The next morning Angela woke to the sound of birds chirping faintly outside her window. Sunlight streamed through the thin curtains of her hostel bedroom, casting warm, golden streaks across the modest room. She blinked, her body still heavy with sleep, and shifted slightly.

　　For a moment, she lay still, her body wrapped in a cocoon of warmth beneath her blanket. Her mind stirred with fragmented memories of the night before Edmund's touch, his whispered promises, the electric connection that had consumed them both. The ache in her muscles was a stark reminder of the night before.

　　The memory of Edmund's touch lingered, vivid and electric. The warmth of his embrace, the way their bodies had moved together, it all felt so real. She reached out, half-expecting to find him beside her. But her hand landed on the cold, empty mattress.

　　Angela frowned, sitting up abruptly, confusion gripped her. This wasn't the room she had fallen asleep in. Her eyes scanned the room. It was hers, unmistakably so. She recognized the plain furnishings of her hostel bedroom, the familiar desk cluttered with books and notes, the faint scent of lavender from the diffuser on her bedside table. None of it matched the luxury of Edmund's world, where she had fallen asleep last night. Her head swam as she tried to piece together how she had gotten here.

　　"I was with Edmund… in his room… after…"

　　Angela shook her head, pulling the blanket tighter around herself. Her skin still tingled with the memory of his touch, and the ache in her limbs was a visceral reminder of the night's intensity. Yet now, she was alone.

　　Her heart raced as she pressed her palms against her temples, trying to make sense of it. How did she get here? The question looped in her mind like a broken record.

　　She glanced at her phone on the nightstand and grabbed it, her fingers trembling. The lock screen displayed the time: 7:45 AM. No missed calls. No messages from Edmund. She opened her chat history and scrolled up to the last message from him, a casual text from the day before: Looking forward to tonight.

　　Angela's chest tightened. Could it have been a dream? No. The vividness of his touch, his voice murmuring her name, the intensity of their connection, it couldn't be fabricated by her subconscious.

　　But if it was real, then how had she ended up here?

　　Her phone buzzed, startling her. She grabbed it, hoping for some clarity. A message from Edmund flashed on the screen:

　　"Had to leave early. You needed rest. Trust me, everything will make sense soon."

　　Her fingers trembled as she reread the words. They felt distant, cryptic, and unsettlingly final.

　　"Trust me?" she muttered, her voice laced with doubt. "What does that even mean?"

　　She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, her bare feet touching the cold floor. The memories of the previous night clashed with the stark reality of her present. Why hadn't Edmund stayed? And why had he brought her back here without saying goodbye?

　　Throwing off the blanket, she padded across the room to the bathroom. The sight in the mirror startled her. Her hair was messed up, her lips slightly swollen, a lingering testament to last night's passion. But the faint purple marks on her collarbone, neck, chest and breasts sent a shiver down her spine. It wasn't a dream.

　　Angela traced the marks on her skin as if trying to feel Edmund through them. She felt she could still feel the warmth of his touches on her skin. The night had been a blur of passion and connection, but now it felt like a dream fading under the harsh light of day.

　　After freshening up, Angela poured herself a cup of coffee. She was about to settle down when a knock at the door startled her. She hesitated, her pulse quickening. Who could it be at this hour? She opened the door cautiously. Elena stood there, a small smile tugging at her lips.

　　"Good morning," Elena said, her tone pleasant but laced with something Angela couldn't quite place.

　　"What are you doing here?" Angela asked, her voice sharper than intended.

　　"Rough night?" Elena raised her eyebrows, ignoring her question. Her expression was unreadable, her eyes scanning Angela with unnerving precision.

　　"What are you doing here?" Angela asked, her voice sharper than intended.

　　"To talk," Elena said, closing the door behind her. "You seemed rattled last night."

　　"Not that it's any of your business," Angela crossed her arms, leaning against the desk. "Wait! Did you follow me?"

　　Elena tilted her head, studying her. "I didn't need to. You were already spinning in circles. I'm here because I care, Angela."

　　The words sounded genuine, but Angela knew better than to trust them. She narrowed her eyes. "Care about what? Me? Or whatever story you're chasing?"

　　Elena sighed, her expression softening. "Maybe both. But mostly you."

　　Angela hesitated, her walls faltering slightly. "Then tell me the truth. What do you know about Edmund? About my family?"

　　Elena hesitated for a beat too long. "I think you already know the answer to that."

　　"Stop playing games," Angela snapped. "You drop hints and cryptic warnings, but you never give me anything real."

　　Elena stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Because real life is dangerous, Angela. And if you don't wake up soon, you'll be the one paying the price."

　　Angela's stomach churned. "What does that mean?"

　　"You look unsettled. Did something happen?" Elena ignored her query once again.

　　Angela hesitated, her pulse quickening. She wasn't ready to share what had transpired, not with Elena, whose motives remained murky.

　　"I'm fine," Angela said curtly.

　　"You don't look fine. You look like someone who's starting to see the cracks."

　　Angela's breath caught. "What cracks?"

　　Elena tilted her head, her expression softening slightly. "The cracks in the perfect world you've built around you. The lies, the secrets, they're starting to show, aren't they?"

　　Angela set her mug down with a thud. "You don't know anything about me."

　　Elena shrugged, her tone casual but her words pointed. "Maybe not. But I know enough to see that you're in over your head." She paused, her voice dropping. "Be careful, Angela. The people closest to you aren't always who they seem."

　　Angela's hands clenched into fists. "Why do you care? What's in it for you?"

　　Elena's lips curved into a faint smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Let's just say I've been burned before. I don't want to see the same thing happen to you."

　　Before Angela could respond, Elena set her cup down and walked out, leaving Angela alone with her racing thoughts.

　　By mid-morning, Angela couldn't stand the suffocating silence of the hostel. She grabbed her bag and headed to the one place where she felt she might find some answers, her mother.

　　Julie greeted her in the grand foyer of her art gallery, her expression a mix of surprise and caution.

　　"Angela," Julie said, her voice warm but wary. "I wasn't expecting you."

　　Angela didn't waste time on pleasantries. "We need to talk." She sat down across from her mother, her hands gripping the armrests of her chair. "What aren't you telling me?"

　　Julie's eyes narrowed. "I don't know what you mean."

　　"Yes, you do," Angela snapped. "Last night, you hinted that my father wasn't who you said he was. And then there's Michael, what's his role in all of this? And Edmund…" She broke off, her voice catching. "I feel like I'm drowning in lies, and you're holding the anchor."

　　Julie sighed, her fingers toying with the strand of pearls around her neck. "Angela, you have to understand, everything I've done was to protect you."

　　"Protect me from what?" Angela demanded.

　　Julie hesitated, her gaze flickering to the window. "From the truth. Some truths are too painful, too dangerous to face."

　　Angela leaned forward, her voice trembling. "Tell me. I can handle it."

　　Julie met her eyes, and for a moment, Angela thought she saw a flicker of guilt. But then her mother's expression hardened, the familiar mask sliding back into place.

　　"Not yet," Julie said firmly. "You're not ready."

　　Angela stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. "I'm done waiting for you to decide what I can and can't handle. I'll find the truth myself."

　　Julie's voice softened. "Angela, please…"

　　But Angela was already walking out, her heart pounding as she stepped into the crisp autumn air.

　　By the time Angela returned to the hostel, her mind was a whirlwind of questions and unresolved emotions. As she entered her room, she found Edmund already there. His appearance was disheveled, his usually composed demeanor replaced by an edge of exhaustion.

　　"Angela," he said, standing as she approached.

　　She didn't bother with pleasantries. "What happened last night?"

　　He motioned for her to sit, his expression grim. "You don't remember?"

　　"I remember everything," she said sharply. "But I don't remember how I got back here to my room."

　　Edmund ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly. "It wasn't safe to spend the entire night there. People knew we were around there, so I didn't want to take risks. That's why I got you back here. And I didn't wake you up because you were tired and needed to sleep."

　　Angela's eyes widened. "What do you mean? Safe from what?"

　　He hesitated. "There are things I haven't told you, Angela. Things that would put you in danger if you knew too much."

　　She scoffed, crossing her arms. "Great. More secrets. Just what I need."

　　Edmund reached to hold her. "I know you're angry. And you have every right to be. But everything I've done, everything I'm doing is to protect you."

　　Angela pulled her hand away. "From who? From what?"

　　He leaned in, his voice dropping. "From people who wouldn't think twice about using you to get to me. Or worse."

　　Angela froze, her mind racing. "You mean Michael?"

　　Edmund nodded slowly. "And others."

　　Her pulse quickened. "What do they want?"

　　"You," Edmund said simply. "Because of who you are. Because of who your father was."

　　"Who was my father?" she repeated, her voice trembling.

　　Edmund's expression softened. "There are things you need to know, Angela. But not here. Not now. I promise, I'll tell you everything when the time is right."

　　Angela's fists clenched. "I'm tired of waiting, Edmund. I'm tired of being kept in the dark."

　　"I know," he said softly. "And I swear, I'll make it right. But right now, trust me. Please."

　　Angela stared at him, her heart torn between anger and desperation. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe that, despite everything, he was on her side.

　　But Elena's warning echoed in her mind, "Wake up, Angela. Before it's too late."