"Welcome, Ms. Emelie. I hope you like your new apartment."

Emelie only nodded slightly, without a word. Her hand received the cold key as if that small object symbolized a life she had to start over—alone.

After the landlord left and the sound of his footsteps faded down the hallway, Emelie remained standing in the doorway. Silent. Her eyes looked into the room ahead, but her mind was blank. As if her body was present, but her soul was still trapped in a past she hadn’t fully left behind.

The tears came again, unstoppable. She slowly sat down on the dusty floor, covering her mouth with her hand so the sobs wouldn’t be heard. As if ashamed before the world, even before the mute walls around her. Her stifled cries sounded strained—like someone who had held their breath underwater for far too long.

The apartment… felt more like an abandoned building than a place to live. Dust gathered in every corner, peeling wallpaper looked like the scabs of unhealed wounds, and old newspapers lay scattered as if recording a time that had long stopped. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling, seeming to be the only permanent residents.

Yet in the midst of her despair, Emelie tried to hold on.

"Emelie, the walls are nice… you just need a little renovation," she whispered softly, almost like begging herself not to fall apart. She wiped away the tears drying on her cheeks and dragged her suitcase toward the bedroom, her steps heavy but forward-moving.

The apartment was small. One bedroom, a living room that opened directly into a narrow kitchen. But this time, size didn’t matter. What mattered was that it was hers—for now, but still hers.

When she opened the bedroom door, the atmosphere felt a little better. Calmer. There was still a sofa, though no bed could be found anywhere. An old wardrobe stood in the corner, its door ajar as if waiting to be filled again—with new hopes.

“I’ll start everything from scratch,” Emelie said, this time with a hint of strength in her voice. She took a deep breath and began to move. She started cleaning what she could. Throwing away the trash of the past, sweeping up the shards of disappointment, mopping the floor with her own hands as if cleansing the space for a new chapter of her life.

Finally, she stood in the bathroom. There, in front of the foggy mirror, she looked at her own reflection. Swollen eyes, tangled hair, and a small smile slowly forming.

Not perfect, but real.

Because for the first time in a long while—Emelie felt… she could survive.

On the other side of the same city, in a tall building with large glass windows overlooking the night sky, Franz sat alone in his office.

The chandelier lit the luxurious room, but none of that luxury touched his heart tonight. In his hand, a small object sparkled under the light—a ring he had found in his car a few days ago.

He rolled the ring between his fingers, his eyes fixed on the small engraved letter E inside it. For some reason, he couldn’t stop thinking about its owner.

“Emelie…” he murmured softly, speaking the name that had recently appeared in the results of his personal background search.

How was she living now? Was she hurt? What were her days like? These questions kept haunting Franz. The fleeting glimpses into Emelie’s life only fueled his growing obsession to protect her.

Franz had never cared about anyone—not enough to investigate them. But Emelie was different. There was something about her, a quiet fragility that silently awakened the protector in him. Something foreign, even to himself.

His driver, Sergio, entered the room carrying a file and an envelope.

“This is the report, sir. About Emelie’s apartment. She moved in three days ago to a unit that used to belong to Mr. Lawson, an elderly man. The place had been abandoned for years.”

Franz took the file and opened the first page. A photo of Emelie carrying a suitcase. Her face looked tired, yet resilient.

A faint smile crossed Franz’s lips.

“Find a way to have the apartment renovated. But make sure she doesn’t know it’s from us,” Franz said without looking up.

Sergio nodded. “It will be done tonight.”

Franz clenched the ring tightly in his hand, then tucked it back into the pocket of his suit.

“You mean nothing to me, Emelie. And yet… I still want you to be safe.”

Emelie woke up curled on an old sofa, using only her arm as a pillow. Her whole body felt exhausted, but today she had to return to work—no matter how many pitying eyes would fall on her.

She let out another heavy sigh as she glanced around her apartment. How many more things did she need to buy and fix? Her savings were running low, and the end of the month still felt far away.

Stacks of cardboard boxes remained untouched. She had only taken out a few clothes for today. After freshening up and applying light makeup, Emelie once again became the career woman who appeared full of energy. Her dark days couldn't be erased from her mind, but today she chose to face the day with determination. No wound heals instantly—but wounds do heal with time. If Emelie didn’t take steps to walk through the storm, she would forever be trapped in the sorrow that would only ruin her life.

This time, her commute was longer than usual, taking a different bus route. After getting off at the stop, she had to walk several more meters to reach the main building—Hotel Hurwizt, marked by a winged horse symbolizing the glory of the five-star hotel. A magnificent building in the heart of the city, with towering pillars and interiors rivaling European palaces.

Emelie’s steps echoed softly but steadily down the long corridor of the staff floor. The scent of coffee and expensive perfume mingled with the cool breeze from the air conditioning. Every corner of this building radiated luxury, and Emelie—though only a finance staff member—still felt proud to be part of the system that kept this hotel standing in perfection.

But today, her steps felt heavier than usual.

She hadn't even had the chance to sit down when a soft but clear voice from across the desk greeted her.

“Emelie… what happened to you? Why did you disappear and become so hard to reach?” asked Greta, a friendly team member who was often a little too nosy.

Emelie smiled, trying to appear casual. “I was sick, but I’m better now,” she replied, forcing a small smile.

But Greta wasn’t done. “I’m so sorry to hear about your cancelled wedding. I only just heard from Delia. She said it was called off suddenly? Whose fault was it?”

Emelie froze for a moment. The questions began to slow in her ears. A few coworkers glanced over, pretending not to listen, but clearly eavesdropping.

She took a slow breath, then sat at her desk and turned on her computer.

“It’s true. The wedding was cancelled. No one was at fault—we just decided we weren’t ready to get married,” she replied calmly, though her hands trembled slightly beneath the desk.

“Oh my God. I’m so sorry, but it’s okay, Emelie. That was the right decision—better than regretting it later.”

The words hit like a thorn. Emelie only responded with a small nod. If only she had seen Matthew’s true nature sooner, she would have made this decision much earlier.

***

“But I heard her fiancé ran away with all the wedding money,” whispered a voice from two desks behind her.

“Where did you hear that?”

“I overheard it in the restroom that night—Emilie was sobbing after a woman told her.”

Several others chimed in, pretending to offer encouragement, but Emilie knew that behind their motivational words was an insatiable curiosity. It was as if they were all waiting for a bigger drama to unfold in her life.

She tried to concentrate on the hotel restaurant renovation budget spreadsheet, but her focus was shattered. The silent stare from one of the supervisors only added to her discomfort.

Unable to take it any longer, Emelie stood up, grabbed an empty folder, and pretended to head toward the photocopier outside the office. She held back her tears, but as soon as she stepped out of the workroom, Delia appeared with a sorrowful expression, eyes full of concern.

“Let’s go to the rooftop,” Delia said, taking Emelie’s hand. Emilie followed without saying a word.

They made their way to the highest floor of Hotel Hurwizt. A gentle breeze welcomed her, strands of hair whipping across her face, her chest filling with fresh oxygen—and with it, her tears could no longer be held back. She wept in front of Delia, who remained silent, gently rubbing Emelie’s back in a quiet attempt to comfort her shattered friend.

“Forget that him That thief doesn’t deserve your kindness!” Delia shout, trying to lift Emelie’s spirits.

Hearing Delia mention her virginity made Emilie feel even more suffocated. She had suffered a greater misfortune—she had lost her virginity to a man she didn’t even know. Whether they would ever meet again remained a mystery, but one thing was certain: her life had been struck by a streak of terrible luck.

“Stop crying! You still love him! Open your eyes, Emelie. Look forward—there’s a brighter future waiting for you. Maybe your soulmate is a rich man with enough wealth to last seven generations. Who knows?”

A wave of dizziness hit her. Emelie’s eating habits had been a mess these past few days. Her slender fingers gripped the railing tightly while the other hand massaged her temple.

“Emelie, are you okay?” Delia asked, crouching slightly and gripping Emelie's shoulders in concern.

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“Have you eaten?”

Emelie shook her head. She knew why she felt dizzy, but she didn’t want Delia to worry.“I’m fine, Delia. Let’s go back—we still have a lot of work to do,” she replied, squeezing Delia’s hand with a reassuring look.

Before Emelie could return to her desk, she was stopped by the head of the finance department.

“Emilie, can you please deliver this audit document to the CEO’s office? It needs to be signed immediately,” she said, handing over a thick folder.

Emilie nodded. “Yes, Miss.”

She carried the folder carefully and took the elevator to the top floor. That level was usually quiet, with only a few important staff passing through. The name “Franz L. Hurwizt” was elegantly displayed on the door at the end of the hallway, surrounded by expensive wooden panels and transparent glass.

The office was still very new, and Emelie felt nervous—this would be her first time meeting the heir of Hurwizt. It was unfortunate she had missed the company event due to personal chaos. Hopefully, the man behind the glass door would be more approachable than Elija Salvatore, his father.

Emelie knocked on the door hesitantly. “Excuse me… I’m from the finance department, here to deliver the audit documents.”

The door slid open automatically after a few seconds. Emelie frowned slightly as she saw the man sitting in the CEO’s chair. Nothing seemed off—his attire was sharp and professional—but was this really the heir to Hurwizt? Rumor had it that the man was young, yet the one she saw appeared more mature.

“Just leave the file there,” said Sergio calmly, looking directly at Emelie.

Emelie looked a bit confused. “Sorry for my reaction, it’s just… this is my first time meeting Mr. Franz,” she said, bowing slightly before placing the file on the glass desk.

“You’re probably surprised that I don’t resemble my father? Many say the same. But yes, I am Franz Lucien Hurwizt,” Sergio said quickly, trying to mask her doubt. “My face has never been exposed to the media.”

Behind the one-way glass in that room, in a hidden chamber only accessible through a secret panel, Franz stood silently. He watched Emelie from afar, his eyes fixed as she handed over the documents to Sergio.

His body was cloaked in shadows, but his gaze was sharp and unwavering. He had acted quickly to hide himself, asking Sergio to take his place.

“I’m not ready… to meet you yet, Emelie,” Franz thought to himself. “Now isn’t the right time.”

Sergio avoided signing the document too hastily, ensuring Emilie left without suspicion.

“I can’t sign it right now. Just leave it there—I’ll ask the secretary to handle it later,” he said with a friendly tone, staring at a laptop that wasn’t even on.

Emelie nodded slightly, still puzzled but unwilling to appear impolite. She gave a small bow and walked out calmly.

As soon as the door closed, Franz stepped out from the hidden room and approached Sergio. Sergio quickly stood up straight, surrendering the CEO chair back to Franz.

“She looks strong, just as I imagined. But her eyes… they still can’t hide the fragility,” Franz murmured.

“I really want to get close to her. But not like this.”

“Sir, how long do you plan to keep this secret? Sooner or later, Miss Emilie will find out your true identity.”

Franz was silent, then gave a slight nod. “Yes. That’s true. Sooner or later, she’ll know everything.”

Inside him, another voice whispered softly—a voice that didn’t always appear, but now felt all too real.

“You must protect her. If you can’t… then let me do it. Leave this body—you’re too weak!”

Franz closed his eyes for a moment. The voice had returned. The alter within him had resurfaced after so long. He knew all too well—his darker side was more aggressive, more possessive, and far more dangerous. For years, Franz had tried to fight it. But that side remained dominant, slowly killing the man he once was.

He tried to ignore the voice. Quickly, he swallowed the medication he had been taking for years. Franz was not fully healed. He could kill without remembering—and the next day, he would awaken with no memory of what he had done.

That side of him was cruel, and it always left its filthy stain behind.

Franz leaned heavily against the edge of his desk, his pulse racing as the medication began to settle in. The bitter aftertaste lingered in his throat, but it was a necessary evil—his only defense against the monster within.

Franz was afraid that Fred would take control of him again. He was afraid that Fred's side would ruin everything again, he didn't want Emilie to be afraid of him and think that he was evil.

"Please don't ruin everything, her has me and let me be responsible for him." Frans kept holding himself back and talking in his heart. He was sure Fred heard him.