’t control.

Emelie, who had been panicking and trying to break free, eventually went silent. A mix of fear, confusion, and exhaustion filled her. The man’s deep and steady voice left her uncertain about continuing to resist.

Slowly, Franz released his grip. He looked at Emelie with a deep gaze, then sat at the edge of the bed in silence. No words were exchanged—only quietness filled the room.

The night passed in silence. Emelie stayed awake, feeling uneasy and unsure of what had just happened. Franz soon fell asleep, while Emelie lay staring at the ceiling, her mind racing to make sense of it all.

“You’re mine. I’m the only one who will protect you,” his voice echoed in her memory.

***