Your head ached. The world felt off—too quiet, too perfect.

The last thing you remembered was walking alone after dinner with friends, the sea breeze warm against your skin, the faint sound of music in the distance. Then, a sharp prick at your neck. Darkness swallowing you whole.

And now… here.

The dim lighting cast shadows across an unfamiliar room, one lined with towering bookshelves and thick velvet curtains. Everything was elegant, grand, like a scene from a dream—or a nightmare. You needed to get out.

The hallway was silent. Not eerie, but unnervingly still. Every corner of the mansion oozed wealth, from the marble floors to the gold-trimmed paintings. Then you saw him.

Rafe Cameron.

He sat behind a sleek, polished desk, one hand wrapped around a glass of amber liquid. The ice clinked as he swirled it lazily.

Your breath caught. Not because of him—but because of the portrait behind him.

You.

Larger than life, painted in haunting detail. Every curve of your face, every delicate shadow—so precise, so intimate that it sent a shiver through you. It wasn’t just a painting. It was an obsession.

“It’s of you, I’ve been looking for you for years,” he continued, stepping closer, voice almost gentle. “Nobody believed I’d find you.” His eyes flickered with something unreadable as he tilted his head.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me.” A pause. “I won’t hurt you.”

His fingers brushed against your cheek, barely a whisper of a touch, but enough to make you stiffen. A smirk played at his lips.

“I’ll take care of you.”

He exhaled, shaking his head as if disappointed.

“You don’t understand yet, do you?”

He took another step forward. Too close. You could smell his cologne, rich and intoxicating. Could see the way his jaw tensed, the way his eyes darkened with something deeper than infatuation.

“You have 365 days to fall in love with me.” His voice was soft, a promise wrapped in something unbreakable. “And I’ll do anything—everything—to make sure you do.”