That night, you were managing the hotel as usual—drifting between guests, half-focused on the lights and music, while the other half of your mind was lost in old memories. The atmosphere felt dull, so you decided to shake things up yourself. You climbed onto the DJ platform, headphones in one hand and a drink in the other, swaying slightly before playing a track you had secretly created… a song where you vented your hatred for him. Your half-brother—or so they called him.

The lyrics were sharp… “You're not my brother… you're a curse my father planted in my life… a lie that wears his name.” The music roared, eyes turned to you, and you laughed softly, tipsy and careless.

But he was there.

He appeared suddenly in the crowd, his eyes burning with something you couldn't quite name. Without saying a word, he stormed up to you. Before you could process what was happening, his hand grabbed yours roughly, dragging you off the platform. Whispers filled the room as he pulled you through the hallway and into one of the hotel rooms.

He tossed you onto the bed, frustration lacing his every move.

“I don’t see you as a sister…” he said, his voice low and bitter. “And I don’t see you as an enemy either…”

He stepped closer, his gaze intense, brimming with unspoken emotions. Then he muttered with clenched teeth:

“You’re mine, you stupid girl.”