Franz stirred slightly, his eyes slowly opening as the blinding sunlight struck his face. His left arm felt heavy, and to his surprise, a young woman was sleeping soundly on it.

“Who is this woman?” he thought, stunned, trying to recall what had happened the night before. His memories were hazy, but fragments of an intense night flashed through his mind, making his headache worse.

“Isn’t this my room? Why is she here?” Franz murmured softly. He vaguely remembered feeling dizzy after drinking something handed to him by the barista at the company party the previous night.

Suddenly, the silence was broken by the sound of a ringing phone. Carefully, he moved away from the woman, leapt off the bed quietly, and headed toward a pair of pants lying nearby. His phone was vibrating inside the pocket, fueling his anxiety. He pulled it out and walked into the bathroom.

“Hello?”“Sir, where are you right now?”“I’m in my room,” Franz replied, quickly putting on his clothes while still holding the phone.“That can’t be, sir. I’m at your suite right now, and you’re not here. Are you—”

Franz's eyes widened. He looked around the room once more and realized something was off. It wasn’t his suite.

“Sir?”

He abruptly ended the call and set the phone down on the bathroom sink. He splashed water on his face to calm himself and returned to the room, gazing at the sleeping woman—still completely uncovered by the blanket. Franz ran a frustrated hand through his hair and moved closer, trying to recall where he might have seen her before.

She looked familiar, yet her identity eluded him. As she shifted slightly in her sleep, he quickly turned around out of respect. The blanket had slipped, revealing faint red marks on her skin—proof of a night filled with physical closeness. Embarrassed, Franz gently pulled the blanket up to cover her again. Just then, he caught the glint of a ring on her finger.

“You’re married?” he whispered in disbelief. His heart sank.

“Whoever you are… I will take responsibility.”

He took out his phone and discreetly snapped a photo of her face—not to expose her, but to remember. Then he scribbled his number on a tissue and placed it on the nightstand. Before leaving, he leaned in and gently kissed the top of her head with quiet sincerity.

Emelie opened her eyes slowly, blinking against the sharp sunlight. It was already ten in the morning. She sat up groggily, but something felt wrong.

Her eyes widened in shock. She had gone to bed fully dressed, and now she was completely naked. Her body was covered in faint marks, especially around her chest.

“What happened to me…?” she whispered. Her memories were jumbled, but they gradually returned—her heartbreak, the bar, the drink, the man’s commanding gaze. And then… she had surrendered herself.

Tears welled in her eyes—not out of shame, but sorrow.“How could I let myself fall so low?” she said aloud with a bitter chuckle. She pressed her hands to her face, the weight of it all crushing down on her. Her wedding had been a dream, until her fiancé fled with all their savings, leaving her abandoned.

The night before had been a blur—yet his deep voice remained vivid in her mind. She hadn’t resisted, but she hadn’t fully understood either.

Standing before the bathroom mirror, she looked at her reflection with disbelief.“I’ve lost everything… even my dignity.”

She had always imagined her first time would be sacred—something shared with the man she loved after marriage. But that dream had been shattered. Her mind and body were now at odds. She shook her head, trying to dismiss the rising warmth and confusing thoughts.

She stepped into the shower, letting cold water pour down her skin, hoping to wash away the confusion. But even the chill couldn’t erase the memory of his embrace—the strange sense of safety she had felt, if only for a moment.

Meanwhile, Franz was on his way to the Hurwizt family mansion. He knew exactly why his presence was requested. His father never summoned him without reason.

His appearance was flawless—tailored suit, neatly slicked-back hair, and a sharp gaze that radiated silent authority. Though he wasn’t officially the CEO of Hurwizt Hotel yet, he carried himself like one.

“Sergio. Do not mention anything about this morning to anyone. I want everything kept quiet,” Franz instructed his personal driver.“Yes, Sir.”

Franz silently studied the iPad in his lap, reviewing Hurwizt Hotel's fluctuating stock graphs. He noted every weakness with keen eyes, determined to resolve them once he was in charge. He had just returned from an extended absence—a secret, intensive treatment for his previously unstable mental health. A past he now kept buried.

“We’ve arrived, Sir,” Sergio announced as the luxury car passed through the mansion’s towering gates. The estate stood grand and timeless, its architecture echoing classical Greek elegance.

“It’s drizzling outside, Sir. I’ll fetch the umbrella.” Sergio stepped out swiftly, ensuring not a single raindrop touched his master.

The mansion staff greeted Franz with synchronized bows. Without pausing, he changed into indoor slippers and strode toward the dining room. A lavish breakfast was laid out—elegant, but devoid of warmth.

At the table sat Elija Salvatore Hurwizt, Franz’s father—a man of steel discipline. Beside him was Franz’s stepmother, her gentle eyes watching him. Franz gave her no acknowledgment. To him, she was nothing more than an intruder in the Hurwizt lineage.

“You’re thirty minutes late. The food has been reheated. Sit and eat,” Elija ordered flatly.

Franz sat in silence. The only sounds were the clinking of silverware.

“Where were you last night? You disappeared without informing anyone. How am I supposed to entrust the main hotel to you if you’re so careless?” Elija asked, sipping wine.

“I went back to my room,” Franz replied calmly. “Regarding the hotel—I believe it’s time. The shares are dropping. I need to act before it worsens.”

“Still planning to live at the hotel? Isn’t this mansion large enough for you?”

“For now, yes. I want to observe everything firsthand. I’m launching a promotional campaign for Christmas and New Year—discounts, packages.”

“Do you want a public event to announce your new position as CEO?”

“That won’t be necessary. Let people think you’re still in charge. I’ll start from the bottom—as part of the marketing team.”

“You? In marketing?” Elija gave a faint chuckle.

“Yes. I want to understand the system from the ground up.”

After the discussion, Franz visited his late mother’s neglected rose garden. Many of the once-beautiful blooms had wilted. He stood still, a cigarette between his fingers, watching the smoke trail upward.

But his thoughts weren’t on flowers. They were on her.

The woman.

Still no message. No call from an unknown number. But the memory of her lingered vividly—like a scar that hadn’t fully formed.

“Whoever you are… I won’t forget you.”

***

Emelie hadn’t gone to work for almost three days. She had taken sudden leave after the unexpected night that had shaken her. Aside from needing time to process everything, she also wanted to avoid the flood of questions she knew she’d get about her failed wedding.

Even now, she kept calling Matthew’s number, begging for an explanation. Her body curled up on the couch, unmoving. She hadn’t done anything in days. Empty food containers and beer cans were scattered on the table, and the simple pre-wedding photo she'd once proudly hung on the wall had been taken down.

"I'm really that bad? Is that why everything fell apart?" Emelie muttered, staring at the ceiling. Tears began falling from her eyes once more.

She glanced at the ring still wrapped around her finger. She had thought about throwing it away the moment Matthew canceled their wedding, but the heartbreak and lingering love made it too hard for her to let go — even when her pride had already been torn apart.

The doorbell rang several times. Emelie slowly got up and trudged to the door to see who it was. A courier stood there with a large black-wrapped package. She didn’t have to guess; she already knew what was inside.

“Thank you for delivering this. Here’s a tip,” Emelie said, handing the courier a few bills before dragging the large framed object inside.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Emelie didn’t respond. Just as she was closing the door, the property owner of the apartment called out to her.

“Emelie,” said Sabrina, the woman who owned the property.

“Mrs. Sabrina? Is something wrong?” Emelie asked, trying to hide the exhaustion and sadness in her expression.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you for the past three days. But you looked unwell and hadn’t been to work. I waited, but now I need to tell you something important,” Sabrina said, adjusting her expensive bag.

“Please come in,” Emelie offered, opening the door wider.

“No need. I’ll be brief. Emelie, this apartment has been sold. I can’t keep renting it out to you and Matthew. You’ll need to start packing and find somewhere else to stay,” she said bluntly.

“Renting? I bought this apartment. Paid in full,” Emelie replied, rubbing her temples.

“That’s impossible. Matthew said he was only renting it for three months. He even asked for a discount. Where is he now?”

“He’s not here. In fact… it’s like he’s vanished,” Emelie answered, her tone flat.

“Really? Weren’t you two getting married?”

“The wedding’s off. He deceived me and just disappeared. But don’t worry, I’ll be out soon,” Emelie said, gripping the door tightly. She couldn’t take more of this. Her grief seemed endless.

Sabrina leaned closer and whispered, “There’s one more thing. Matthew was with me. He approached me first, and I gave in. He said… you couldn’t satisfy him.”

“You should be grateful the wedding was canceled. A man like Matthew isn’t for a naive girl like you. He needs someone who can match him.” Sabrina gave a sly smile and left.

Emelie’s composure broke.

She slammed the door shut, rushed into the kitchen, grabbed a knife, and returned to the canvas photo of her and Matthew that had just arrived. With uncontainable rage, she shredded Matthew’s face from the picture until it was almost unrecognizable.

Sabrina’s words echoed in her head: “Naive girl.” No wonder she was so easily deceived.

***

“Have you found any information about that woman?” Franz asked Sergio, whom he had assigned to investigate the woman he had slept with four nights ago.

Sergio handed him a black folder, complete with address details and photos, as proof of the thorough investigation.

Franz flipped through each page carefully, scanning every line of Emelie Beatrice’s profile. He hadn’t expected that Emelie had been working for quite a while at the Hurwizt Hotel as the Finance Manager. No wonder her name sounded familiar. Franz couldn’t shake the memory of her innocent eyes burning with passion that night.

But one fact made Franz clench his jaw — the name of Emelie’s fiancé. That man was no stranger to him. He didn’t finish reading. Slamming the file shut, Franz shoved it into his drawer.

“Matthew... the man engaged to Miss Emelie. What does he do? Is he someone powerful, someone who could stand on my level?” Franz asked, fingers steepled over the glass table, his intense gaze fixed on Sergio.

“Do you want me to investigate Miss Emelie’s fiancé, sir?” Sergio asked, standing tall with his hands behind his back.

“No. He’s not worth it. I just wanted to know his job,” Franz replied sharply, adjusting his tie which now felt like it was strangling him.

“But Miss Emelie and her fiancé have—”

Sergio stopped mid-sentence as he saw Franz rise from his seat. Quickly, Sergio followed behind, sensing Franz was preparing to go somewhere.

“I need to see Miss Emelie. Is she working today?”

“No, sir. Miss Emelie has been on leave since that day,” Sergio answered, pressing the elevator button.

“Then take me to her apartment. I’ll congratulate her... and give her compensation to keep her quiet about that night.”

Franz left the hotel with Sergio. Before that, he had asked Sergio to bring a stack of money and place it inside a suitcase — a peace offering for Emelie as an apology for unexpected event.

"Does she regret that night? Regret sleeping with me?" Franz thought as they drove. "What if she's pregnant? I don't remember using protection that night."

***

A single sheet of white paper lay on the coffee table. Emelie’s apartment was in chaos. Suitcases lined the edge of the sofa, and several cardboard boxes filled with her belongings were stacked neatly near the front door.

Emelie had officially been evicted.

It wasn’t surprising when the eviction notice arrived last night. The new owner would be moving in soon. Emelie could only laugh bitterly, realizing how foolish she had been to place her full trust in her fiancé. Or rather—her ex-fiancé. Look at what he left her with. Emelie truly believed that the apartment they had shared was bought for her. In reality, Matthew had only rented it for a few months.

"Don’t cry, Emelie. It’s okay. You can still find a small place to stay for a few days," she whispered to herself, trying to stay strong as her eyes scanned the remaining balance in her bank account.

She lifted her head, fighting the tears threatening to fall again. Her feet carried her toward the pantry. Emelie opened the fridge and pulled out the last few remaining ingredients.

"At the very least, feed yourself—even if your heart is breaking," she said quietly while washing vegetables and beginning to prepare lunch.

She ate a simple meal—bacon with soft-boiled eggs, salad, and a glass of leftover orange juice. Silence filled the room, broken only by the gentle clinking of cutlery against the glass plate.

She brought one bite after another to her lips until she reached the last piece of bacon. Her hands paused. Suddenly, Matthew’s image appeared before her—smiling, leaning in, and opening his mouth playfully.

"I want some too," he said, like he always did when asking for her last bite.

Emelie froze. Matthew had always loved the fatty parts of bacon she avoided for the sake of her diet.

"I love your cooking. I love you, Emelie."

He reached out, wiping the sauce from the corner of her mouth, and kissed her lips softly.

"I love you too, Matthew," Emelie whispered back.

And just like that—he vanished.

Her tears returned. It had only been a hallucination, a cruel trick of her mind. Her heart had loved him too much to recognize the deception all along.

She looked down at the delicate diamond ring still on her finger—a gift from Matthew. Slowly, she slipped it off.

"I’ll sell this ring… I have to survive," she murmured. Emelie never liked selling gifts. She valued every small token given to her. But this time, Matthew had left her with no reason to hold on.

Without washing the dishes, she grabbed her bag and coat, hurrying out. Her destination: a jewelry store still open for a few more hours.

She chose to walk—saving what little money she had. The store wasn’t exactly nearby, but Emelie pressed on with quiet determination.

After more than forty minutes of walking, her lips curled into a faint smile when she saw the signboard of a jewelry store she had never entered before. Not because she couldn’t afford jewelry, but because every penny she had was saved for her wedding. A wedding that would never happen.

The door was opened by a neatly dressed staff member. Emelie stepped inside cautiously, adjusting her glasses for no real reason—just a nervous habit.

“Good afternoon, Miss. How may I help you?”

Emelie nodded and pulled out a small box from her coat pocket. “I’d like to sell this ring.”

“Certainly. May I verify its authenticity first?”

“Of course. I’ll wait.”

The staff began testing the ring with a gold analyzer. After several failed readings, she applied a drop of nitric acid. Right before their eyes, the ring’s color dulled into a faded reddish hue. What had looked like white gold with a sparkling diamond… was fake.

“Miss…”

Emelie approached, eyes widening as she saw the discoloration.

“I’m sorry, but this ring is not real.”

“That’s impossible. I’m sure it’s real gold… I’ve worn it for over a year,” she insisted.

“I’m afraid this is the result.”

Emelie clenched her fists, swallowing her embarrassment as she took back the counterfeit ring. She left the store in silence, her chest heavy with disappointment.

Everything Matthew gave her was a lie.

As she walked home, Emelie could no longer hold back her frustration. Her grip tightened around the fake ring, and without thinking, she hurled it into the air—without looking, without caring.

She continued walking quickly, refusing to look back.

Elsewhere, a man sat calmly in the back of a sleek black car. Franz had just received his lunch when a small metallic clink landed on the floor mat.

He looked down, spotting something shiny on the car’s carpet.

"What’s this?" he muttered, reaching for it.

He picked up a small ring, turning it over in his fingers. Inside was a simple engraving—a cursive letter E.

“Was this thrown away, or lost?” Franz whispered to himself. He tucked the ring into his jacket pocket just as the car door opened.

“Sir, your lunch is ready,” said Donce, his driver.

“Hm,” Franz responded with a soft hum.

The car began to move, but Franz’s thoughts stayed behind. Emelie’s face wouldn’t leave his mind. He had already begun searching for information about her, and what he found weighed heavily on his conscience—an orphan, mistreated at her workplace, and now abandoned.

Something inside Franz stirred: A need to protect her.