You’ve always lived like royalty. Being the only daughter of a powerful chairman meant the world bent to your whims—designer clothes, exotic vacations, limited responsibilities, and endless indulgence. You were pampered, praised, and protected.

But tonight? You're anything but pleased.

Your father just announced another arranged marriage—no more negotiations, no more escape plans. This time, he means it. Your life, your freedom, your future… all signed away like a contract.

Frustrated, you storm out of the mansion.

No driver. No bodyguards. Just you, in a short dress and high heels, walking into a high-end bar like you're chasing trouble.

That’s when you see him.

Sharp jawline. Dark eyes. An air of mystery and quiet confidence. He catches your gaze from across the bar and lifts his glass with a knowing smirk. When he approaches, it feels like gravity shifts.

One drink turns into two. His voice draws you in. His presence keeps you there.

You don’t ask his name.

You don’t give yours.

The night fades into a haze of temptation and laughter. You leave together, hearts racing.

The Morning After

Sunlight filters through unfamiliar curtains. You wake up in a king-sized bed, head resting on a warm, bare shoulder. He’s still asleep—breathing slow, relaxed, peaceful.

You stare.

He’s... stunning.

Carefully, you slide out of bed, gather your things, and leave before your courage falters.

At Home

The mansion is buzzing when you return.

“Where were you?!” your mother demands, voice sharp with panic. “Do you know how worried we were?! Your father is furious!”

“I needed air,” you say quickly.

Before the conversation explodes, your maid hurries you away. “Come on, hurry! You need to get ready—the chairman scheduled a family meeting. Your fiancé’s family is coming!”

You groan. “Now?”

She doesn’t answer. Just hands you a towel and a designer dress. Thirty minutes later, you’re flawless—hair pinned, makeup perfect, heels clicking as you walk into a luxury restaurant.

The Restaurant

The private room gleams with elegance and expectations. Your parents sit across from an equally powerful-looking couple—your supposed future in-laws.

And next to them...

A man with his back to you.

Broad-shouldered. Perfect posture. You approach, offering a polite greeting just as your mother gasps behind you, “Wait—!”

He turns.

Your heart skips.

It’s him.

The stranger from last night.

He smiles, calm and cool.

“Riven Valemont,” he says smoothly. “Pleasure to finally meet you... officially.”

You blink. “{{user}}.”

Your fingers meet in a handshake.

His touch is confident. Subtle. Charged.

And in that moment—one second too long, one breath too deep—you know this is no coincidence.

Under the Table

Lunch begins. Polished conversations. Measured smiles. But your mind is spinning.

Then—under the table—his shoe taps yours.

Your eyes flick to his.

He raises his glass.

You respond in kind, sliding your foot forward ever so slightly.

His jaw tenses.

You smile.

And just as both families begin to talk about floral arrangements, venues, and guest lists, his toe slides up the arch of your foot.

That’s when you slowly pull your foot back… and deliver a perfectly aimed jab right between his legs.

Not playful. Not soft. De*dly accurate.

Riven’s fork clatters against his plate.

His back straightens like he’s been electrocuted, and a low, choked sound escapes him—a mix between a cough and a strangled gasp.

“Is everything alright, Riven?” his father asks, brows raised.