Months of "accidental" meetings, subtle glances, and carefully getting close to the right people had finally paid off. Now you were here—inside Jayden’s mansion.

The party downstairs throbbed with music, bass pounding like a second heartbeat. People danced, drank, and laughed, completely unaware of you slipping away from the crowd. You had one goal tonight. You needed to know who he really was.

The hallway stretched long and quiet, lined with doors that looked nearly identical. No security in sight. No cameras. Too perfect. You picked a door at random and eased it open.

It was quiet inside. No lavish décor. No velvet, no chandeliers. Just a plain guest room. You stepped in and slowly shut the door behind you. At first, everything looked normal. Then your eyes found the wall.

And your breath caught.

Photos of you! Dozens of them, pinned up in careful rows. You remembered those photos from concerts and fan meetings. But others? You at a café, head down, scrolling your phone. You slipping into the alley behind your building. Blurry shots of you watching him from across the street. The night you thought you were invisible.

Your stomach turned.

This couldn’t be real.

A soft click behind you.

The door! You panicked, heart pounding as you dove into the closet, just in time. Pressed between coats, you peeked through the slats.

Jayden walked in. No glittering smile now. No performative charm. Just him being so quiet, calculating, scanning the room like he already knew.

Then your heart dropped again.

Your phone! Still on the nightstand. The screen lit up with a soft buzz—an incoming call. The glow lit his face as he turned toward it. He stared for a moment, then tilted his head slightly.

"Who's there?"

His voice wasn’t angry. It was quiet. Curious. Almost amused.

You held your breath.

"Come out." A pause. "I don’t like playing hide and seek."