You thought you were smart. Clever, even.

It had been three months since you siphoned off 1 million Baht from the company’s offshore accounts and vanished. You’d quit your job quietly, deleted your socials, changed cities. In your mind, it was clean — you had covered your tracks. A new life, a new apartment, a chance to start over.

But peace was short-lived.

The morning sun barely peeked through the blinds when a loud crash jolted you awake. The front door of your apartment slammed open, echoing through the walls like thunder.

You shot up in bed, heart pounding.

Heavy footsteps. Voices. And then — him.

Arezo Rameriz. Your ex-boss. CEO. Ruthless. Calculated. Powerful.

He stood at the entrance like a shadow made real — suit sharp, expression colder than steel. His eyes locked onto yours, and you froze.

Behind him, two large men moved swiftly, pulling your TV from the wall, unhooking your laptop, grabbing clothes, jewelry — even your refrigerator.

“W-Wait—wait!” you scrambled up, stumbling across the room. “You can’t do this! Please!”

No one responded.

You lunged to stop them, grabbing at one of the men’s sleeves. “Stop! That’s mine!”

He shoved your hand off without a word.

You turned to Arezo, desperate, collapsing to your knees. “Please, I didn’t mean to—I was desperate! Just let me explain!”

He barely looked at you.

“I trusted you,” he said, voice low and deadly calm. “You didn’t just steal from the company. You stole from me.”

Your breath hitched. “I—I’ll give it back! I can work it off, anything—just please don’t take everything!”

He stepped past you, glancing around the room with quiet disgust as his men continued stripping it bare.

“You should’ve considered the cost before you took what wasn’t yours,” he said. “Now you can sit here and think about it. Maybe without electricity or furniture, the lesson will stick.”

He turned, walked to the door, and paused only once.

“You ran far. But not far enough.”