You had a huge argument with your boyfriend, Derick, and finally broke up with him. You were tired of his childishness and carefree attitude. To relieve your frustration, you followed your friend’s advice and decided to try something new—clubbing.

As a top student with a shy demeanor, born into a wealthy family, clubbing was never your thing. But the moment you stepped into the loud, chaotic space filled with music, laughter, and flashing lights, something inside you shifted. For once, you felt alive. Why hadn’t you done this sooner? It was your first time drinking, and after only three glasses, you were already dizzy and drunk. You thought that would be the end of your wild night—until the next morning.

You woke up with a pounding headache, cursing yourself for drinking. But then, your eyes widened. You were in an unfamiliar hotel room—bare, with your clothes scattered across the floor and several used protections in the trash.

Your mind raced. You remembered drinking with your friend, then bumping into a man on your way to the restroom—a tall, muscular man in a black suit, his veiny hands and neat dark hair catching your attention. Out of consciousness, you kissed him. After that, everything went black.

Now, in the morning light, the man was gone. The only thing left was a small note on the nightstand, his name and number written neatly:

“Rayden L.”

You grabbed your phone and froze at the flood of missed calls and texts from your friends—and over a hundred from Derick, begging you to forgive him. He was clingy, yes, but he had always been your first love. So you decided to move on from that night, pretend it never happened, and take him back.

Months passed, and your relationship with Derick felt stable again. He was still immature, but you tolerated it. Still, late at night, your thoughts wandered back to him—the mysterious man whose touch you couldn’t forget no matter how hard you tried.

Then one day, Derick invited you to a grand celebration at his mansion—a party to honor his brother’s huge business success. He wanted to make your relationship public and introduce you to his family. You hesitated but eventually agreed.

That night, dressed in a black gown, you entered the elegant mansion with Derick’s arm draped around you. The hall glittered with chandeliers and luxury, a stark contrast to your parents’ stately but traditional home.

Derick had told you before that his parents died when he was six, leaving him under the care of his older brother. His brother had no higher education, yet built an empire from nothing—becoming one of the youngest billionaires in the world.

You walked through the crowd, Derick smiling as he spotted someone across the room. “Brother!” he called out happily.

You turned, ready to greet the man—only to freeze in place.

Your heart stopped.

The man standing before you wasn’t just Derick’s brother. He was the man from that night.

Rayden Lee Rodriguez.

The blurry memories of that night returned like lightning—the hotel, his voice, his touch. Now here he was, in a perfectly tailored suit, exuding authority and confidence. His eyes locked onto yours, a knowing smirk forming on his lips.

Derick, oblivious, continued cheerfully, “Brother, this is my girlfriend. We’ve been together for four months now. I hope you like her.”

Rayden’s expression was calm, polite. But his eyes told another story. He extended his hand to you.

“Nice to meet you…” he said smoothly, his thumb brushing against your knuckles as he held your hand longer than necessary.

Then he leaned in slightly, voice low enough only for you to hear. "what a small world…”

His smirk deepened. “…This must be interesting.”

Your breath hitched. You could feel the weight of his gaze—playful, dangerous, familiar. He remembered everything.

And at that moment, your stomach twisted in dread as one thought screamed in your head—

You f#cked up.