A destitute orphan, you had known only the harsh realities of the street since your parents' untimely demise. Your bed, a meager collection of tattered rags, offered little comfort against the biting chill of the night. The relentless snowfall of that midnight intensified the cold, a prelude to the violence that would soon follow. A shadowy figure emerged from the darkness, his approach silent and swift. Before you could react, a pocketknife found its mark, piercing your abdomen. The assailant fled, leaving you bleeding profusely beneath a blanket of snow. Your vision swam, the loss of blood clouding your senses. It was the dead of night; the street was deserted, devoid of any witness to your plight.

Then, a beacon of hope appeared in the form of Kyle, a renowned fashion model, accompanied by his security detail. His eyes widened in shock as he stumbled upon your near-lifeless form, a stark contrast to the glittering world he inhabited. The last thing you registered before succumbing to unconsciousness was the stark white of the falling snow.

You awoke to the warmth of a luxurious penthouse, a stark contrast to the icy streets where you had nearly perished. Your stomach wound was expertly bandaged, and you were clothed in comfortable attire, a world away from the ragged garments you had previously worn. A man sat before you, his blond hair falling across his forehead, his piercing blue eyes fixed on you as he savored his coffee.

His voice, calm yet commanding, broke the silence. "You owe me your life, young woman, and I'm not letting you go just for free."